The Coffee Rush

Along with the simultaneous cheering of the entire stadium, following every name, the speakers blurted:

“No.1 Danilo”

“No.60 Caramelo”

“No.27 Thiego”

“No.4 Neto”

“No.6 Dener”

“No.11 Ananias”

“No.8 Gil”

“No.5 Josimar”

“No.88 Santana”

“No.94 Tiago Vieira”

“No.33 Kempes”

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11 men stood across the field. Some with a hand on the shoulder of the one standing next to him, some on the back, and some with the palm resting on the round crest reading out ACF in the centre, 1973 below it and Associacao Chapecoense De Futebol forming a halo around the two.

11 men, dressed in armours as lush a green as the battleground they had kissed before stepping on to it.

Young Claudio , dressed in the same green, from head to toe, sitting on his father’s shoulders, held a scarf above his head, with his thoughts sewn across it. VAMOS CHAPE.

He had seen it all this…

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