How does one count time in rugby? The simple measure of seconds and minutes? The aficionado's choice of phases and sets? What about Mexican waves?
With Wales under the cosh in the second half after another needless spate of penalties, albeit with the scoreboard firmly on their side at 17-6, Tomos Williams delivered the ball to Rhys Priestland on his own line just as the first round of raised arms snaked around the stadium.
By the time it reached the press box the first time, Priestland was clearing his lines. By the time it ambled around in slightly more chaotic and disconnected fashion, Priestland was kicking Wales to a 20-6 lead from the tee.
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In that period of five Mexican waves, Wales had cleared it from their 22, been gifted a lineout by Juan Cruz Mallia's skewed kick, gone through some phases in midfield and were handed a penalty. Only Priestland's three points finally put the fractured wave to bed.
Minutes later, flashlights shone out from a countless number of phones in the crowd. If the Welsh Rugby Union make more of their money from concerts than almost anything else, then at least the two crowds are converging a little.
Regardless of that, the feeling in the crowd was clear: Wales were in control of this one and heading to a much-needed victory: a victory which might not exactly capture the attention of the 60,000-odd fans in the stadium, but one which would certainly restore some pride for those in red jerseys.
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From the first minute to the last, that was the recurring theme: it wasn't always pretty, nor was it perfect, but it was resolute. A threat that this wouldn't be the case loomed early on, with Wales taking defence coach Gethin Jenkins' suggestion about taking more risks when it came to discipline too literally. Within 12 minutes, they had conceded a handful of penalties and were on a yellow card warning.
Not all infringements are born equal and Ken Owens certainly took umbrage with one or two. "You do your job, I'll do mine," was the swift response from referee Ben O'Keefe.
With that warning, Wales tidied up their discipline as Argentina's slid. "Another one and it'll be the same as Wales," stated O'Keefe after a pair of Argentinian offsides. "A warning. Discipline, discipline."
After Owens was tackled off the ball, allowing Gareth Anscombe to extend Wales' lead, the hooker still found time to appreciate the hit to O'Keefe: "Decent tackle, though."
As the match wore on, Wales' resilience grew as they continued to keep Michael Cheika's side at bay. Even when down to 14 after Will Rowlands' yellow card, the defence was still being carried by personal pride.
Cries of "keep them out" and "get off" echoed around the fringes of the breakdown from one phase to the next. "Beardy, Beardy!" cried one Welsh voice as Argentina switched the point of attack to the other side of the ruck. With that, up stepped Adam Beard, getting in the eyeline of the Argentine attacker just enough to force a knock-on. On his knees, captain Justin Tipuric strode over to reward the action with a pat on Beard's head.
That all led to that passage of time where the stadium felt like the result was assured, sliding towards scenes usually reserved for Ed Sheeran concerts. But that soon stopped as Argentina forced their way back into it with a try from a rolling maul. George North appeared to take that score, and Argentina's celebrations afterwards, as a personal affront. "Hey, hey, hey, stop," cried O'Keefe as the centre waded in for a quiet word with the Los Pumas pack: "13, 13, thank you."
A seven-point game with 10 minutes to go. How many Argentine phases would Wales have to defend in that time? How many sets? How many Mexican waves?
None of the latter, as it turned out. By now, the crowd were on edge with this late jeopardy. Having shown resolve for so long, Wales needed to now find some more.
There was replacement hooker Ryan Elias, on for injured second-row Rowlands and packing down in the scrum, seeking the advice of his team-mates as he pointed and gesticulated wildly on how to adjust to life further back in the pack.
There was North forcing an Argentinian ball-carrier into touch with 90 seconds left. No pushing and shoving this time, instead just a wry, knowing smile before offering a hand to pick his opponent up. The job was almost done.
And when it was done, deep down in the bowels of the stadium, a steward outside the press room loudly bellowed out in the corridor: "Hey, a win is a win."
Indeed it is. Not perfect, not pretty, but enough for now.
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