Leo came up from under the pile with his shirt half twisted, his hair everywhere and a smile that had been there since the net moved and showed no signs of leaving.
His teammates pulled him upright through a tangle of arms and bodies, the celebration refusing to settle as more players arrived.
The noise rolling down from the away end felt impossible.
There weren't enough Wigan supporters in the stadium to be this loud, yet somehow they were, their voices crashing across Stamford Bridge in relentless waves.
On the broadcast, the commentary settled back into something coherent.
"There is no way Wigan are losing this now," the commentator said.
"A man up, three one ahead, and seventeen minutes to play. I'll say it plainly."
"Football is unpredictable," the co-commentator said.
"That's the first thing you learn and the last thing you forget. But this?" he paused, "This is as settled as it gets. And I wouldn't be remotely surprised if they added to it."
