Chapter 671: Song of The Night!

Instead of finding the bottom corner, it drifted just beyond the outside of the right post.

Ortega threw himself across the goalmouth, landing sprawled on the turf.

He remained there for a second, looking towards the ball as it rolled out for a goal kick.

He was clearly relieved.

It had been close enough to make the goalkeeper think about a third goal, and City could hardly afford another.

"Just wide!" the main commentator exclaimed. "Carlo Regutti almost puts the finishing touch on a wonderful counterattack. Ortega was beaten if that had been a little more accurate."

His partner laughed.

"I think Ortega will be thanking the post for that one. City have thrown bodies forward, and they’ve nearly been punished again."

Following that, the minutes began to crawl.

Every stoppage seemed to last longer than it should.

Every time the ball went out, the City supporters looked towards the officials, searching for some indication of how much time remained.

On the pitch, Wigan continued to work.

Their defenders held their positions, Henderson and Reyes chased down loose balls, and Leo kept moving between the spaces where City wanted to build.

There were no unnecessary risks now.

When a pass wasn’t available, Wigan cleared their lines.

When City tried to accelerate, someone was there to slow them down.

Then Foden received the ball in the centre of midfield.

He turned, looking to carry it forward.

One Wigan player was approaching from his left, while another held the space ahead of him.

He had barely taken his first touch when the referee’s whistle cut through the stadium, and for a second, the players seemed unsure.

Then the sound of another whistle followed.

It was over.

A tremendous roar swept across the DW Stadium, leaving the foundations trembling slightly.

Supporters leapt to their feet, arms raised, scarves waving above their heads.

Some embraced the people beside them, while others simply stood and shouted towards the pitch.

The noise was so loud that the players could barely hear one another.

Wigan Athletic had beaten Manchester City.

On the broadcast, the main commentator raised his voice above the celebrations.

"It’s finished! Wigan Athletic have done it! They’ve beaten Manchester City and booked their place in the FA Cup quarter-finals!"

His partner came in almost immediately.

"And what a way to do it! Two goals, a clean sheet, and a performance that has taken them through for the second season running. Wigan are officially in the quarter-finals!"

"Remember, this is a side that had lost both of their previous meetings with Manchester City. They’ve waited for another opportunity, and tonight, they’ve taken it."

As they spoke, the camera found Leo.

He raised both hands above his head, looking towards the stands.

Then, with the noise still pouring down from the supporters, he let himself fall backwards onto the grass.

He landed on his backside, legs stretched out in front of him.

For a few seconds, he did nothing as his chest rose and fell heavily.

Sweat covered his face, catching the stadium lights whenever he turned his head.

His shirt was still loose, clinging awkwardly to his body, but he couldn’t have cared less.

He looked across the pitch.

The Manchester City players were still there. Some stood with their hands on their hips, while others exchanged brief words.

Pep, however, was nowhere to be seen.

There was no sign of him on the touchline, indicating that he had already made his way down the tunnel.

Eventually, Leo turned his attention towards the player standing closest to him.

Kevin De Bruyne had remained on the pitch, his hands resting on his hips.

He looked towards the Wigan celebrations before glancing down at Leo.

"We’re going to hear the end of this," he said as Leo looked up at him.

Leo gave a tired laugh.

"Neither would we have if we had lost. I think the two have that in common."

De Bruyne smiled faintly.

"Yeah. I can imagine."

He looked around the stadium again, where the Wigan supporters were still singing, and several players had gathered near the corner to acknowledge them.

De Bruyne watched for a moment before his expression changed.

"I’m tired," he said.

Leo looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah. Me too."

De Bruyne shook his head, looking down at him.

"No, you’re okay."

He turned his eyes back towards the pitch.

"I am tired. Tired."

The distinction took Leo a moment to understand.

He studied the Belgian’s face, then looked towards the City players still scattered across the grass.

De Bruyne had played through countless seasons at the highest level.

There had been trophies, title races, European nights and more matches than Leo could begin to imagine.

But there was something different about hearing him say it himself.

Leo rested his hands behind him.

"I think you’ve got one more good Premier League season in you."

De Bruyne chuckled and then nodded.

"Well, we’ll see after the Euros."

Leo listened and then nodded.

"Yeah. We’ll see."

The Euros.

The words lingered in his thoughts longer than he expected.

He glanced towards the tunnel, then shook the thought away before it could develop.

There were more immediate things to consider.

The league was still hanging in the balance.

Wigan had built a significant lead, but Liverpool’s victory over them had shown how quickly that advantage could shrink.

The established clubs had the resources and experience to keep applying pressure, and nobody at Wigan could afford to believe the job was finished.

Now, though, there was another competition to think about.

The FA Cup.

They were into the quarter-finals for the second consecutive season.

And after tonight, there was no reason to believe they couldn’t go further.

Leo placed his hands on the grass and pushed himself upright.

His legs felt heavy as he got to his feet.

He looked down, loosened the laces of his boots, and slipped them off one after the other.

Carrying them in his hands, he began walking towards the tunnel in his socks and behind him, the DW kept on singing!