5am, around the Rommel Fernández Stadium. An unusual encounter on the Vía España for a Sunday before dawn. On the one hand there are those who got up early, gathered in groups of friends and families; on the other night owls who come from nightclubs and bars celebrating their Panamanian Saturday night fever, as a preamble to a historic event: the confrontation of the “Sele” with the inventors of football – the English.
6am, dawn in Panama and the stadium’s parking lot begins to fill to the sound of the Dianas, a tribute to the homeland that combines military rigidity and popular music. Street vendors rush to sell breakfast: hojaldras, carimañolas or tortillas, which they deliver to their customers in napkins and paper bags. The time is approaching.
7am, the referee’s whistle. The game starts, Panamanians shout, the grey sky threatens rain. Go Panama!
The dream of repeating the goalless first half against Belgium lasts eight minutes. The English navy, led by Kane, Stones and Lingard, guns the Panamanian goal six times, proving that their gunpowder is still as powerful as Henry Morgan’s in 1671.
As if that were not enough, at the 20-minute mark a torrential and early rain, typical of the winter season, threatens to end the party. But far from dampening the spirits of the local fans, it excites them, as if it were the carnival culecos that hose revellers with water.
Half-time arrives. There are sore throats from shouting for Panama, despite the score. Russia is felt here. The country is breathing and sweating its first World Cup.
The Sele improve in the second half and England, secure in their superiority, allow the Panamanian players to enjoy their football. The fans cheer again, the Dianas sound. It is eight o’clock in the morning but beer is being drunk as if it were eight o’clock at night. Today is going to be a long day for many and tomorrow we have to work.
Minute 78. Panama make history. The whole country explodes in a shared cry. Beer flies through the air in the Rommel Fernández Stadium parking lot. Several thousand people jump, celebrate, kiss and hug while Felipe Baloy’s goal is repeated over and over again on a giant screen.
They have just forgotten in a stroke the six England goals. The score in the hearts of the Panamanians is 1-0 to La Marea Roja. Baloy is the new hero.
Messages on WhatsApp begin to arrive, together with memes and videos. Panamanians celebrate wherever they are: in Russia, in Rommel Fernández, in Taberna 21, on the beach, in bed. This morning even the most fanatical baseball fans in Panama wear red.
The final whistle. A red tide of people head home, happy, satisfied. Panama has fulfilled its role, has stood up to Belgium and scored against England. The next dream? To score against Tunisia, even if it is a penalty in the 90th minute.
Paris is well worth a mass and Nizhny Novgorod was well worth an early morning. Go Panama!