The away section of Molineux Stadium was a tiny island of pure, unadulterated bedlam in a vast, silent sea of gold and black. The few hundred Apex United fans who had made the trip were singing, shouting, and hugging strangers, their voices hoarse with a joy so profound it bordered on disbelief.
On the pitch, the players in the all-black kits were a mirror image of their supporters.
They danced, they laughed, they embraced, a band of brothers who had just achieved the impossible.
Kenny McLean, the 32-year-old veteran and scorer of the winning goal, was being spun around in a circle by the two teenagers, Viktor and Emre, a look of giddy, childish delight on his face.
"I'm too old for this!" he wheezed, laughing.
"My heart can't take it!"
"That's what you get for making a 70-yard run in extra time, you old lunatic!" Ben Gibson shouted, clapping him on the back.
"What were you even doing up there?"
"The gaffer told us to be illogical!" McLean retorted.
