Don't know about you, but I'm still walking in space. As my brother (who is no stranger to profanity) put it: "Holy crap! That was a freakin' game!"

Yep.

Today's U.S.-Brazil quarterfinal match at the Women's World Cup will be replayed for years, if not decades. It was one of the most exciting, dramatic and nerve-wracking matches I've ever seen.

Perhaps the only more thrilling soccer match at a similar stage in recent memory was the 2005 Champions League final between Liverpool and A.C. Milan. Milan held a 3-0 lead at the half, and then Liverpool scored three times in a six-minute span in the second half to tie things up. Liverpool won on penalty kicks. Pretty damned exciting.

While the U.S.-Brazil match had less scoring, it was more dramatic. There was an own goal, a penalty kick (saved), a penalty kick (scored), a red card, controversial officiating and, for good measure, the latest goal ever scored in a World Cup (men's or women's).

After the referee called the penalty and red-carded Rachel Buehler, my older son Max started screaming. After Hope Solo's save of Cristiane's penalty was waved off, he burst into tears and was barely able to watch the rest of the game. After Marta's brilliant goal at the start of extra time, hope began to wane. It was all my wife and I could do to keep our sons (who have spent much of the last two weeks re-enacting every match with enthusiasm, if not exacting detail) from wailing and running away from the game. More than once, Max took a break from the couch and paced around. But he was vack on the couch for the final moments, and when Megan Rapinoe burst down the left side, I said "This looks pretty good."

Yeah, it was. And her pass was brilliant. We were on our feet even before the ball rattled the back of the net. Max, my wife and I were screaming for joy. Sam, our younger son, was standing and crying uncontrollably, completely unable to process the emotions that were literally draining from his body.

"I'm crying because I'm happy," he said in a most confused voice. Sam, who had spent most of the game telling his older brother to calm down and not be so jumpy, finally found the release for his own tension. He bawled until the start of the penalty kicks--which Max simply could not watch. Directly, at least. Our TV room is a converted side porch, and there's a window that allows the TV to be seen from our dining room. Max stayed out of view of the TV until Solo saved Daiane's kick (tough game for her; she gave up the own goal and was the only Brazilian who didn't convert on penalties). Then he watched through the window until Ali Krieger set up for the game-winner. That one he watched from the couch.

The penalties, though, were anti-climactic. It was Wambach's monstrous header with no time left that was the emotional punch of the game. I'll be honest, I don't know if a single moment in sports has ever hit me quite so furiously. Probably not. The Royals won Game 7 of the 1985 World Series 11-0. Not much excitement there. Missouri's biggest moments (in my memory) were a 14-point loss to Oklahoma in the 2008 Big 12 (football) Championship game and not-exactly-close losses in NCAA basketball regional finals to Arizona and UConn. Yeah, the 1999 World Cup final was exciting, but penalty kicks aren't nearly as exciting as goals.

Before Wambach pounded the ball into the net in the 122nd minute, the goal of the tournament was Marta's no-angle, tip-of-the-toe goal at the start of extra time. It's rare that two great teams actually play a great game against each other. It's even more rare when a fan can honestly say that penalties were the most appropriate way to settle a match.

Most rare, though, is that moment of untrammeled joy that only possible after enduring a long period of hoping, waiting and true suffering. My son Sam was crying tears of joy, but his emotions were so strong and unexpected that their instant flood frightened him nearly to death. His weren't the "dab my eyes" sort of tears. He looked more like Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween. But he was happy, and I have a feeling that he'll remember the game (if not his drenching catharsis) for a long time.

Where was I when Abby Wambach headed home Megan Rapinoe's brilliant service? About two inches from the ceiling in my TV room. And I'm not sure I've come down yet.

Jon Worley has never scored a last-second, game-winning goal, though both of his sons have.