Four grueling weeks are behind us. The heat, the humidity, the torrential rain, it all culminates in Cidade Maravilhosa, the Marvelous City. Rio de Janeiro is living up to its moniker on this beautiful Sunday afternoon in July. It was all mapped out for everybody to see, for the whole country to rejoice in the midst of an economic crisis. The home team, the people’s heroes, on the verge of becoming living legends, destined to bring it back home, the ultimate prize: the World Cup.

Yet here we are, an entire country still in disbelief of what transpired a few days earlier. The biggest party in the world came to a crashing halt when their team was simply overmatched for a full 90 minutes by a squad so thorough and efficient, a defeat so humiliating that it will never be forgotten by anybody who saw it with their own eyes.

Now the stage is set, and it is the biggest of them all: two football powerhouses square off in the World Cup final. Football legacies are on the line, history will be made, people will never forget where they were and what they did on that day. And it all happens in the most legendary places of them all, the Maracana in Rio de Janeiro.

Your place is on the sideline, in front of a capacity crowd. There is nothing else you can do now other than hope, pray, bite your nails. Or is there? Determined to face destiny, you know that your decisions on this day will change the fortunes not only of football teams but of entire countries for years to come. You are holding your fate and the one of your homeland in your hands. This is your story.

Legends write their own stories.