The game of football may as well be poured from a cup - it can be that fluid. Sometimes, moments happen that seem uncomfortable to confront within your mind.
Did that really happen? You ask yourself over and over and over and over and over, again and again. Was that deserved? How? Why? What even?
That’s the magic of the game. It’s why we all turn up. We love the narrative, we love the tapestry woven from game to game, but we have within us all, a primal instinct that roars in delight - booting the amygdala into overdrive - when something goes so far against the grain that it seems impossible.
Aston Villa didn’t really deserve to win three points. They scored out of nowhere in the dying embers of a barely alive match of football. Robert Snodgrass once again greased his palms and performed his Houdini routine - wriggling Villa to victory as he seems to do so often.
So, Robert - what are you drinking? The city is yours, tonight.