The thirty minutes following the Port Vale own goal were a blur of beautiful, glorious, and utterly unhinged football.
The referee, a man who had clearly lost all control and was now just a spectator with a whistle, let the game flow, resulting in a chaotic, end-to-end spectacle that resembled a basketball match more than a soccer game.
The half-time whistle was a welcome act of mercy.
In the Apex dressing room, Ethan faced a unique challenge. His team wasn't demoralized or tired. They were a giggling, adrenaline-fueled mess.
"Did you see the look on their keeper's face?" Jonathan Rowe was wheezing, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "He looked like his dog had just been stolen by a particularly sad clown."
"And their manager!" David Kerrigan cackled. "I think a vein in his forehead actually exploded. It was beautiful."
