Chronicles

It’s match day and the city’s centre of gravity shifts to the Antas area. “Porto are playing today” replaces the usual “good morning” in the cafés first thing in the morning. Strangers chat across the tables, the staff join in the conversation, and likely starting line-ups are discussed, with the newspaper spread out and a glass of milk by their side.

At the Estádio do Dragão, the party starts early, well before the kick-off. Families gather in the vicinity, whether to have their photo taken with the mascots Draco and Vienna, or to have their faces painted. Everyone wants to dress the part, showing off the current season’s shirt or the one handed down from their grandparents, which serves as a lucky charm at every match. You can see the number 2 on many of them. After all, Jorge Costa, the eternal captain, will never be forgotten.

People come from all corners of the country, filling the Metro, which on match days turns into a sea of Porto fans. They flock to the Dragão’s lair to take part in a ritual that not even the heaviest rain can deter. It seems that an unshakeable faith in victory is the antidote to any inclement weather.

The closer it gets to kick-off, the more packed the carriages become, but there’s always room for one more fan. You often hear someone say, “Hold on to me,” to support those who need it. And when the “Estádio do Dragão” announcement finally sounds over the Metro loudspeakers and the doors open, a blue-and-white torrent pours out of the station, rushing towards their seats in the stadium. It’s well known that entering the stadium without hearing the anthem brings bad luck, so it’s time to hurry!

The next 90 minutes are a whirlwind of emotions. Hearts race from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds; neighbours argue over whether or not it’s a foul, they cheer, they whistle, they fall silent when danger looms, but the moment the ball hits the back of the net, a roar erupts: GOOOOOOOOOAL. And on VCI the cars shake, in Corujeira the birds take flight.

“*Porto Porto Porto, you are our Glory, Grant us on this day, Another joy, Another Victory!*”. Maria Amélia Canossa’s march signals the start of the journey home. Some stop off at the Portas de São Roque restaurant next door for a bite to eat—a pork sandwich—and to warm up with some caldo verde or sarrabulho porridge. Others head straight for the Metro, stepping in with broad smiles, even when the carriages are packed tight. If anyone moves a bit too abruptly, the cry goes up straight away: “Take it easy, we’re all Porto fans!”

At every stop, those getting off say goodbye to those continuing on their way. In that final wave, the certainty that needs no voicing: come what may, “if Porto are playing today”, the blue-and-white family will be reunited once more.