ABERDEEN had just scored a late winner at Tynecastle and the away fans were tumbling over their seats in jubilation. I, on the other hand, was subdued.

For the second time in three weeks I’d done something I’d previously never tried before in my life: sat in the home end for an Aberdeen away match. At Celtic Park it had been easier to remain incognito, witnessing as I did an uneventful 1-0 defeat. This was more of a challenge: a tight match against a close rival with the perfect, last-ditch denouement.

But I and my fellow infiltrator did well. We tutted conspicuously at misplaced passes by Hearts’ Lithuanian duds, and got to our feet to applaud the arrival from the subs’ bench of local hero Paul Hartley. Our best performance, though, came with at the winning goal. As Steve Lovell scored, we slapped the seats in front of us and seethed "That’s terrible defending!", the merest curl of a smile at the edge of our lips.

Afterwards, though, the rosy afterglow of such a satisfying win was dimmer than usual. I felt like I’d enjoyed the goal about 10 per cent as much as I would have under normal circumstances. The enjoyment of a goal like that winner at Tynecastle isn’t all about witnessing it first-hand – it’s about losing yourself in euphoria, wherever you are. I’d have been better off listening to Radio Scotland in my living room, or even seeing “Lovell 87” flash up on Teletext.