Here's an admission. When I started covering the Revs this year I was asked by curious friends in the UK how long the season went until.
I told them October.
In my defense, years of supporting Oldham Athletic had gone a long way towards stripping all of the optimism the soccer Gods had given me at birth. Home defeats on rainy Tuesday nights to the likes of Hartlepool United and a long trip to bottom-of-the-table Hereford only to see them slump to a 4-0 first-half hiding can do that to you, believe me.
But back in March I did not know lots of things. For a start – that this would be a team that does not know when to lie down, when to quit or when to do what the experts say they're going to do. A team whose season keeps on rolling with leaves on the ground and the big coat out of the wardrobe.
Another confession: at half-time on Saturday I feared we were done. Outmuscled for long periods in the first half and looking a little fragile at the back I thought the end was here and it was wearing sky blue shirts and shorts.
But, as they have done so often this year, the Revs went out for the second half and punched me in the face and I loved it. First it was Welsh Wizard Andy Dorman, who had promised me some second-half magic when we spoke during the interval (and my earpiece fell out). Damn right a tap-in counts.
Then it was Kelyn Rowe. How good would it be to see that celebration in a duck boat?
Dreamland. Yes they tried to shake us awake when Aurelien Collin nabbed one back and almost managed it at the death but Matt Reis, who has been a messiah in his second coming this season, kept that dream alive.
One percent? You betcha. This season fans of the New England Revolution are the filthy rich minority. We are the cats that got the cream, the elite at the top of the pile.
And the best thing? Our gut-busting gift givers keep on giving.
Roll on Wednesday.