Rugby league fans had been salivating over what might transpire at Western Sydney Stadium on November 1 for months.
It was the first fixture of the World Cup to sell out weeks ago.
Everyone was hyping it up as the moment we would see this tournament catch fire and the international men's game ascend to higher levels than ever seen before.
And that all transpired, except it came a game early.
There was a triple header here, the Jillaroos against Wales, followed by Lebanon and France, to whet the appetite before the main event of Tonga and Samoa.
What no-one anticipated was that Lebanon and France, two minnows who were already well out of contention for the semifinals, would dish up what is roundly being called one of the greatest finishes in the international game.
One that has proven that just because this sport does a World Cup a little differently from the rest, it doesn't diminish its meaning.
Tradies' time to shine
The vast majority of players spread through the teams in this tournament were born in Australia or New Zealand, choosing to represent the country of their heritage.
The French are a rare exception, and after humbling defeats in their first two pool games, they were the underdogs against a Lebanese squad almost entirely consisting of Australian-born players.
But this was no mismatch.
Trailing by two late, France was denied a match-winning try when Lebanon just grounded the ball in the in-goal.
France's Arthur Mourgue then kicked a two-point field goal to send it to golden point shortly after, and in the first period of extra time, Cesar Rouge slotted a one-pointer.
The scenes were beautiful, joyous, crushing, devastating, a chaotic melting pot of emotions savoured by the growing crowd of largely Tongan and Samoan fans.
But it was disallowed for an escort. And so it went on.
The Cedars' Alex Conti missed a long-range penalty goal, which was collected by Mourgue.
He should've held onto it. A more experienced player under this sort of pressure would've taken the tackle, and the quick breather.
But he went for glory, a chip and chase that could've been his crowning glory.
Instead it became his never-ending nightmare.
Abbas Miski gleefully grabbed the goodies, and strolled the short distance to unleash mayhem unlike anything else we've seen at this tournament so far.
Most of the 30,000 tickets for this game were snapped up by Tongan and Samoan fans.
But a healthy contingent of Sydney's huge Lebanese diaspora turned up, and they were in a heady delirium, as the players danced dazed but delighted, alongside Lebanese drummers on the sidelines.
"It was the saddest I've been this whole tournament and then the happiest I've been this whole tournament. I don't even know what to feel," Lebanon captain Alex Twal told Channel 7.
"We've got plumbers, electricians, foreman, builders … these blokes came here just to have a crack and they're playing against some of the best in the world.
"Abbas, he's a winger, he's never played back row. For him to come up with a play like that, it's true Lebanese spirit.
"I've got goosebumps. I love being Lebanese."
Twal was born a stone's throw from this stadium at Westmead. He played his junior footy for the Parramatta City Titans and his entire NRL career has been with Wests Tigers.
Born and raised in Australia, he has a Jordanian father and Lebanese mother.
It is a story similar for so many children of migrants in Australia. An identity that is multidimensional, not having to remain in one neat box, but able to feel connection to many places, roots spread near and far.
And so often sport is the powerful vehicle that helps drive that message home.
That is why even though this game was a dead rubber, a result that ostensibly wouldn't change the world, it still meant something more than footy.
Because for people who have sometimes felt like they're between worlds, between cultures, there is somewhere they belong.
The hundreds of Lebanese fans who sang and marched to the beat of their traditional drums to the stadium today felt it, and no doubt many more in Australia's sizeable Lebanese community.
This may be the end of the line for the Cedars, in the short term at least.
They are ineligible for future tournaments having been downgraded to an affiliate member by the International Rugby League.
Meaning, for now, their greatest World Cup moment may very well be their last.
And the French must take heart from showing fight till the very end.
They were a team always up against it when facing players who have had league in their blood from birth.
And there will be hope they can try to inspire some sort of renaissance in the sport in the Northern Hemisphere, where it is currently on life support.
But rising from the ashes is what rugby league does best.
