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AT around 4.55pm on Saturday, May 7, a noise erupted in a suburb of north Bristol: a roar so powerful it not only deafened the good people living there but also quite probably rocked the very foundations of their homes.
The spontaneous outpouring was the sum total of a vast store of raw emotions which had been bottled up not for days and weeks, but for months, years and even decades.
On the surface, this shout merely hailed the injury time goal fullback Lee Brown stabbed home to give Bristol Rovers a 2-1 win over already relegated Dagenham in a League Two fixture.
But to treat it in isolation would be to fail completely to understand what it means to be a Gashead.
It was a day when three points were the minimum requirement if Rovers were to have a chance of achieving back-to-back promotions without suffering the arduous, heart-pounding process of the play-offs.
And when the final whistle blew two minutes later, fans and players were made aware that rivals Accrington had failed to win their match at home to Stevenage, meaning the promotion party could officially begin.
But what to do?
Grown men and women, with a lifetime's experience of the trials and tribulations that come with pinning your flag to the blue and white quarters, weren't sure what etiquette demanded of them on such an occasion.
Tentatively they followed younger members of the Rovers faithful out onto the Memorial Stadium turf, where they proceeded to leap around wildly, punch the air and take "selfies" with anyone in close proximity. It was like the worst excesses of dad dancing at a relative's wedding because it was so spontaneous and from the heart.
As the chant of "We are going up, say we are going up" rose into the night sky some were shouting it a bit too loudly, probably feeling that the more robustly they sang, the more likely the truth would sink in.
Understandable. The truth is moments like this just don't happen to a Bristol Rovers fan... it's akin to an unlucky serial gambler suddenly discovering they've won the lottery.
The Rovers way is generally the hard way, with the last two promotions coming about through a series of heart-stopping moments in a stadium 200 miles from home.
Nine years ago victory over Shrewsbury at Wembley wasn't sealed until the final kick of the game, after the Rovers goal had been put under siege. Suddenly, the pressure was relieved by the little legs of Sammy Igoe who ran 50 yards before sending a perfectly weighted shot agonisingly over the line, the intake of breath from Rovers fans behind the goal drawing it into the net.
Then, in last season's crucial Conference play-off final, it took extra time and penalties before Lee Mansell broke Grimsby hearts by firing in the winning spot-kick at the home of English football.
The roar that followed that moment was fed not by elation but pure relief – a totally different scenario from Saturday. Most of us were just grateful our team wouldn't have to fight it out any more with the Altrinchams and Wokings of this world.
Of course, in 1990 there was that famous day in May when we pipped our neighbours City to the Division Three title, but that took place on a borrowed ground in a different town which, though making the achievement even greater perhaps, meant the celebrations were more fragmented.
Not since Don Megson's side clinched promotion during the Eastville days of 1974 has there ever been anything to equate with Saturday – a promotion celebration at our own ground, in our own back yard.
Since then, many of the supporters will have suffered a catalogue of dramas in their everyday lives: illness and operations, redundancies, divorces, even the loss of family and friends.
Those, for example, like the relatives of fervent Gashead Paul Withey who organised a spontaneous outbreak of applause on 42 minutes (to tie in with his age) as a mark of respect following his tragic death in the Tour de Bristol bike ride.
Through all the trials and tribulations, traumas and new beginnings, though, there has been one constant in the lives of every Gashead at the Mem on Saturday – the love of a football club which they treat like an extension to the family.
And just like any family member Rovers can let you down, frustrate you, surprise you and cause you to despair.
Love for the Gas is unconditional, a state of affairs that has been tested close to breaking point in recent times.
And that is why that roar on Saturday was so powerful... it simply represented the sum total of every emotion we have ever felt since the first day we set eyes on our wonderful Boys in Blue.
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