Is there anything better than game day morning? Even the sun rises over the shimmering Atlantic with a sense of anticipation. Now, in the calm before the screaming horns and beating drums, before the sweat and tears, anything is possible. History will be written today, but on game day morning her parchment is still blank.
Germany, in typical meticulous fashion, have constructed a purpose-built training camp 300 miles down the coast from here. Team J00ster, not to be outdone, commandeers the boutique Pousada Encanto de Itapoan hotel for their own preparations. Now for the first time, here's an exclusive peek inside their high performance compound. Nothing clears the lactic acid out of the legs like a spin on a hipster one-speed.
These photos are for the idiots at FIFA who voted for Qatar 2022. Notice how it's possible to walk outside without dying of heat exhaustion. But hey, don't sweat it, those bribes in your pocket will buy you a nice cold beverage and a luxurious air conditioned suite.
Salvador is unique among the host cities in that the stadium is only a short walk from the heart of the old town. No prizes for guessing where 60,000 amped up fans are going to be pre-gaming.
The Red Devils of Belgium have plenty of swagger to go with their raucous football chants. If you had to scout your opposition by watching Major League Soccer tapes, you'd be feeling good about your chances too
But hark, what's that I hear? An upstart chant is welling up from the bars and cafes of the old town. It gathers momentum as it roars out into the square, a tidal wave of emotion that dares to defy the Olde world order. U-S-A! U-S-A!
Time for a quick crash course in football 101. No, Tom Brady's not a striker. Yes, he gets all the chicks, but that doesn't make him a striker. No, Ronaldo's not a quarterback and no, that lightning bolt in his hair has nothing to do with Harry Potter. On second thought, I think we'll leave the offside rule for another day.
Let's face it, we may not have the best team, but we've definitely got the best uniforms.
It's not every day you can assemble elite talent from legendary teams like Houston Dynamo and Wuhan Zall F.C. in one place. The after-game nightclub isn't going to know what hit it.
There are fans, and then there are football fans. In earth-shattering fashion the Red, White, and Blues fall into step for a march to destiny. Or maybe word got out that Budweiser is the official beer sponsor of the World Cup.
If you thought a Stanley Cup Finals game at Madison Square Garden is as big as it gets in sports, you'd be right. But only because this isn't sports, this is something bigger.
If you're not fired up for the game now, you're probably from Brussels.
Even the locals are jumping on the bandwagon. A wise choice: always back the side whose bandwagon isn't so much a wagon as it is as Nimitz-class supercarrier. Especially when the other guy's wagon serves waffles and dinges outside the Tintin shop.
Thank goodness FIFA authorized drink breaks at the 30 minute mark.
So much for the promises of tight security. It seems they'll let anyone past the security cordon.
The adrenalin is pumping and the Skol is flowing as the red, white, and blue procession arrives in the shadow of Arena Fonte Nova. It's All In or Nothing time or time to Risk Everything, depending on whose footwear you've got on. Either way, you get the picture. It's time for Belgium fries.
This way to the nose bleed seats.
Let's bring it in team! We're going go out there hard for 90 minutes, this is where all those hours of training are going to pay off. I want total focus out there. We've earned this, let's go out there and take what's ours! Remember all those late night dive bars, all those beer gardens, all those wine tastings, well this is where it all pays off! This is our night! This is our time! All together now! Scull! Skol! Scull!
For all the horror stories about half-built stadiums, crippling traffic delays, and angry riots the stadium is actually a magnificent venue. A fitting coliseum for the battle about to unfold.
As the crowd filters in it becomes readily apparent that this is going to be close to a U.S. home game. The stars and stripes outnumber whatever you call their black, yellow, and red getup at least 10 to 1.
We have no offence, no defense, but we do have Tim Howard. Should be a comfortable victory.
Hey old timer on the left there, rotate your flag 90 degrees clockwise and you might suddenly find you have a decent team.
Nothing intimidates a chic European striker like a genuine North American Playoff Beard (tm). Yeah we're talking about you Ronaldo. See a Playoff Beard requires two important ingredients. First, you have to make the playoffs. Oops. Second, you have to be man enough to grow a beard. Hard to see that happening while you're writhing around on the ground waiting for the stretcher.
Shall we drink every time a goal is scored? That's a recipe for sobriety. How about for every foul? Should be plastered by the 15 minute mark.
Game on! A titanic battle is locked at 0-0 after 90 minutes of unbelievable tension. Belgium are clearly the better team, but a better team doesn't mean anything if you've got Tim Howard blocking the net. Never in the illustrious history of the tournament have so many saves been made.
Alas even the mightiest wall will eventually crack under unrelenting assault. In a wild 30 minutes of extra time Belgium strikes twice to seemingly put the game away, only for Team U.S.A. to pull one back at the death, setting up a desperate final push for an elusive equalizer.
A rousing effort by the boys in red, white, and blue ends in a gallant defeat at the hands of the vastly more experienced Belgians. But watch out old guard, the gap is narrowing and all it's going to take is a couple of wide receivers growing up kicking a football instead of catching it. Bring on 2018!
What happens behind face paint stays behind face paint. This is Brazil folks, and no one knows how to run an afterparty like they do.
This is why you build stadiums in the city center instead of, say, the middle of New Jersey swampland.
The Australians haven't had much to celebrate since Cahill's magnificent strike all those games ago. But that's ok, it could be worse, you could have Wayne Rooney on your team.
Where's Gisele when it's selfie time?
If you really want to get the chicks, I hear beards are all the rage around here.
Looks like the party is going into extra time too.
That doesn't appear to be the correct tri-cornered flag-folding technique.
Pelourinho square is transformed into a whirling fusion of national colors as the revelers spill out into the streets where vendors are flogging ice cold Skol for 5 reais. That's like 2 bucks folks. The secret to the Brazilian party spirit is finally revealed.
In case anyone doubts that the World Cup brings nations together, even bitter enemies for 120 minutes can exchange paint sticks after the game.
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