Fourth minute.
On the pitch, Ibrahimović suddenly broke through and found himself one-on-one with the Wigan Athletic goalkeeper!
The opportunity came from a brilliant moment in midfield. Morecambe had just retained possession when, out of nowhere, they burst forward with pace!
Wigan Athletic, still lulled into the slow rhythm of the opening minutes, were completely caught off guard. Their defensive shape collapsed in an instant.
A gaping hole opened on the right side of their backline.
Ronaldinho, calm and technical as ever, delivered a devastatingly precise through ball that carved Wigan's defense apart.
Ibrahimović, who had been lingering beside the central defender, surged forward in a flash—completely free!
He took the ball cleanly, glanced out of the corner of his eye to check the chasing defender's distance—still several meters away. He relaxed and shifted his focus to the goalkeeper.
But the Wigan Athletic keeper was caught off guard. The danger had arrived too fast, and he hesitated—failing to close down the angle in time.
By the time he reacted, Ibrahimović had already struck.
Boom!
A low, curling shot—powerful, precise, and cutting sharply toward the far post!
It was perfectly timed. The keeper was still moving when the ball was already past him.
Too late.
He turned his head helplessly, only to see the ball nestle into the bottom corner of the net.
---
A collective gasp echoed through the stadium.
Most of the fans in the stands were Wigan Athletic supporters, and their faces twisted in disbelief.
Four minutes in, and they were already down a goal?
To a League Two side?
How could this be happening?
But while the Wigan crowd reeled in frustration, Ibrahimović raced away in celebration. Arms outstretched like a glider, he sprinted toward the corner flag, leapt into the air, and pumped his right fist.
His teammates caught up moments later, enveloping him in a wave of cheers and embraces.
---
In the VIP stand...
"This goal... came out of nowhere..." muttered a stunned club owner.
He had just been listening to Wood's lofty speech about Morecambe being no threat—and now this.
"I saw the whole thing," a League Two club owner said. "That new midfielder they signed—cost them ten million—threaded a world-class pass. Opened up the whole defense."
"Individual brilliance?" another boss asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not just that," the League Two boss replied thoughtfully. "The whole team just... shifted gears. Like they'd been holding something back."
Some of the VIPs turned toward the flustered Wood.
"Well, Mr. Wood," one of the men smirked, "What's your expert take now?"
Another, dressed in a sharp suit, added with a chuckle, "You were mid-sentence about Morecambe being out of their depth."
Wood, sweating visibly, slumped back in his chair, his face red with embarrassment.
"Ah, well... you know, even a team from a lower league can get a lucky break. They took their chance well, that's all."
He tried to brush it off, but his discomfort was obvious. The sweat on his back had soaked through his shirt.
It had been years since Wood had felt this kind of public humiliation.
He just wanted to disappear.
The other club owners offered half-hearted remarks in support:
"Well, it's only four minutes in."
"Wigan just didn't settle yet. They'll bounce back."
"Jones will get his chances, just you wait."
They were cautious now, afraid of ending up like Wood—mocked for talking too soon.
But deep down, they still believed in Wigan's star striker—Jones.
---
Back to the pitch...
Beep!
The referee blew his whistle to restart the game.
Jones took possession in the center circle and immediately charged forward toward Morecambe's defensive third.
But within moments, he noticed a towering defender tracking him stride for stride.
That fierce expression. That physical presence.
It was Nemanja Vidić.
Jones felt a flicker of unease—but tried to shake it off. He'd gone up against plenty of big defenders in League One.
Then came the long ball.
Boom!
The Wigan midfielder, pressed hard by Morecambe's frontline, didn't hesitate—he launched a direct long pass toward Jones.
The crowd surged to their feet, eyes glued to their star forward.
Morecambe had pushed high, leaving space at the back. It was four attackers against three defenders.
A dangerous moment.
Jones leapt, eyes fixed on the ball, intending to flick it left to a teammate.
But Vidić had other plans.
The Serbian defender, eyes locked on Ronaldinho ahead, jumped right behind Jones.
Just as Jones reached midair, a thunderous force slammed into his back.
Boom!
A solid header from Vidić—clean, powerful, dominant.
The ball didn't go left.
It was cleared straight back toward midfield—right into Ronaldinho's path.
The Brazilian maestro turned instantly and sprinted into the open space behind Wigan's defense.
---
Jones landed, stunned.
He turned and looked back at Vidić—who wore the same cold, unfazed expression as always.
He didn't even celebrate.
---
Another wave of groans echoed from the Wigan supporters in the stands.
Some sat down in frustration. Others threw their hands in the air.
Jones clenched his fists but felt a hollow pit forming in his chest.
Vidić had made it look easy.
And just like that, the momentum was back with Morecambe.
---