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When Adam Forshaw scored the winning penalty yesterday my body took control, propelling me onto the Griffin Park pitch in a tidal wave of joy.

I didn’t really know what I was doing to be honest, I ran around for a bit with my arms aloft surrounded by fellow fans, their faces etched with joy and relief. I’d not intended to go on the pitch at all, but had moved to the front of the Ealing Road from my normal spot behind the goal to try and get some oxygen into my body and soul.

The previous hour had been frankly horrific. I can’t have been the only Brentford fan who thought they were going to die on the terrace, my body a crumpled useless heap, drained by this brilliant, but brutal, rollercoaster of a season.

Forshaw himself admitted after the game that he’d struggled through extra time. God only knows how he scored that penalty – I could barely even stand at the time.

So, to join my Brentford family on the hallowed turf for a celebration of pure unadulterated joy, was something that will live with me forever.

I was there when the heroic Harlee Dean was carried aloft by the crowd. I was there when the green-bibbed Marcello Trotta led a potty jumping chorus of “we are going up”. I was there to thank Clayton for everything he’s done this season.

I also bumped into Jake Reeves four times – and hugged him four times. Poor sod. He was wandering around in his blazer and tie with a massive grin across his cheeky face. Hopefully he’ll see plenty more celebratory times too in his career at Griffin Park – just without me hugging him!

The players later took a deserved lap of honour as the crowds returned to the stands. I’m hoping its not their last this season.

Condorman