A whole nation

A whole city.

They stand before you at your feet. You stand before them at their mercy. Your stage tiny before a blanket mass on the green Arnarhóll. Is there a difference? No, not really. You have done each other proud. You are unison in a salute.

First the anticipation; you all want it and it will come, but save the best until last. There are the speeches, the thank you from one to another. the fans, the President and the Prime Minister, the microphone is passed around like the Olympic torch. The presentation of every single player and the coaches and the cheer for every single one of them. Everyone in the capital city had to be here, they just had to be. You did them proud. And you followed them to the stadiums in your thousands from a small land. You were both gigantic. So the salute is even more fitting to finish. To show the effect it has had on all of Europe in a week when the European Union was shaken and divided in the face of Brexit.

Stand firm, look each other in the eye. Hold your arms high and wide. Feel that intensity start to build. All of you, enjoy the silence, just for a moment, wait for it with baited breath, for it is about to come. Like Neo and Morpheus waiting for the telephone to ring in Matrix, as soon as you hear that bass drum, you are in.

Boom, boom, clap (huh!)

Just once. Now again, stand firm, wait for the next double beat. The camera sweeps over the silence of the Arnarhóll, only a small baby can be heard, maybe a pin drop. This is a tribute, but nobody has died. Keep your arms high and wide. Then again:

Boom, boom, clap (huh!)

Like waiting the few seconds for the crack of thunder after sheet lightening, though there is no darkness here, there are only whispy clouds in the background, as if being blown away with every huh! The sky is glorious blue to match the day, to match the blue and white strip in which you did your country proud. It is a glorious thunder clap, like a muggy day has been blown away to leave the warm but fresh morning air of summer. If it was at night your salute would be summoning the aurora borealis in all its splendour.

Boom, boom, clap (huh!)

What has become of this nation? It has defied expectation, it has stood firm, it has dreamed and still hasn't woken up. Dare you dream? Oh hell yeah! Actually, what's so daring about dreaming? It should be an obligation, it is something so natural as any other emotion known to human kind, anything can start from a dream.You have all worked hard and believed in what you do with a passion and steely stance, just like you do to each other now, you show respect to those who merit, who have fought and cheered for each other, and at the end of every match you merge in to one as players make their way over to the fans.

Boom, boom, clap (huh!)

It is almost intimidating, like the All Blacks haka, a war cry, but today it has culminated in a celebration. You are there to celebrate. It is a day of happiness.

 Boom, boom, clap (huh!) Boom, boom, clap (huh!)

The train chugs, it is building steam, gradually getting faster, steadily building.

Boom, boom, clap (huh!) Boom, boom, clap (huh!) Boom, boom, clap (huh!) Boom, boom, clap (huh!)

Then the claps dissolve in to one rapturous, unanimous applause, whistles, a cheer from the people, a cheer of a nation. Not an eruption of one of your many volcanoes or the hot blast from a geyser, but from your national football team, from Strákarnir Okkar, Our Boys. Your boys have come home men.

Wales and France copied it upon their victories. France even did it with you when you lost the Quarter Final to them. A tribute, a sign of respect. But it doesn't rain true like it does with you. It is your baby.

Maybe all the speeches, all the nice words, all the tributes and every single thing I have written here will never be as fitting as a simple 'huh'. Actions speak louder than words.

A whole city. A sense of belonging, something we all need. A clear identity on and off the pitch now for all to see. A whole nation together.


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