Darren Fletcher was still grinning when he climbed back over the advertising boards.
His teammates came with him in a rush of wet shirts and wild faces, some still shouting, all of them dragged back toward the pitch by the match officials who had allowed the celebration to breathe for only so long.
Fletcher's chest was heaving by the time he crossed the touchline again, and though he already knew what was coming, he took it well enough.
The referee reached into his pocket with the expression of a man doing a job he did not enjoy.
Fletcher held out a hand as if to say, " Fair enough."
And after that, the yellow card went up.
He accepted it with a crooked smile and a small nod before jogging back toward the centre circle, still riding the buzz of the equaliser.
On the touchline, Dawson had already let the emotion pass through him.
Nolan was beside him, both of them still flushed from the goal, but the manager's mind had moved on.
