Wales started the Six Nations with a whimper. They ended it in disbelief.
As the shock of defeat to Italy sank in around the Principality Stadium, many in red jerseys stood there motionless. Just one, Josh Adams, sunk to his haunches. The official man of the match, the Cardiff winger had, at times, taken the fight to the Italians single-handedly. A sad indictment of Wales' performance if ever there was one.
As Italian tears started to flow, it would be Adams who picked up fly-half Paolo Garbisi from the turf after his match-winning conversion. Overcome by emotion, Adams simply offered him an embrace.
Captain Dan Biggar, in no mood to celebrate his 100th Welsh cap, stepped over the scenes of Italian celebration quickly developing and wandered over to a quieter corner free of elated blue jerseys. There, he untied the laces of his boots methodically, slipping off one, then the other. Boots now in hand, he walked past the Italian throng and towards the tunnel.
Frustration growing, he tossed one boot furiously into the ground. The other discarded to the side with little care. Before he could reach the touchline, a track-suited Liam Williams - not in the matchday 23 - stopped him short of walking off the pitch, offering an ear for the fly-half's frustrations at not closing out what would have been an uninspiring, yet completely expected victory.
Eventually, Biggar returned to the pitch, with son James, still unable to process quite what had unfolded. From the off, things hadn't quite seemed right about this match.
Johnny McNicholl, in for Williams at full-back, was greeted with a totally sincere chant of "Go on, Liam" the first time he touched the ball. That set the tone for a day when things just seemed off.
Back for his 150th Welsh cap after a long injury lay-off, Alun Wyn Jones struggled to make an impact around the pitch. The usual non-negotiables were there, like being the first up to halfway ahead of kick-offs. But he felt a little neutered for whatever reason, having little influence either during play or in the breaks.
Bar one brief conversation with referee Andrew Brace, he cut a quiet figure. Contrast that with some of the other Welsh forwards, who tried in vain to inject something which resembled life into proceedings.
Seb Davies could be heard barking instructions from ruck to ruck. "Your jackal, Ad," he yelled at vice-captain Adam Beard. "Your jackal." Minutes later, he was the first to congratulate Josh Navidi for earning a breakdown penalty. "Well done, Navs! That's how you jackal!"
When Will Rowlands and Ross Moriarty entered the fold, they too did their best to offer verbal and physical cues which might spark an improvement on the pitch. Second-row Rowlands, on for Jones, was relentlessly vocal around the fringes, while Moriarty lived every big moment with the usual vein-popping intensity you'd expect.
But, as the Italians forged in front through a series of penalties, Welsh frustration grew. The TV cameras picked up a slew of pictures from the Welsh coaching box that would make a lip-reader blush. But it wasn't all pleasantries on the pitch as Wales struggled to make much of an impact. By the time half-time rolled around, an insipid Wales were under no illusions of the task at hand. "Get the f**k in now," barked Biggar to his team-mates in militant fashion, urging them to get back to the changing room for conversations that would likely be of a similar nature.
For a while, whatever was said at half time seemed to work. Wales did just about lift themselves out of the doldrums long enough to hit the front. But there was still a frustration bubbling underneath.
"What was that?" bemoaned Biggar after Wales wasted a turnover with a poor pass which led to a knock-on. When Jones, on the latest of his milestones, was replaced after the hour mark, all he could do to acknowledge the ovation between his own angst was the slightest hint of movement in his right hand that might well have been a wave.
Perhaps it was Adams, the man who would ultimately lead Wales' fruitless charge-down chase at the death, who cut a frustrated lone figure the most. Few seem as representative of the ordinary supporter as Adams, who, stood out on the left flank, often becomes a vessel for the emotions of the fans through his own reactions. When he managed to corner-flag Monty Ioane, saving Wales from a certain try, his beleaguered face told its own picture.
So, too, the furious gestures when the ball didn't come his way after one particularly dominant Welsh scrum. On that occasion, it was Owen Watkin who bore the brunt of the shouting. It wasn't necessarily Watkin's decision, but it was clearly important he heard.
When Adams next raised his arms in frustration, the man in earshot, Moriarty on this occasion, made sure there was no repeat of the barrage of screams. When the replacement back-row got the ball, he immediately shipped it on to Adams with a long, looping miss-pass. The winger did the rest, dancing through weak tackles to put Wales back in a wining position. That seemed to be enough, until it wasn't. Because then, of course, it happened. And suddenly, Cardiff, and all those in red jerseys, were still.
