I promised myself I wouldn't break down in the press box if Villa won. One FaceTime call later, and I'm a wreck.
It's the kind of night you hope to speak of with your grandchildren. Dad will still speak to his, with memories I've now vividly visualised as my own - of queuing for European Cup final tickets outside Villa Park in the caravan, of that sweltering coach ride across to Rotterdam. "Let me grab my coach pass," he'll then say.
There might not be another high for Villa like De Kuip for generations. But for those who weren't there - for those who endured Rotherham, Wigan, everything in between - nothing may ever touch this feeling again. This is the night.
I'm about to watch Villa lift a European trophy... it's actually too early to fully grasp what this feeling is. Words alone don't describe it.
I wish I could have shared this with mom, dad, brother - see Ozzy the boxer dancing around the living room when Youri Tielemans and Emi Buendia each scored a goal of the season contender. But I know how proud they are of the privilege I've had - covering this club every day for the last three years. From Washington to Warsaw, Philadelphia to Paris, Maryland to Monaco, Alkmaar, Amsterdam, and Athens. How lucky am I?
I'm glad they can't see me now, though - getting choked up, tapping this out, then looking up into Istanbul's midnight sky. Waiting. Just waiting for that moment - for John McGinn to lift the trophy and send it glinting into the night. It'll start sinking in then I'm sure, slowly.
This job has taken me to places I never thought I'd go, literally. Witnessing a European trophy lift, however, was a shared dream for us all - for those who can't remember '82, and for those who weren't even born for it. It's also something we never thought possible in the next decade before Unai Emery's arrival.
Euphoria. Surreal joy. It's written across every face to my left - 11,000 Villa fans, each one lost in it. Hands on heads. Strangers hugging. And back home, I know it's the same - The Warehouse, the Witton Arms, the Utilita Arena, and in every pub across the Second City.
And I know soon - maybe in hours - we'll all think of those who brought us here. Those who passed this down. Those who made this club part of who we are. The ones who aren't here to see it. How we ached for moments like this. How we wish they had just one more night like this.
Nights like these bind our fanbase. Whether here in Istanbul or not, it's the journey that matters - the one that, for many of us, started decades ago, not just in Edinburgh when Villa returned to European competition under Emery in 2023/24.
I turned 26 at the start of the year - promotion back to the Premier League was the moment of glory before tonight, when I was still a teenager. I've never been great company on Monday mornings - especially in 2016, not after Barnsley the year after, not through all those long, heavy seasons where hope felt like hard work.
A decade on, Villa will host Champions League football for a second time in three years as Europa League champions. I think back even a few years ago, let alone 10 in my teenage years, that young lad would have never thought this was achievable so soon.
So, in exam season, if you've skipped prep for a morning paper, then good on you - nights like this are part of your education too. Villa is a constant in your life, and while none of us expect success to last forever, for tonight and the weeks to follow, we'll believe that this can be something even bigger.
Maybe a dynasty of silverware. Let's dream because they came true eventually. If you're not getting giddy tonight, you never will. Winning breeds winning. But still, savour it. This is your first, and the next could be 30 years away again.
So hold onto it. Properly. Let it stay with you. Because whatever comes next - whatever the future looks like - we'll always have this. And it will never, ever get old.
