Much has been said and written about Portugal over the course of the Euro 2016, by the international press in general and the French in particular.
We are the dark horse, the underdogs, the fucking pebble in your pretentiously over expensive shoe.
We are the construction workers and the cleaning ladies. In spite of having university degrees, we possess no knowledge of any kind. Illiteracy at its best here, come take a picture! We are extremely “dégueulasse” and incredibly untalented, which must be the reason why we have nothing worth mentioning, because that’s obviously what we deserve. Nothing, nada, niente, zilch, zero.
We are where we are by the works of nothing less than… a miracle! After all, we have her on our side.
We are weak. We stand absolutely no chance. So why not just skip the match entirely and proceed straight to the award ceremony? Why waste any more precious time and energy if it’s already set in stone? Baffling, to say the least.
We have “too much hope”, they derogatorily say. But what is a man without it? It’s in our DNA. Our flag itself represents hope and that’s what we will do. Against all odds. Yes, I’m not sorry to say that we will foolishly keep on hoping, even when all hope is lost.
Tomorrow, we will yell at the TV. We will curse, a lot. We will most likely insult everyone and their mother, including ourselves. But in the end, our unity will prevail, our love won’t flinch, our pride won’t diminish. No matter the outcome. Because, yes, we are indeed prepared to lose. We hope for the best, but expect the worst. And we know better than to take things for granted. So let us be, let us try, let us fight, let us believe, let us… (yes, you guessed it) HOPE! And if we lose, “que se foda!”
When you come back, please come back home as heroes
And while you’re gone, we’ll sing this song for you
And we will share the pain and share the glory
So come back home as heroes
And make us heroes, too.