We were done.

Out in a disastrous failure.

Watching the clock from 70 minutes the despair grew and grew.

Then it was 80 minutes and people looked around – anxiety growing.

At 85 minutes – there was the dawn of a new reality. We were done.

At 88 minutes there were sighs of acceptance that defeat and its consequence were about to arrive.

When you looked up and it was 92 minutes gone, your legs were weak and your guts quite empty.

The play was at the far end. There was no hope when the clock was at 94 minutes.

We were not roaring them on. It was quiet.

I did not see it happen. I was saw the players celebrate.

The terracing went mental.

Then there was a short break. A sense of amazement.

Then Harry scored.

We won.

We were through ..

Recovery was difficult – the complete reversal of fortune in a couple of minutes.

Extreme emotional acceleration – down and then up.

Its football. The beautiful game.