Chapter 632: The Record Champions!

By the time they settled down to eat, Leo had retrieved his bag and carried it into the bedroom.

When he returned, Vittoria was already arranging the food on the table.

He looked around the apartment.

"Where’s your luggage? I didn’t see it in the bedroom."

"It’s in the other room. I didn’t bring much."

Leo stared at her and then snorted.

"Sure."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I believe you completely."

She gave him a look over her shoulder and then leaned closer.

"Leo."

"What? I said I believed you."

"Doesn’t sound like it."

He grinned and sat down, apparently content to leave the matter there.

He knew Vittoria well enough to understand that not much could mean anything from a small overnight bag to several carefully packed cases.

He would find out eventually.

For now, he was more interested in having her there.

They ate together, trading stories about the weeks they had spent apart.

Vittoria told him about the things she had been doing, and Leo filled her in on the latest happenings at the club.

The conversation moved easily between serious matters and trivial complaints, with neither of them needing to work particularly hard to keep it going.

It was only after they had finished that Vittoria brought the conversation around to the reason she knew he would be leaving the following morning again.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

Leo leaned back in his chair.

"It’s just United."

Vittoria raised an eyebrow.

"Getting cocky, aren’t we?"

That earned a laugh from him.

"I’m serious. They’re sixth, but their position makes them look better than they’ve been.

They’ve had a decent run of fixtures, and they’ve picked up points against teams like Burnley, Palace and West Ham, no shade towards those teams though.

They’ve done what they needed to do, but they haven’t exactly been tested against the best opposition."

"And now they get you."

"Now they get us," he corrected.

She gave him a small nod, accepting the distinction.

Wigan had beaten United 5–2 at Old Trafford earlier in the season, with Leo scoring his first senior hat-trick.

That result had only added to the history between the clubs, particularly given the circumstances surrounding his departure from Manchester United’s academy.

Tomorrow would be another meeting between the two sides, and neither the players nor the supporters would be short of reasons to take it seriously.

Vittoria studied him for a moment and then took a piece of the cake into her mouth.

"So, will you score?"

Leo looked at her as she ate, and she continued before he could answer.

"If you do, you should make a V sign for me."

He laughed.

"A V sign?"

"Yes."

"What do you think scoring is? Do you think I can just decide to do it?"

"I think you can try."

"That’s not how football works, Ma’am."

"Then work harder."

He shook his head, smiling.

"You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who doesn’t play."

"I don’t need to play to know you should score."

"Right. I’ll let Dawson know to tweak his tactics because my girlfriend wants a dedicated celebration."

"You should. It might improve the team."

"I’m sure it would."

She gave him a satisfied nod, and that was how the rest of the evening went.

Whenever Leo thought the conversation had moved on, Vittoria found another way to bring it back to his goal, his celebration or the possibility of him making that promised V sign.

He tried to defend himself, but she was persistent enough to make the argument increasingly pointless.

Even after they had gone to bed, she was not finished.

"I’m just saying, it would be nice."

Leo stared at the ceiling.

"Vittoria."

"What?"

"Go to sleep."

She laughed against his shoulder before muttering, "I slept on the plane."

He waited a moment before turning onto his side and drawing her into his arms.

"That won’t be enough."

She settled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.

From there, she kept poking him out of sleep whenever it seemed he would sleep, before Leo finally sighed.

"Okay, then," he murmured.

"Okay, what?"

"If I score."

She lifted her head just enough to look at him.

"Promise?"

Leo smiled and pulled her closer.

"Goodnight, Vittoria."

She laughed again, but this time she let him have the last word.

The following afternoon, the noise around DW carried through the stadium’s corridors and into the small media booth high in the stands.

The room was insulated against most of the sound, though the roar outside still seeped through the walls whenever the crowd rose.

Monitors lined the desk, displaying the pitch from several angles as the production crew made their final checks.

"Five-second delay before we go live," a voice called.

The technicians made their last adjustments right as one of the cameras settled on the tunnel, while another held a wide shot of the pitch.

A few seconds passed before the voice came through again.

"We’re on."

And when it spoke. the broadcast began.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to DW Stadium here in Wigan," Steve Bower announced, his voice carrying clearly over the stadium noise.

"I’m Steve Bower, alongside Darren Fletcher, and we have a fascinating game ahead of us."

"Certainly do," Fletcher replied.

"It’s Manchester United against Wigan Athletic, with the league leaders arriving here in remarkable form.

There’s plenty of history between these two clubs, and the last time they met, Wigan left Manchester with a result that nobody around this stadium will have forgotten."

As they went on with the broadcast, the players began emerging from the tunnel with the cameras following behind them onto the pitch.

Wigan filed out in their home kit, while United walked alongside them in their away colours.

The crowd greeted the teams with a mixture of cheers and whistles, the noise growing as the players spread out for the pre-game pleasantries while Bower returned to the earlier meeting.

"Wigan won that game 5–2 at Old Trafford, and it was a particularly memorable afternoon for one young man in their side."

Fletcher needed no prompting.

"Leo Calderon. He scored his first senior hat-trick that day, and what a place to do it. Three goals against Manchester United, back at Old Trafford, in a match that already had plenty of emotion surrounding it."

At the mention of his name, the broadcast cut to Leo as he jogged across the grass, exchanging a few words with Carlo before turning his attention to the pitch.

He looked relaxed, but his focus was already on the work ahead.

"There’s been a great deal of discussion about his development this season," Bower continued.

"He’s been scoring at an extraordinary rate, and Dawson has shown that he’s willing to use him in different roles. We’ll see where he starts today, but United will certainly be aware of the threat he poses."

"They’ll have to be," Fletcher replied.

"He’s not the only player who’s been performing well for Wigan, but he was the difference in that last meeting. United will want a much better showing this time."

The cameras moved across the pitch, picking out the captains and the players completing their final warm-up drills.

The pre-match pleasantries followed, with the two sides exchanging greetings before returning to their positions.

Bower turned the conversation towards the table.

"Of course, the wider picture is just as important. Wigan come into this match at the top of the Premier League with 63 points, eight clear of Manchester City and nine ahead of Liverpool.

They’ve won their last three league games without conceding a goal, and they’ll be looking to maintain that advantage with Liverpool waiting in their next fixture, especially when they are going to Anfield for that."

"It’s a huge opportunity for them," Fletcher agreed.

"Win here, and they’ll put more pressure on the sides chasing them. But winning against the record Premier League champions, regardless of where United sit in the table, is always a task. The away side have plenty to play for themselves."

The referee brought the players together for the final instructions before checking his watch.

Both teams moved into position, and the noise around Old Trafford rose as the last few spectators settled into their seats.

The officials were ready, the players were ready too, and when the whistle was ready, the referee blew it.