Neymar didn’t just dribble—he wrote sonnets with his left foot while the defense was busy meditating. Botafogo’s 3-1 win? More like a haiku written in sweat. I saw goals… but I felt the rhythm of futebol. Was that a pass or a protest against analytics? Either way: poetry wins when numbers lie. What did you see? That they didn’t? Subscribe to my weekly Echoes from Maracanã—because even the whistle knows more than the scoreboard.