The roar came down from the stands like a wave breaking over the pitch.
Not a neat chant, but a roar kind of chant coming from fans that had completely lost themselves in the chaos and excitement.
A long, rollingahhhhhhhhmixed with scattered shouts and a few high-pitched "whoooooops!" prevailed from the crowd below as they clung to Leo for that extra second before finally letting him go.
He stumbled back onto the patch of grass near the corner flag, breath still lodged in his throat, when the announcer's voice cracked through the speakers.
"Goal for Wigan. Number twenty-two, LEEEOOOOOO—"
The rest never came from him as the crowd took it, swallowed it, and hurled it back.
"CAAALDEERROOON!"
Leo turned, chest rising, adrenaline buzzing under his skin.
He raised a fist to them, thanking them in the only way his body remembered how, while Mclean, following behind, ruffled his hair, laughing under his breath before patting him on the back and heading off toward his position.
