It was just another win, but somehow also not. They celebrated as if they had won the title, jumping, singing, high-fiving. Crowding round the mildly sinister (it’s the blue moustache) cartoon fox for photos. Tipping buckets of iced water over one another.
The crowd, too, went ice-cream-in-winter crazy. It would be their last glimpse of their champions in their natural habitat until the new year. The party, it seemed safe to assume, would last well into the night.
Let when a trophy was lifted, it was only the home-made-souvenir type. For fate had conspired against them, if only gently. Read the rest of this article on Cruzeiro's slightly premature but entirely deserved title celebrations here.