They say that you could hear the cheers from Pirates clear to the other side of Parkhurst last Saturday. A deafening, wordless, symphony of celebration that charged down Fourth Avenue, past the Jolly Roger, where it picked up volume, and through the streets of the suburb.

It said nothing and everything. It was relief and disbelief, pride and wonder, belief and realisation in an extended wave of noise that is still lapping on the shores of the hearts of this beautiful, befuddled nation.

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