They held onto anything they could; their shirt collars; their scarves; even their fellow human beings. Their hearts were pounding, the adrenalin rushing through their bodies like the wind upon a windmill. They looked on nervously. This man, who’d been to the World Cup in South Africa with Brazil, was stepping up. He looked confident, but the stadium prayed and hoped; hoped that his trusted left foot would this time let him down; so that the dream may be complete.
European nights always produce something special, and this night was no different. After all, the planet’s greatest player, Lionel Messi, wasContinue reading “The stuff that dreams are made of”