Ninety-five minutes of fitba at Stark's Park made me remember why we bother at all.
This was it, the Scottish Cup embodied by a quagmire pitch, a dinky wee ground and plucky lower division hopefuls punching above their weight. So much so that I admit it - we were lucky.
Aberdeen aren't renowned for scoring late goals to rescue affairs deep into stoppage time. Here, for all their efforts, it didn't look like they'd manage in a month of Sundays. Instead it had all the hallmarks of another bleak calamity until Gary McDonald somehow swept us into a replay, just to keep the emotional wringer ticking over.
The unlikely reprieve must make the players waken up and acknowledge their good fortune, though, because heaven help them if they contrive to make a dog's dinner of their next crack at Raith.