"What the fuck?"
One man had said it, low and disbelieving, but he wasn't seeing things.
The people around him were already looking where he was looking.
One section rose.
Then the one beside it as the noise climbed in a way that had nothing to do with what was happening on the pitch, and over in the away end, the Bristol City supporters looked at each other with the particular bafflement of visiting fans trying to decode a reaction that hadn't been caused by anything they could see.
On the touchline, warming up in a Wigan bib, was Leo.
The crowd watched him jog a few paces, watched him stretch, watched him exist in that space between the dugout and the pitch like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the noise built because they didn't know what else to do with what they were seeing.
"I told you," someone said, three rows back in the lower stand, pointing like a man who had been waiting a long time to point.
"I told all of you."
