Neil Humphreys: Give us mad finale for maddest season
Why the EPL title race must end with the biggest of bangs
Here's why nothing makes sense in football any more.
Vincent Kompany finds space for Manchester City, takes a touch and then decides to do something that his brain has specifically instructed him not to do since 2013. He hits a shot from outside the box.
Only he doesn't just hit a shot. He steals a storyline from a comic book. He scores the goal of his life.
It doesn't make sense.
In relative terms, Trent Alexander-Arnold is still a boy. In the rear-view mirror, the 20-year-old can still see puberty. But ahead of him, he can see Divock Origi.
No one else can, only the kid from Liverpool. So he whips over a corner and Origi clips a smart finish high into the net.
Anfield dissolves into tears. The Reds overcome a three-goal deficit against Barcelona, the finest team of our generation, led by an alien who is only an Infinity Gauntlet away from controlling the universe.
It doesn't make sense.
In Amsterdam, Tottenham Hotspur are losing 3-0 on aggregate against Ajax. It's over. They have run out of Champions League miracles.
They have already come back from the dead more times than Jon Snow - four times in fact, against PSV Eindhoven, Inter Milan, Barcelona and Manchester City.
There are no heroes left. There is only Lucas Moura.
For 45 ineffectual minutes, the Brazilian has justified his manager's underlying lack of faith.
So Mauricio Pochettino moves him to the right, further away from goal in a literal sense and Moura scores, not once, not twice, but three times.
The two greatest comebacks in Champions League history are separated by just 24 hours.
It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense on a pitch right now.
And it's glorious, truly bafflingly glorious, a reminder of why this game can intoxicate like no other and why the maddest of seasons deserves a fittingly bonkers finale.
No other outcome will suffice now.
Liverpool and Manchester City no longer have a choice.
The Lewis Carroll-like narrative of exhilarating nonsense has already overtaken them.
This week alone has pulled us Through The Looking Glass into the vivid dreamscapes of Manchester, Liverpool and Amsterdam.
We're all wandering around in a football wonderland, happily dazed and confused and with no intention of leaving until Sunday night at the earliest (and preferably not until the Champions League final).
The final day demands a Mad Hatter's tea party of implausible plot twists and characters and the maddest of them all, Juergen Klopp, and his saner competitor, Pep Guardiola are duty-bound to deliver.
After the week we've just had, the thought of City and Liverpool churning out 1-0 victories and ending the party with the dampest of squibs is unacceptable, like sitting through 22 Marvel movies only to watch Iron Man and Thanos settle their battle with a game of Scrabble.
And that's been the overwhelming triumph this week.
The heart ruled the head. Nothing made sense, but we ran with it anyway, like giddy school kids chasing after clowns at a circus.
Nothing computed. Nothing scanned. There were too many illogical questions with no logical answers.
Where did Kompany's shot come from? Where were Barcelona's defenders?
Why didn't Ajax even pretend to defend? When did Moura become a reliable finisher?
How can two teams have 95 and 94 points ahead of the final day of the EPL season?
But these are rational musings for another day, a more boring day.
Right now, we're caught up in an irrational moment, a moment that crystallises our hopeless addiction to an exasperating sport, a moment that silences those insufferable non-believers who drone on about football being ''just a game'' when it clearly, definitively, isn't.
Like buses in a rainy rush hour, we wait in frustration for these moments and then three come at once.
Whatever happens on Sunday, we'll always have Kompany and the Liverpool and Tottenham comebacks to add to our ''do you remember when'' memory banks, stories to recall when the game isn't this good.
So it's greedy to ask for another one. Of course it is.
To ask for a madcap title decider after the week that we've had smacks of avarice, but that's what addicts do.
We're all Oliver Twist, holding up our TV remote controls and demanding more.
As Liverpool host Wolverhampton Wanderers and Manchester City head to Brighton & Hove Albion, there's every chance that the title challengers will both pick up routine wins.
But that's rational thinking, and rational thinking vanished when Kompany took aim and hasn't been seen since.
Nothing makes sense in football any more and we'd like to keep it that way - for just one more night.