Chapter 673: Fatigue! [1]

Dawson could manage the workload, adjust the sessions and give his players whatever rest he could.

But he couldn’t manufacture another five days.

By the time the players left the training ground, the manager had already begun thinking about his starting eleven.

He would need fresh legs.

He would need discipline.

And, above all, he needed his team to find a way to compete with a side that would arrive at the DW considerably better rested.

...

Just like that, the first Saturday of March arrived with a different atmosphere around the stadium.

There was still plenty of excitement and belief following the City victory, but the supporters knew what was at stake.

The league was the priority now, and Aston Villa were not the sort of opponent Wigan could afford to underestimate.

The visitors arrived with a clear purpose and from the opening minutes, the difference in preparation was apparent.

Dawson had taken certain liberties with his lineup, but that meant that he would start with a relatively weaker but less tired squad.

Still, it did little to impede how Villa moved the ball quickly, pressed aggressively and rarely allowed Wigan to settle into their usual rhythm.

Their midfielders were constantly adjusting their positions, creating passing options before the Wigan players could close them down.

Whenever possession changed hands, Villa reacted immediately, and Wigan struggled to match the intensity.

Their players were not short of quality.

There were moments when Carlo found space on the left, or Reyes managed to turn away from pressure and carry the ball forward.

But those moments were isolated.

Too often, the next pass arrived under pressure, forcing Wigan to retreat or surrender possession.

Villa, by contrast, looked comfortable.

They knew when to accelerate and when to hold the ball.

Their movement pulled Wigan’s midfield out of position, while their forwards kept the defensive line occupied.

And Dawson stood near the touchline watching it all unfold with a serious expression.

He had expected Villa to start quickly.

He had also expected his side to struggle with the difference in freshness, but seeing it unfold was another matter.

"Stay together!" he called. "Don’t follow them everywhere. Hold your positions!"

He said that, but Villa were already making the pitch feel smaller.

The pressure eventually told around the twentieth minute.

Tielemans received possession in the middle of the pitch and turned away from the first challenge.

He slipped the ball into the path of a teammate, who carried it towards the edge of the penalty area before releasing Watkins.

The striker attempted to move across the defender in front of him, but there was contact as he tried to force his way into the box.

And from that contact, he went down.

After he went down, the referee pointed straight to the spot, and the Wigan players immediately surrounded him.

"What? Where’s the foul?" one of them protested.

Another raised both hands, insisting that Watkins had gone down too easily.

But the referee was unmoved because at this point it was formality.

Even if it was clearly a penalty, one that most eyes saw, the players would find a way to discredit it.

He pointed towards the penalty spot again before motioning for the players to get away.

There was little doubt about who would take it as Ollie Watkins collected the ball and placed it on the spot.

He took a few steps backwards, glanced towards Amos and waited for the whistle.

The goalkeeper moved along his line, trying to make himself as large as possible, but Watkins barely changed his expression.

The whistle sounded, and when it did, Watkins approached the ball and struck it firmly, sending it beyond Amos.

The net behind snapped back, changing the scoreboard in the process.

Their supporters celebrated in the away section, while Watkins turned towards his teammates with a brief smile.

He was quickly surrounded, but the celebrations were measured.

Villa had expected to score, and they had no intention of treating the goal as anything more than the first step.

Wigan returned to the centre circle.

Henderson collected the ball and placed it down for the restart.

He looked towards his teammates, exchanging a few words with Reyes before taking his position.

They needed to be careful now.

As the match went on, Villa’s energy was making it difficult to sustain long periods of pressure.

Wigan could not afford to chase every ball or commit too many players forward.

They would have to choose their moments, keep their shape and make the most of whatever openings came their way.

The approach was sensible.

The execution, however, left something to be desired.

Wigan gradually found a little more possession, with Henderson helping them move the ball through midfield.

Max Power, having replaced Leo in the lineup, had more energy to run and did, also offering an outlet whenever Villa’s press threatened to close the passing lanes.

Carlo began finding more room on the left, and one of his forward passes nearly opened the game up.

It came shortly before half-time when Carlo received the ball near the touchline and carried it forward, drawing the attention of the Villa fullback.

Rather than forcing a cross, he waited for Jake to make his run across the defensive line.

The striker started between the centre-backs, and when Carlo saw it, he played the pass.

It was perfectly weighted, slipping through the gap and leaving Jake with only the goalkeeper to beat.

For a moment, the stadium seemed to hold its breath as Jake took the ball into the penalty area.

Emi Martinez came off his line, narrowing the angle, but the striker had enough room to finish.

He struck the ball, and somehow, it went wide.

A collective gasp swept through the DW as Jake slowed, staring towards the goal as the ball rolled beyond the post.

He stood there for a second, seemingly unable to believe what he had done.

Carlo looked towards him with both hands resting on his hips.

"Jake!"

The striker turned.

"You’ve got to hit the target there!"

Jake nodded, his expression tightening as he turned to look back at the ball, which was being gathered by Martinez.

"I know."

There was no argument to make.

He knew how good the opportunity had been, and he knew how rarely he missed those chances.

But he had done just that, and in a situation where Wigan needed to make use of every chance they had.

After that, the referee soon brought the first half to an end.