WWC Fan Diary: A legend is born

You can't choose your legends in football. The who, where and when can all be change in an instant by factors outside the control of fans, coaches and even the players themselves.

It's a simple fact that makes the game so wonderful. It can turn the 16th of November into more than just the 320th day of the year, it can make a town of less than 100,000 people in South West Germany a sight of an eternal memory and it can make a French speaking enclave just south of Newfoundland a place of dreams.

I have no doubt that the city of Moncton will forever live on in the minds of football fans in Australia as the sight of one of our great modern triumphs at any level, of any gender.

It might well be our only connection with this quaint little city located on the Bay of Fundy in Canada's New Brunswick province which sits just above the US state of Maine. It's a city born of a turbulent past as home to the Francophone Acadian community who were violently expelled from New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and surrounding provinces in the late 18th century, a fact I found out during a lovely tour of the local museum.

Getting there wasn't easy however. Some braved the exorbitant ticket prices and the five and a half (plus layover) travel time from Edmonton, some stayed back in Alberta hoping for a victory, one brave family drove for four days cross country whilst I took the scenic route via a lazy 18 hour train trip from Montreal.

Zooming past the gorgeous rivers of rural Quebec, through the dense forests and marshes of New Brunswick, the only moment of any worry was a half hour outside Quebec City at 11pm when we started moving backwards for a kilometre or so.

Then it was match day.

The customary beers before heading to wave off the girls as they hopped on the bus greeted our day with only a brief appearance from the sun which struggled to break through the clouds in a manner not dissimilar to Formiga and Lydia Williams.

Then, as we settled on the camera side of Moncton's boutique college stadium with temporary seating at either end, the rains hit. This was not some slight drizzle acting like a cloud of irritating flies, this was rain with a vengeance. A vengeance I copped in its full force due to my interesting decision to not bring a jacket.

By full time though, it mattered not. We had gone out there in a brutal Atlantic wind and beaten Brazil. The first ever victory for a senior national team in a World Cup knockout match. Against Brazil. Australia beat Brazil at a World Cup and nothing will ever be able to change that. How good?

Until next time, Allez Matildas!