The Wigan players walked back into the dressing room without the usual noise that followed them after the first half.

Usually, even after difficult moments, there was something to talk about.

A complaint about a missed chance.

A joke to break the tension or someone shouting about a referee decision, but that wasn’t it this time.

The door closed behind them, and when it did, the room settled into a silence that felt heavier than the scoreline itself.

Two goals down and at home too.

Against a Tottenham side that looked every bit like the team everyone expected them to be.

With sighs, boots hit the floor as some sought out their seats.

Some players dropped into their places immediately, staring ahead without really seeing anything.

Others removed their boots slowly, almost mechanically, before pushing them away as if they had no interest in looking at them again or playing again, for that matter.

Jake sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed downward.

The striker who usually found something to say, even when things went wrong, had nothing this time.

Across from him, Carlo sat quietly while one of the analysts replayed the first half on the large screen mounted at the front of the room.

Nobody had asked for it, but nobody looked away either.

The broadcast footage continued as the players watched on.

They had come into this game believing they belonged here, and even if they didn’t, they could surmount any obstacle with their belief and undying attitude that had sent them to the top of the league and had given them seven wins from seven.

But forty-five minutes had reminded them that the Premier League did not care about stories.

It only cared about what happened on the pitch.

As the players sat in their thoughts, the door opened, revealing the form of their manager as Dawson stepped inside and stood there watching the slumped forms of his players.

.

He looked at every face in the room, and for a manager who usually had an answer ready, the silence lasted unusually long.

He shook his head after a while, and then he turned slightly, but then the door opened again.

Nolan stepped inside fully, and Dawson looked at him.

For a moment, the two coaches simply exchanged a glance, and they both knew that this wasn’t about tactics yet.

It was about the state of the players because even if they could change something or wanted to change something, it could only go so far if the players couldn’t implement it.

Dawson exhaled quietly once more and shook his head at Nolan.

"They need a minute," he said, to which Nolan nodded.

Dawson looked back toward the room one final time.

"We’ll deal with the football after."

He stepped back into the corridor, but Nolan remained as the door closed behind Dawson.

Outside, the tunnel felt colder than it had before.

The noise from inside the stadium still travelled through the walls.

The chants, the whistles and the occasional roar from the Tottenham supporters.

Dawson walked out without a clear destination.

He passed the technical area, passed the benches and then eventually, he stepped outside toward the pitchside area where the substitutes had begun moving around.

Leo was there, still wearing his jacket while looking ahead where the bunch of substitute players were passing the ball between them, keeping loose while waiting for the rest of the game to begin.

Leo stood still, controlled one pass before returning it, but then it kept coming despite him not being in suitable gear.

Dawson, for a moment, simply watched.

The game had changed the moment Leo wasn’t on the pitch, but he himself truly doubted that much would change even with Leo on the pitch.

They had even trained without him most of the time ahead of the game in hopes of offsetting their dependence on him, but maybe....

Maybe this was the moment they needed.

A very strong impression of loss on his players so they could also think to step up in a moment that needed them over the course of the remaining season.

Dawson let out a quiet breath.

"Maybe this is necessary," he said to himself.

Because sometimes teams only discovered new answers when their easiest one was taken away.

Back inside the stands, the mood was completely different from anything Wigan supporters had experienced all season.

As a previously struggling side that had even been relegated to the third tier of English football recently, the DW had seen difficult moments, but this felt different.

Because for the first time this season, they looked unsure.

The confidence that had followed every home game had disappeared.

Supporters sat with their arms folded, watching the players return toward the pitch.

"It’s worse than Wolves," one fan muttered as the man beside him looked over.

"Wolves was different because we thought we could still change it."

He looked toward the pitch.

"Right now, Tottenham look like they’ve got an answer for everything."

A younger supporter sitting nearby overheard.

"Just bring Leo on."

The older fan beside him sighed.

"No, but seriously. He changes things," the younger lad added, looking a bit frustrated!

The older man nodded slowly.

"He does change things, but he’s one player. There’s only so much he can do, and at the moment, he isn’t even at his best with that head injury."

At that, the younger fan went quiet.

Around them, similar conversations were happening as the first real doubt of the season unfolded.

Was this as far as they went before the crumbling came?

...

Back on the broadcast, the cameras followed the players returning for the second half.

"Well, the teams are back out," the commentator said.

"But the home side isn’t looking like themselves. The first half has taken the energy out of the building," the co-commentator replied.

"Which is understandable. Wigan have been excellent this season, but Tottenham have shown today exactly why they are considered one of the strongest sides in the division despite recent shortcomings."

Down the pitch, the players quickly settled into their respective positions, eager to get the match over with.

The referee checked his watch as Jake stood over the ball.

Then, without warning, the referee’s whistle sounded.