"Fade, you stars! At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!"
The above is the translated last line from "Nessun Dorma", one of the most famous tenor arias ever written.
Before Saturday's final home match of the now immortal 2015/16 Premier League season, Leicester City supporters heard those words bellowed through the King Power Stadium by none other than Andrea Bocelli, famed tenor.
Though the original meaning was far from the football pitch and its constant battle for fame and silverware, they rang true for the 32,000-plus blue-clad supporters on hand.
Leicester City Football Club were, on this day of days, to be officially crowned Champions of England.
As I sat in my seat in the press area, reveling in what I was witnessing before me, the tears welled in my eyes. My throat became tight. My fingers trembled.
Bocelli, whose thunderous serenading of his friend and Leicester manager Claudio Ranieri, was a moment like no other. As he removed his sweatshirt midway through the performance to reveal his blue King Power kit, adorned with brand new Premier League Champions patches, it became too real. The crowd raised the volume an extra notch that was immediately matched by the 57-year-old Italian, who projected even further to heighten the unbelievable atmosphere.
The blue and white flags waved ferociously. The sun broke through the clouds for a brief moment between scattered rainstorms. The latest party was beginning after nearly a week of knowing the title would rest with Richard III in England's most central and unassuming city.
And I was there to witness it, in my hometown.
Following "Nessun Dorma", Bocelli closed his impromptu concerto with "Con Te Partiro" (Time To Say Goodbye). The crowd, left stunned at the gravity of what they were seeing and the moment they were experiencing, applauded him off the stage like he was one of their club's beloved title-winning players.
Leicester winning the Premier League crown was much like what we all witnessed before the match that day. It was something few believed was a reality, a possibility. A performer of Bocelli's indisputable stature, in a blue Foxes shirt singing his heart out as a favor to Ranieri, the first-time champion manager of Leicester City.
No matter how many times I re-watch it (and it's been a high number), the shiver down my spine returns and I'm instantly transported back to a day that will go down as one of the greatest ever, in not only Leicester's history, but that of the entirety of English football.
That was just the beginning.
No more than 30 minutes later, the incredulous Jamie Vardy was depositing his 23rd goal of the season to give Leicester the 1-0 lead against a visiting Everton, setting the crowd into a state that can only be described as euphoric.
The Foxes' play in the remaining 85 minutes of the match was as beautiful as Bocelli's voice and arguably one of their most resounding performances of the entire season. 22 shots, two fabulous team goals, attacking spirit, resolute defending, total dominance. The only blemish was Kevin Mirallas' late strike but it quickly became an afterthought as the celebrations would soon be reaching new heights.
It was a dream I thought to myself over and over again. I wasn't really there. It wasn't really happening. Ranieri's insistence all season that the club and its supporters should keep its head in the clouds had actually lifted us from our seats and desks and day jobs and transported us to a far away imaginary place. There was no conceivable way that this, was in fact, reality.
Between short periods of fervent visual documentation of the unfolding events, I'd force myself to stop everything. Fight off the emotions, cease the insistent leg tapping and focus, really focus. Then I'd close my eyes and just listen.
"We know what we are! We know what we are! Champions of England! We know what we are!"
"We're coming for you! We're coming for you! Bar-cel-o-na! We're coming for you!"
"Dilly Ding! Dilly Dong! Dilly Dong! Dilly dong! We're all going on a European tour! A European tour! A European tour!"
The perfectly-pitched chants from the Leicester supporters would make even Bocelli proud...and unlike the Italian's astonishing show to open the afternoon, they did not stop the entire match or in the hours afterwards as the city went berserk celebrating its club's astonishing achievement.
Shortly after the match had concluded, it was time to put the rubber stamp on Leicester's season with the presentation of the Barclays Premier League trophy.
As it was marched onto the pitch by club ambassador Alan Birchenall, it finally began to sink in. I was at peace. I had happily slid down from the clouds above me and was firmly planted in place (standing, of course) and ready for what was to happen next.
The owners, the coaches and the team followed Birch back onto the pitch with medals being dispatched to the rag-tag squad of athletes who had overcome insurmountable odds to be where they were at this moment.
Last in the procession was the captain Wes Morgan, a lifetime Championship player before this season who had grown into himself as a player and has become the embodiment of this upstart Leicester bunch.
After he received his medal, it was time for him to lift the trophy. With Ranieri in tow, the pair thrust the great silver structure into the air as the fireworks and confetti were blasted through the ground. Leicester City Football Club, champions of England.
From that point on, I remain frozen. As the trophy was passed from player to player, coach to coach, owner to owner. As it was walked around the pitch and presented to the supporters. As the families of the players celebrated with their title-winning kin. I just stared, letting it all sink in. Leicester City Football Club, champions of England.
The day was unlike any other in my life as a follower of sports. How could anything come close?
Bocelli was celebrating the moment for his friend Ranieri, but he was also serenading every single Leicester supporter for the accomplishment. The players were raising the trophy as part of a team but each of them, to a man, said it was for the fans in their interviews afterwards. Ranieri, the first time title winner, who had seen all the highs and lows of football in his career that has spanned four decades, dedicated it all to the supporters.
"Nessun Dorma", in all its magnificent glory, needed an update to accurately capture the tale of Leicester City in this most unbelievable of seasons:
"Fade, you stars! At dawn, We will win! We will win! We will win!"