The celebrations had barely begun to die down before another sound took over.

Despite the equaliser, the DW wanted one more and wasn’t quiet about it.

The Wigan players had not even reached the halfway line, and they heard it.

Up in the gantry, the commentator couldn’t help but smile as the chant rolled around the stadium.

"Listen to this place," he said over the broadcast.

"A few minutes ago they were staring at defeat. Now they’re urging this team forward. They don’t want the draw. They want the winner."

Across the technical area, Ange Postecoglou stood with his hands resting on his hips, his eyes fixed on the pitch.

He watched Wigan’s players jog back into position before briefly looking toward the giant screen, where the replay of Leo’s strike was being shown once again.

For a moment, he shook his head.

Just moments earlier, Tottenham had looked in complete control.

Now the match had slipped back into the balance, though one could argue that the home side had an advantage with the momentum.

Romero had tried to stop Leo from scoring and had gotten a red card in the process, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered as the ball had still ended up in the back of the net.

Near the centre circle, Son called his teammates together.

He clapped his hands twice, making sure everyone was listening.

"Forget it," he said firmly. "We’re still in this. Keep playing."

The Spurs captain broke the huddle with a nod, and his teammates quickly took up their positions.

The referee glanced at both assistant referees before blowing his whistle.

Play resumed.

Tottenham tried to slow things down immediately after the restart.

At this point, they could only play it safe and hope that an option opened up, else they were leaving with only a single point.

Postecoglu’s men moved the ball across their back line and into midfield, looking to take the sting out of the game after Wigan’s surge.

But Wigan refused to let them settle.

The blue shirts responded together, pressing like a horde of zombies and with it, the space disappeared.

Eventually, Vicario looked up and realised there was nowhere left to play when he got the ball and with that, he drove the ball long.

It sailed over the halfway line, trying to find Richarlison, but Joe Bennett pressured him, causing the Spurs player’s head to drop kindly for Leo.

And just like that, Wigan were attacking again.

"Two minutes of normal time remaining," the commentator said. "And Wigan have everything."

Back on the pitch, Bennett called for the ball with an outstretched arm.

"Here!"

At that, he received it cleanly near the touchline and immediately found Leo.

Leo’s first touch was the simplest one he could have played, sending it back to Bennett.

But he didn’t stay there.

He drifted inside, pulling away from his marker and opening a new passing lane.

Bennett spotted it straight away and returned the ball into his path in the middle.

With the Spurs players looking to take the ball off him, Leo didn’t take another touch.

With one sweep of his left foot, he sent a diagonal pass arcing across the pitch.

The switch cleared Tottenham’s midfield completely before dropping toward Ezra on the right flank, where Udogie spun and sprinted back, but he was already chasing the play.

Ezra brought the ball under control with his first touch, glancing into the box in the process, and he immediately had his route.

Jake had already begun his run between Van de Ven and Højbjerg, who had dropped into the back line following Romero’s dismissal.

Ezra, a second later, slid a perfectly weighted pass through the narrow gap and the stadium couldn’t help but rise to its feet.

"JAKE’S IN BEHIND!" the commentator roared as Jake reached the ball just inside the area.

Højbjerg was right on his shoulder, leaning into him with everything he had, but Jake didn’t let up.

The two battled stride for stride as Jake planted himself, held the Dane off for one more step, then stretched every inch of his body to poke the ball across the face of goal.

It skipped beyond Vicario’s reach and for a moment, the goalkeeper could only watch.

The ball rolled invitingly through the six-yard box.

Across the goalmouth.

Past one white shirt, and then another as the entire stadium seemed to lean forward.

"SOMEONE’S GOT TO BE THERE!" the commentator cried, almost pleadingly, but nobody was.

The ball continued untouched before drifting out toward the far side of the area.

A wave of groans swept around the DW Stadium as hands found heads.

Jake dropped to one knee, frustrated that all his work had come to nothing.

But the attack wasn’t over.

Carlo ran into the ball from deep.

He gathered it near the left edge of the box before calmly pulling it under his foot instead of forcing another cross into a crowded area.

He looked up, and all around, Wigan’s shape was already recovering around him.

"Keep it alive!" someone shouted from the stands.

Carlo recycled possession, rolling the ball back toward midfield as blue shirts pushed higher up the pitch again.

"So we will be having 6 minutes of added time," the commentary noted as the fourth official returned his board.

"Six more minutes. And if the last twenty have taught us anything, it’s that this match still might have another twist in it."

Down the pitch, the ball moved through the midfield and found Reyes, who found Leo arriving on his shoulder.

Without slowing, the latter Leo skipped past Bryan Gil’s challenge with a step that went right while Gil went left.

"CALDERON FORWARD. WITH PACE," the commentary called as Leo pushed forward.

Leo carried the ball toward the edge of the penalty area, slowing just enough to force Tottenham’s defence to hesitate.

Ben Davies stepped out to meet him, lowering his centre of gravity and trying to close the shooting lane, but Leo was already on that.

Without preparation, his form coiled as he swung his right leg back.

Davies reacted instantly, pushing forward and throwing himself into the line of shot, committing everything to the block, but the strike never came.

At the last possible moment, Leo rolled the ball back with the sole of his boot and Davies could only slide past harmlessly, his momentum carrying him across the turf.

The opening was there, and Leo took it.

He nudged the ball out from under his feet, opened his body, and this time, it looked even more convincing.

Everything pointed toward a curling effort aimed for the far corner, and the Tottenham back line reacted together.

Van de Ven took half a step toward the expected shot while Højbjerg shifted across to close the space, and it was exactly what Leo wanted.

Instead of shooting, he stabbed a firm pass along the ground.

It threaded cleanly through the moving line of white shirts, slipping between legs before emerging on the other side where Ezra was waiting.

"WIGAN ARE IN HERE!"

Udogie was on him immediately, flying across to close him down, and Ezra knew he had no time.

With his first touch, he steadied himself, and with his following, he whipped a low ball across the face of goal.

It flashed through the six-yard box where Jake lunged toward it, but Van de Ven stayed tight to him, an arm wrapped across the striker’s body as they battled for position.

Jake strained to break free, but he couldn’t.

He tried calling out to the official, but before he could, another blue shirt arrived.

Carlo had burst in from the far side of the box, throwing himself into a full-stretch slide.

His outstretched boot met the ball just before it could escape beyond the back post.

There was the faintest touch, but it was just enough.

The ball skipped past Vicario.

Then nestled inside the side netting.

"OOOOHHH!"

The commentator’s voice cracked under the weight of the moment.

"HE’S DONE IT! CARLO REGUTTI HAS TURNED IT AROUND! AND WIGAN ATHLETIC LEAD! FROM TWO GOALS DOWN... IT’S THREE-TWO!"

Carlo slid another few yards before scrambling back onto his feet.

His eyes were wide, and he almost looked surprised himself.

He let out a roar and sprinted toward the corner flag where Ezra was already racing to meet him.

The two collided in an embrace before the rest of the Wigan players came flooding in from every direction.

Ben Amos was charging the length of his penalty area, fists pumping as the substitutes emptied from the bench.

There was no shape to the celebration anymore, just pure joy spilling across the corner of the pitch.

"TIME AND TIME AGAIN, THESE BOYS.....THESE MEN HAVE PULLED OUT WITH ANOTHER HAMMER TO THE HEADS OF THESE TOTTENHAM FANS.

THEY ARE NOT TO BE SCRATCHED OFF. WIGAN ARE HERE, AND THEY ARE COMING FOR A LOT MORE THAN WELL WISHES!"