I watched the clock tick past midnight as Walta Redonda and Avai danced through 90 minutes of quiet tension—not with noise, but with grace. A 1-1 draw wasn’t a failure; it was a symphony of resilience. Every pass felt like poetry written in blood-red moonlight. This isn’t about scores—it’s about the soul behind the stats, where fans don’t cheer for wins, but for the silent courage of those who refused to quit. I write what you didn’t see—what that goal cost you.