In that six-minute period, the game turned on its head, as the world watched the greatest ever fight back. We had them on the back foot, the whole pub rocked and swayed at every move from the reds. People were looking round at each other in joyous disbelief as we drew level. I dared not say it, but I felt we had the measure of our opponents, and I felt calm - for now.
So to extra time and much of the same, until probably the defining moment - Dudek's save from Shevchenko. My heart would have been broken had it gone in.
Penalties were now the order of the day. I found I had to go outside as the tension was unbearable. I was not the only one - fans with heads in their hands, pacing nervously or just looking up to the sky for divine inspiration. I couldn't face walking back in, so watched the shoot-out through the window of the pub, comical as it seems. I remember having to relay to a man who was stepping up to take the next penalty as he was frozen with fear.
I was unaware of anyone around me as I slipped into my deepest thoughts when Shevchenko stepped up. He surely wouldn't miss. The feeling when he did is hard to explain. I raced into the pub and hugged complete strangers as the place erupted.
We spilled out to Anfield, where many had started to gather, car horns beeped, people danced and the party had begun. There was no time to reflect on not making the pilgrimage to Istanbul, I was in the next best place.
The enormity of what we had achieved took time to sink in. We were champions of Europe again. That had a familiar ring.
