Pandemonium.
Sardine bones. Little frilly complex things that stick in your gums. Lisbon is in sardine season now. The unpretentious oily little fish is the symbol of summer here. Little grills sit on pavement edges wafting out the familiar aroma. It is the sight and the smell of summer in Portugal. The most unobtrusive little fish, the sardine. I can smell them now but my focus is on the television, which is wobbling as a clutch of bodies pass and pass again leaping and yelling. We were supposed to be having sardines, I keep thinking. My heart is leaping, everyone shrieking and shouting, a din arising outside. Something weird is happening. The world is turning upside down and they’ve not served the sardines. This can’t be happening. Not here, not to Portugal.
Portugal’s players were understandably euphoric after making history by beating France in Paris tonight to become Euro 2016 champions.
Euro 2016 final: France 0-1 Portugal (after extra time)
To lift the 2016 European Championship Portugal not only have to beat France. They have to beat the weight of history. 