When the prize is so enormous, potentially era-defining for your little corner of the footballing world, you avoid tempting fate by displaying pride too soon. As such, it was the 95th minute that one end of the national stadium really began to bounce. Before then, there had been little outbreaks of ultimate celebration: the occasional ole, the hugs between friends and family, that age-old chant in which every word becomes its own sentence.
But with only half of stoppage time remaining, they sang it loud and proud and all as one at last: We. Are. Going.
Up. For those of us in Wembley of a neutral persuasion, that result had been written in pen and then stone a long time ago. Bolton Wanderers came into the League One playoff final as favourites and failed to have a single shot on target.
They were spooked by Oxford’s resilience, then their counter-attacking threat, then by their own inability to do anything well. Read Next The qualified pilot steering Oxford United's promotion push To trail for 70 minutes in the biggest game of your season is unideal. To manage five measly shots in 104 minutes despite chasing the game should be a cause of great resentment.
Bolton Wanderers supporters have been through an awful lot over the last decade, bringing each other so close. And Bolton were booed off at half-time. That tells you how bad things got.
Because life in the EFL is generally tough, a land of sweat and tears rather than milk and honey thanks to the avarice of English football�.