Chapter 594: New Year’s Wringer!

The players, almost begrudgingly, moved because positional drills were never fun, and they were right.

It was immediately obvious Dawson hadn’t been exaggerating the moment the session began.

The tempo was high from the first exercise, with the coaching staff demanding quicker decisions, sharper pressing and better movement off the ball.

Every time a player switched off, someone was shouting, or someone was being hooked.

Even Leo barely had time to settle with the previous drill before the next one started.

By the end, the players were scattered across the grass, hands on knees and chests rising and falling heavily, while Dawson stood over them.

"I should’ve done this a lot sooner because it seems some of you still think we’re playing international friendlies and can take it easy."

"You can’t even keep this up for 90 minutes," Dawson went on as the players began to look towards him.

"The Chelsea game is going to come down to who presses who better. Simple."

Leo wiped sweat from his forehead while Dawson looked around at them one last time.

"We will go through the same thing tomorrow, and I hope you’re up for it tomorrow because if you aren’t, you are going to the bench."

After that, Dawson didn’t linger any more and just walked away.

Leo watched him go and stayed down for another few seconds before finally pushing himself upright.

He reached up and pulled the headband from his forehead, letting the cold air hit his forehead skin, which had been suppressed by the headband before wiping the sweat away.

"Jesus," Leo muttered to himself before he began to walk down the tunnel, and then the rest of the squad slowly followed, one by one.

The next few days passed much the same way as both teams got into the groove for the clash to come.

Wigan trained and so did Chelsea.

Both clubs knew exactly what the other had done earlier in the season, and neither side was pretending the previous result had been forgotten.

Among Chelsea supporters, the mood was still about the same idea of forcing Wigan, who had been in a slump until their recent win, to give up points against their team.

Chelsea wanted their response and Wigan wanted to prove that the four-one win at Stamford Bridge had been something intentional, even though nobody would really blame them if they lost.

Still, Dawson at the Wigan complex was doing everything in his power to make sure that didn’t become the case.

The intensity did not drop.

Not even one bit.

By the middle of the week, even Thompson was beginning to question it.

Dawson stood beside the training pitch watching another demanding session when Thompson approached.

"You know," Thompson said, "if we keep this up, someone’s going to get hurt."

The latter stood there with a questioning gaze, but Dawson didn’t answer.

Seeing the man hell-bent on making sure that his side went through the wringer, Thompson sighed and gave up.

"Right," he muttered and then walked away.

For Leo, the evenings were easier.

Whenever he had the energy, he spent some of them with Mia and Sofia, enjoying the small pockets of normality that came with the Christmas and New Year period.

Sofia even invited Jake, Ezra and Carlo over for dinner before the Chelsea game.

It was nothing elaborate.

They ate, argued about football, laughed at each other and spent more time talking about things outside the sport than they probably realised.

For a few hours, there was no pressure about points, dropped leads or Chelsea.

And it was good like that, until January arrived.

The first day of the new year dawned over England, with another full day of football waiting ahead.

And for Leo, his morning started with Vittoria.

Her face appeared on his phone while he was still half-awake.

"I have a question."

Leo smiled and then nodded for her to ask away.

"What if I just don’t go?"

"Go where?"

"The dinner."

Vittoria lowered her voice dramatically.

"What if I just skip it and come to you?"

Leo laughed and then dragged the covers over his face before pulling them down to answer her.

"That would give me a terrible reputation before I’ve even met your audience."

Vittoria smiled and then brushed it off.

"You’ll be good. Old people like you. Their kids... not so much!"

"That makes it more unappealing."

She laughed, then went on to talk for a while before Leo eventually glanced at the time.

"Tori, I’ve got to go."

"Already?"

"Unfortunately. The match is in three hours."

Vittoria sighed and then leaned away from her video feed.

"Fine."

"I’ll call you later."

"I don’t know about that....."

"I will—oh yeah, the party," Leo remembered as Vittoria nodded.

"Bye Leo," Vittoria said before ending the call with a kiss.

After that, Leo set his phone aside and finally got himself moving.

He showered, dressed and began preparing for the match.

His matchday duffel sat open on the bed as he packed everything he needed, checking his boots before placing them inside.

Tape, spare clothes, toiletries and the rest followed, and once he was ready, he headed out.

Instead of going to the training complex, Leo drove directly to the DW.

Dawson had given them the option to bring their own rides to the stadium, and to counter that, he’d imposed a fine, which meant being late meant a hefty cut from your salary.

And Dawson had made it very clear that he did not care how important a player thought he was.

Not wanting to test Dawson’s anger, Leo arrived with time to spare.

He walked through the stadium, greeting staff members and workers as he went.

"Morning, Leo."

"Morning."

"Happy New Year."

"You too."

By the time he reached the locker room, several players were already there.

Leo greeted them before dropping his bag beside his place while the room slowly filled.

Players arrived in groups, some talking loudly, others sitting quietly with headphones in.

A few discussed the day’s match, while others were more interested in what they had done the previous night, and through it all, Leo sat back, letting the music from his headphones wash over him until the atmosphere changed.

"Let’s get to warming up," Nolan said as the squad rose from their seats and began making their way outside.

This was as real as it got.