A little late, I know, but during the dying moments of the Group of 16 matchup I took my little radio up to the top of the building and sprawled out on the terrace. Television transmits with a delay, and HD is even worse. I wanted to be the first to know what was happening. Radio antenna pointed up towards Cristo for maximum signal.
First the little radio bellows. Then the neighbors throw open their windows. Then the valley from Santa Teresa to Corcovado goes absolutely nuts. The hills sprout fireworks. The shirtless dudes on top of a nearby penthouse jump dripping from their pool and rattle the railings with glee. It ripples out and grows and grows.
0:40 – Neymar’s GOL on the radio
0:41 – 0:55 – flurries of honks and steadily rising bellows
1:30 – NA TRAVE! Jara’s ball bounces off the post
1:32 – the ball bounces off the post on my neighbors’ TVs
1:35 – my neighbors’ neighbors’ neighbors start to scream
1:36-on – insanity, shots being fired, possibly joyful fatalities
It took a while to get to sleep that night. Every far-off sound seemed as if another corner of the city had just gotten wind of the news and was setting off fireworks of its own, belated but ecstatic.