Three days was and still is a long time in football.
It was long enough for a dressing room to either find itself or lose itself entirely, long enough for a manager to run out of ways to rearrange the same thirteen names on a whiteboard, and long enough for matchday to arrive.
Even if misfortune had befallen them, the world wasn't going to wait for them to finish grieving.
Despite the growing consensus that Wigan might not even be able to win a game in the upcoming weeks, not to mention them keeping their 6th spot, the DW was still as lively as ever without a hint of change in the atmosphere as compared to previous ones.
The people making their way toward it that evening came in the usual clusters, their scarves up against the cold, hands dug into their jacket pockets, and conversations already halfway through themselves by the time the turnstiles came into view.
