John Cleese – a surprise presence here in Gijon – would’ve exploded had he been at the game!

Three-nil up after 37, Sporting chucked it away to lose in the fifth minute of added time courtesy of VAR. What a game!

One of the delights of Gijon is the Life of Brian homage in the old city – designed to pique interest in this ancient city’s Roman origins.

The above describes graffiti archaeologists found on a Roman garrison wall: ‘Here lives happiness’, with an erect phallus next to it.

No erect penises or Roman grafitti in the Sporting stadium, though it might have lifted the first impression.

Best known for hosting West Germany’s famous loss to Algeria in the 1982 World Cup, El Molinon is OK inside but a bit grubby on the outside.

The grey, faded cladding has random geometric shapes a la 1980s TV Saturday swapshop chic stuck to it. Looks like you might catch something from it.

But it’s redeemed by palpable respect for ex-players and a strong sense of club history.

Castro’s brother is club all-time top scorer. He gets a statue. And the stadium’s official name is El Molinon-Enrique Castro ‘Quini’. 272 goals in 521 games coinciding with Sporting’s late 70s heyday when they finished second in La Liga and lost the cup final twice. He also scored eight in 35 Spain games.

Ex-manager Manuel Preciado kept Sporting in the top flight for six years until 2012, calling Madrid boss Jose Mourinho a ‘scumbag’ en route and winning at the Bernabeu.

The day he was appointed Villarreal boss, the 40-a-day smoker died. Revered here though.

Sporting were 12th in the second division before the game, Albacete 16th, with the visitors’ six matches having produced 23 goals, so a goal feast was always on the cards.

Classic club song clunker to start. Visiting keeper Lizoain then failed to take a cross cleanly. It bounced off his chest for Dubasin to stab home.

Here the scoreboard flashes up the scorer mugging for the camera. Dubasin jiggled like Donald Duck walking across the street, which put me off him immediately.

Gelabert made it two after 29. We got an image of him offering a fist with three fingers pointing down – was the poor bugger born without a pinkie and thumb I wondered? Big rugged tattooed rapper vibes.

Then local lad Gaspar scored the third on 37. He’s got a nice smile and we got smiley heart pic as he channelled Gareth Bale.

Game over, then, but it was a slightly fortunate three-goal lead.

Albacete had kept pushing forward and the defence had their heads in sheds.

Three-nil down. Twas but a flesh wound!

There were 14 minutes added on to the first half after the game had to stop for a medical emergency in the stand.

In the seventh, Agus Medina netted from a Jon Morcillo cross. The first half finished an hour after kick-off.

Extra spam, spam and more spam in the half-time sarnies perhaps, but Albacete always seemed to look on the bright side life despite being apparently nailed to a cross.

They came out like kings. Sporting brought out their dead. Albacete dominated the entire second half in a staggering team performance – one of the best I’ve witnessed in any sport.

Sporting, you have to say, certainly live up to their name. That is, they sportingly put their feet up like they were working in a Sixties factory. Football’s equivalent of a Norwegian blue.

The game changer was former Athletic Bilbao winger-who-never-quite-made-it Morcillo, switching wings.

He crossed from the right and funky cool Medina got the second.

Two minutes to go, Morcillo cut in and curled in a shot from outside – a goal that had Gareth Bale all over. Brilliant!

Then came everybody’s favourite football phenomenon. VAR farted in Sporting’s general direction.

In the 97th minute it found a penalty in Albacete’s favour.

Morcillo, of course, took it and, of course, made it 4-3. Two goals, two assists.

For Albacete, he was the Messiah. For furious Gijonians he was a very naughty boy.

For this neutral, he was a marvel. An absolutely fantastic comeback, to cap an extraordinary, brilliant game.