When Samoa is happening all around you it feels as though the sky can crack open, and that can happen anywhere Samoans are together.
It will happen this weekend before Sunday's Pacific Championship final against New Zealand, when the people will convene as far away as one Samoan can travel and find a compatriot and a joyful column of colour and noise will sound out, before and during and after the game.
Wherever it goes down, these parades have become a tradition in real time and it's a thing to see.
Odds are you’ve caught a glimpse already, maybe via a flag strapped to the top of a car, a jersey or a hat out in the wild or — where it happened loudest of all two weeks ago — at a packed Lang Park to see the Toa face their eternal rivals from Tonga.
The sky really did crack open that day, with a storm delaying the final quarter of the match for more than an hour and a half. Given how much of the crowd stayed to the finish, nobody seemed to mind all that much.
For a full hour beforehand and in the final 20 minutes, when Samoa put the finishing touches on a 34-6 smash-up that proved yet again that rugby league has absolute dynamite on its hands in the Pacific, there was too much living to do to worry about some wind, rain and hail.
It was far from the islands, but that doesn't mean it was far from Samoa.
It's a people as much as a place and it can be found wherever the four winds blow, and the pre-match scenes under the harsh Brisbane sun — which were as anticipated as the game itself — were proof enough of that.
Samoa began with their Siva Tau and Tonga replied with the Sipi Tau and both sides called on the strength of the past to help forge a new future.
They have done them so many times now – sometimes together, sometimes in turns – and it always transforms the air into fire and it and never, ever misses. But never before had they issued the call to arms in front of a crowd like this, or on such an occasion.
Long before they announced the crowd number, which is more than the 2017 World Cup final and the healthiest Test crowd on Australia soil in 11 years, it was clear this was the biggest and loudest throng to ever see these two play out the latest chapter in a history that goes back thousands of years.
Samoa kicked off and the flags were in the breeze, and there were so many that whoever is flogging them must be the richest man in Queensland.
See them wave in unison and you'll swear they start to shine, and you marvel that a people could be so proud.
'I thank God that I'm Samoan'
That pride has been on display ever since the start of the Pacific Championships everywhere Samoans tread.
A fan day with the team at a recommissioned butter factory in Logan, south of Brisbane, the week of the game against Tonga attracted around 8,000 fans.
Winning that game helped spike the numbers — around 15,000 registered to attend the fan celebration in Sydney on Tuesday at Eastern Creek.
It's hard to gauge how many of them made it, but it was plenty. It was blowing a gale, but that just makes the flags fly harder.
Junior Paulo has seen these sights more than anybody else — he is the most capped player in Samoan history and as their long-time captain, he gets so many pats on the back and claps on the shoulder even he must end up a little sore.
"This means everything. This where we belong. This is home," Paulo says.
"The passion and the pride we speak about so much, this is what it's for – to play for our people.
"It's midweek, people have jobs and school and all sorts of other commitments, but they show up for us. We need to show up for them.
"It doesn't matter if you're one per cent Samoa or full, you are from Samoa and we love our people. There's a connection that brings us all together, right now it happens through rugby league but it can happen in so many other fields as well and that makes everyone so proud."
Brian To'o is the people's favourite — there's a small, happy riot when he throws his crocs into the crowd from the stage and the bus out is delayed because he cannot say no to one more autograph, one more selfie or one more handshake.
He'd stay here all night if he could, and they would wait all night for him.
Like Paulo, he's something of an old hand at this by now but for other's it's their first taste.
Blaize Talagi debuted for Samoa on the tour to England last year, but this is his first time in the team closer to home and he cannot stop smiling.
"I'm so proud I'm able to be Samoan. This has been everything I dreamed of and more, it's so new to me and I love every moment," Talagi says.
"I've always been in touch with that Samoan side, but to see the reaction of my people when we play – I still can't believe it."
The Penrith five-eighth is one of the nation's newer stars and his partnership with Jarome Luai is a major part of why Samoa is in the final in the first place.
Once he gets near the crowd he vanishes within them.
It's not quite the same for Benaiah Ioelu, who made his Toa debut in the tournament opener against New Zealand.
The 21-year old hooker has only played 12 NRL games and he still gets the love, just not as much as some of his more decorated teammates.
Ioelu himself admits sometimes he's still a fanboy when Paulo or To'o or Luai are around but ask him what it means to not just play for Samoa but to be Samoan and you could search to the ends of the earth before finding a prouder man.
"When I told my parents the news that I would play for Samoa, you could see the tears starting to form. But they didn't show it, they just said thank you for what I was doing for our last name, for our family" Ioelu says.
"That's something I didn't really think about, but to them it meant so much so now it means a lot to me as well.
"God created me to be Samoan and I thank God that I am Samoan. I wouldn't want to be anything else.
"We're not the richest country, but we have the proudest hearts.
"This is such a privilege because the things you learn through your respect and love for one another, that is the true meaning of life."
The Tricolours rookie knows he has a lot to live up to. Any new man in this Samoan side does.
This is a team of heroes to his community and finding a consistent dummy half hasn't been easy. He's done well in his two appearances, but he is desperate to get better. Samoa is relying on him.
"A lot of people have been saying hooker is a spot we've been lacking in Samoa for a while," Ioelu says.
"When I go back to club level that's something that plays on my mind because my people need me and they need me to be at the top of my game because it's a key position."
Ioelu's Samoan heritage has always been a part of his life and to hear him speak of it is to feel its strength.
It's something he takes with him wherever he goes, and something he can share with all of the people he represents so proudly.
"It can happen anywhere. If I hear someone play a Samoan song, I'll feel connected to them," Ioelu says.
"The culture, the way we were bought up, the values we were taught as little kids, that’s what makes us connected."
The roar of Apia
That connection can happen at homes old and new but for everyone it starts, at some point, back in Samoa. And it was there in Apia just over a fortnight ago, the day before the Championship opener against New Zealand, where the first parade of the season started up.
The convoy snakes through the streets of the country's only true city – past the produce market on Fugalei Street, where people come from as far away as the other main island of Savai'I and sleep there during the week as they sell their wares.
Then the circus marches down Mulinu’u Road and past the government chambers and the Immaculate Conception cathedral, the two tallest buildings in town, and onto Beach Road alongside Apia Bay, where the sea and the sky seem to become one.
That’s where it really heats up. The convoy moves slowly but it doesn't creep because creeping happens quietly, and there is nothing quiet about it.
Apart from late-night locals haunt JP’s, where a whole weekend can pass with barely a palagi (a non-Samoan) to be seen, this is one of the only times and places where Apia really gets in your face.
Every car horn is worked within an inch of its life and beyond. Reggae music blares through subwoofers, car stereos and portable speakers that are waved out the windows or strapped to the roof.
A couple of blokes just hold up their phones to the business end of a megaphone and one of them plays a recording of Paulo leading the Sivi Tau ahead of one of Samoa’s past triumphs and everyone, be they on cars or on foot, either howls like a wolf or sings like an angel.
There are children everywhere – piled into the backs of utes and onto buses, swapping between cars when traffic stops, cheering and performing their own Sivi Tau’s on the roadside and playing touch footy on the black sand beach that appears at low tide.
Gordon Chan Kum Tong, the Manly dummy half who has played for Samoa each of the past two seasons, is here. He's not making a big deal of it, but everyone else sure is.
Earlier in the day he was shaking hands and slapping backs at the local footy grand finals over at Apia Park, where the games were tough and willing despite monsoonal conditions.
But during the parade the sun fights its way through the clouds and he is in the back of one of the trucks, being received like a soldier returning from war. He has come home, and they love him for it.
As the stray dogs and cats of Apia run for cover, some of them settle in the company of the men set up on park benches or on the sea wall and the crack of tins opening – Vailima for the old fellas, Taula for the younger lads – cuts through the decibels as they take in the sights.
Ask them and they will tell you that this happens before every Toa Samoa game these days and it’s the same following a win, even during the last World Cup when the matches finished at four in the morning.
The convoy goes across Vaisigano bridge, past the docks, down towards the village of Vaiala and then up and back towards town again. Most cars do four or five laps at least, most of it at a crawling pace.
There’s a few coppers here and there, blocking off streets, navigating traffic and making sure nobody is surfing on top of the cars.
Paulo has recorded public service announcements in the past asking fans not to do it and they seem to have worked because nobody does.
In the weeks to come as the games get bigger the police will ask the public to halt the parades due to safety concerns following the celebrations after the win over Tonga — but today everything goes off without a drama.
It begins in the afternoon, a full 24 hours before the 6pm kick-off the next day, but some cars keep it up well into the night.
One straggling ride, which contains the guys who played the Paulo recording, keep it up until just after 10pm and wear their status as the last car standing as a badge of high honour.
None of it is performative, like so much of modern sporting fandom.
It feels older and stronger.
This is not about sport, really. It is about Samoa. It is for Samoa, by Samoa, to show love for Samoa and they will share that love with anybody, but they do it for themselves and nobody else.
This is an expression of true and deep feeling, a display of joyful pride, a call to arms that can be heard wherever Samoans draw breath.
This is not just life, this is a Samoan life, and it is happening right in front of you.
Pancakes in Salepaga
Apia is slower on Sundays, just like all of Samoa is slower on Sundays and it's no wonder. The motto of the nation is "Samoa is founded on God", and most live that every day and on the Sabbath most of all.
Aside from a few corner shops and the 24-hour McDonalds near the centre of town – the only one in Samoa — everything is closed, the sale of alcohol is forbidden and everyone goes to church in the morning.
There's plenty of different denominations but regardless of the precise nature of the service all of them go for hours because there is so much singing.
Samoa is built on family and faith and Sunday is when those two things come together. After church there's a family lunch and it's afterwards, with bellies full of taro, oka and palusami, that we set out.
Our destination is Salepaga, near the south-eastern corner of Upolu, the most populated of Samoa's two major islands.
There's some fales, or beach huts, down there that are made in the traditional style with thatched panels for walls and nothing but a bed-roll and a mosquito net inside and all there is down that way is the people and the land, which means there's plenty.
In the last census the population was a bit over 600 and that's being extremely generous.
It's the kind of place where a hard-earned thirst can be quenched by smashing a coconut on a rock until the water comes out and at sunset it is more beautiful than a dream of paradise.
My friend Katefinau is driving. His nephew played junior footy with one of my brothers back in Australia years ago and only a few short notice phone calls let him know I was coming, but he has made me feel like family every second I've known him.
That's what stands out the most — the natural beauty of Samoa, from the sliding rocks at Papasese to the heights of Sopoaga Falls to the views alongside the Trail of Loving Hearts that leads to the top of Mt Vaea, is immeasurable, but it’s the kindness of the people which is infinite.
The arrivals section of the airport is always crowded with families welcoming people home and drenched with tears of happiness, even at 1am when the last flight from Fiji gets in.
There is no wait they cannot endure for one another, because all they want is to be together.
Their hospitality to visitors, be they from next door or a world away, is humbling because they are so proud of their home, their faith, their family and their country and all they want to do is share it and feel it together, with strangers and friends alike.
Everything they have is to be shared and to have a guest to share it with is a joy.
It extends to strangers as well. Apia is crawling with taxis but once you get out of town and you walk along the road for long enough, someone will stop and offer you a lift to wherever you're going.
If you try to give them a few tala as thanks, they will refuse and they will outlast your protestations.
If you slip it down the side of your seat for them to find later, they will circle back hours later to return the money they assume you dropped by mistake and tell you to be more careful.
Katefinau played piano at mass in the morning while his wife and one of his daughters sang and the day before said you can feel the touch of the Lord while you're in Samoa. His specialty for lunch was the oka, which is the Samoan version of ceviche, a Latin dish of raw fish cooked in lime juice.
The church was right next to his barbershop, where he dispenses the sharpest fades in Apia and that's really saying something.
He named it HST Barbershop, after his three daughters, but he's since had a fourth and he jokes he might have to open a second location to fit all the names in.
About a month ago, he cut Tuimaleali?ifano Va?aleto?a Eti Sualauvi II's hair, the current O le Ao o le Malo, or head of state of Samoa, and earlier this year he had his nephew, Joseph-Aukuso Sua'ali'i, back home — signed Wallabies and Waratahs jerseys have pride of place the walls.
We drive along the coastal road, where the hills and forest seem to crash right into the edge of the sea, then through the village of Solosolo, where Brian To'o's family is from.
That happens more than once. You can walk through a village that looks like any other only to find out they have a proud son who has travelled far and found greatness.
Jarome Luai traces his lineage back to Matafa'a on the western shores of Upolu and Le'auva'a, which has only existed for a bit over a century after it was founded by a community who were relocated from Savai'i following a volcanic eruption.
The May clan are from Falakai and Lauli'i, the latter of which is just east of Apia and 20 minutes down the road from there you'll find Lufilufi, a town which has three favourite sons in Jaydn Su'A, Izack Tago and Hamiso Tabuai-Fidow.
A cluster of talent like that isn't so unusual either. Payne Haas's family is from Faleatiu, out by the airport, which also produced former heavyweight boxer David Tua.
Likewise, retired legend Nigel Vagana's father traces some of his roots through Lotofaga which is also home to some of the family of former prime minister Fiame Naomi Mata?afa.
It's on the way to Salepaga and a weather-beaten sign outside the primary school tells you that another fighter, Joseph Parker, has some roots here.
Parker fought in Samoa once, almost ten years ago now, when he was right on the cusp of breaking out.
The people still talk about it like it happened yesterday, which is how they talk about glorious times like the 2022 World Cup semifinal against England, or hard ones like the 2009 earthquake and tsunami from which the south coast is still recovering.
It feels like the past keeps happening alongside the present as it turns into the future. It makes the memory seem as powerful as what's happening right in front of you.
We go up into the hills, through the vast, green country and down to Salepaga. When we arrive half the village is enjoying the water as dusk beckons.
The game against New Zealand is tonight and the Legalo family, who run the fales, have sorted out a flash TV for the occasion. Only there's a problem with getting it connected to the signal.
Kaei, one of the locals, leads me down the street to his friend Salepa's house. He has a satellite dish and watches more footy than anyone Kaei knows and Salepa welcomes us in warmly. He has lived in Sydney and Brisbane but came back home a few years ago.
He likes the quiet life and he's in great nick at 74 years old because, in his words, he has never drank or smoked and his heart is open to the Lord, and he delights in telling us how close Fetu Samoa came to upsetting the Kiwi Ferns earlier in the afternoon.
His wife makes us coffee and pancakes and during the national anthem as the camera pans across the Samoan line he gestures at the screen and tells us one of the players is married to his daughter, Salesa, and it becomes clear that of all the houses in all the villages in all of Samoa, we've ended up watching the match with Josh Papali'i's father-in-law.
Games that live forever
A storm rolls in around halftime and it's so heavy that Kaei jokes it'll blow the roof off the fales in the night. If Samoa wins it's not like anyone will get any sleep anyway but it's not to be and it's Papali’i's Canberra teammate, Joseph Tapine, who rules the day with a man-of-the-match performance in New Zealand’s 24-18 win.
Samoa start slow, but are brought to life before halftime through tries to Deine Mariner and Simi Sasagi, the latter of which causes a noise like thunder, and levels the scores at 18-all with a quarter of the game to go.
In a mark of how far they have come since some of the NRL's best decided to take up Samoan blue, there's little talk about how well they did to stick it so close either from the players in Auckland or the punters in Salepaga.
The frustration from Jarome Luai is especially palpable because it's clear he knows they let this one slip. Samoa had enough chances to win but couldn't quite close.
Murray Taulagi, one of the best corner finishes in rugby league, goes within millimetres of scoring twice before finally landing the equaliser.
Late in the game, Mariner blows a certain try which would have given them the lead and after New Zealand score what went on to be the winning try, To'o puts down a late chance to level.
Still, it's a sensational and physical contest that got a run on the flash TV once we got it working. At night the Legalo family tee up old Samoan highlights with that same 2022 World Cup semifinal getting the most play because that famous run played out like a legend which came true.
For the most part it's just the family there but Tapu, who is in charge of the place, insists I come round to meet everybody and try some Palolo, a type of bright blue sea worm that can only be harvested by hand once or twice a year at a precise amount of time following a certain full moon.
It's a special occasion — they call it the caviar of the Pacific. A bite of it tastes like the sea itself.
Tapu has five sons and he's proud that they all have good jobs. One of them, Paei, is a minister and as we watch the highlight of Stephen Crichton's fateful drop goal go over three years ago and a world away he tells me how much rugby league has lifted in Samoa in recent times.
It's not just that the national team does well, he explains, because Manu Samoa is still a big screaming deal even if they haven't enjoyed the same success as the Toa.
It's that players like To'o, Papali'I, Crichton, Luai and Haas all play on a big, relatively local stage every week. They are easy to see, be it for their NRL clubs during the finals or in State of Origin matches.
They aren't just recalled from misty, far off lands when Samoa has a game, they are always there at the highest level and in the biggest games and that's made a difference.
They are a more constant presence in everyday Samoan life, be it in Salepaga or Apia or Auckland or Sydney or Brisbane or anywhere. Playing for Samoa is now as big a dream as playing for the Wallabies, All Blacks or Kangaroos used to be.
Even if the Toa's triumphs happen far away, all of Samoa — wherever life has taken them — still feels part of it. In looking to give back, they have created a new legend for the people to believe in.
During the World Cup, he tells me, people took to the streets in the middle of the night after each of the wins to celebrate what was then the nation's finest sporting hour.
When you ask him what it might be like if they beat Australia or New Zealand he shakes his head and says he can't imagine a party that big, even though soon he might have to try.
A rivalry of a thousand years
Samoa and Tonga have history. Most of it isn't the kind of football history told by grainy highlights and greybeard ex-players, although that is starting to grow.
They first played each other in 1986 but it wasn't until the 2008 World Cup, which marks the first time both sides fielded full teams with NRL and Super League experience, that we have a match which feels like the beginning of what we've come to know.
Nigel Vagana led Samoa out that day in front of a crowd of just over 11,000, which included several members of the current Samoa team.
Now, as they dance on stage fresh off a win in front of four times that number, the former Warrior, Bulldog and Shark marvels at how far his country has come.
"It's a blessing. There was a lot of us that could see the potential of what we could become if we did things a bit differently, were resourced a bit better and got guys onto a level playing field," Vagana says.
"Tony Puletua, Willie Poaching, Mark Taufua, Sam Tagataese, Frank Pritchard – there's so many guys who have done so much work behind the scenes. It's just great for us to be able to celebrate the stage we're on now.
"It's great for the people who were there that day to see the potential in real life for both teams, Tonga and Samoa. To see it all these years later and what it's become it's pretty humbling."
Vagana scored a try that day in Samoa's 20-12 win in 2008 and he, Puletua and Taufua are all in camp with the team this week, teaching them where this team has come from and helping to maintain the key to the future, which, in his words, is "an environment that combines high-performance and culture".
Since that watershed day 17 years ago, Samoa and Tonga have played at plenty of the strongholds of the Pasifika diaspora and contests always crackled. There were times when pitch invasions before fulltime were not uncommon.
But ever since Jason Taumalolo changed the game by choosing Tonga over New Zealand in 2017 and a host of Samoans did the same in 2022, the quality of player has matched the spirit and the result is pure, uncut football gold.
None of those games have happened on the islands themselves — Samoa hasn't played on home soil since 2016 and Tonga hasn't since 2007 — but the magic can happen anywhere, because these are a travelling people.
So many of them left their piece of heaven to look for a new life because while home is home, sometimes they have to leave to find opportunities to provide for their families that just aren't as common in the motherland.
But being there for Samoa and Tonga when they play is like holding a piece of that home to your heart and they will go anywhere to find it. They would follow these teams anywhere, going forth and fearing no darkness.
"The NRL wants to take this wonderful game to the world, it's not hard to see the teams to do it with," Vagana says.
"Wherever the guys go, Samoa will always be in their hearts."
At the last meeting between the two in frozen Warrington in the north of England, there were fans who came from as far away as Utah, Hawaii and the old countries themselves.
They came together far from home and anyone with two eyes and a beating heart could tell rugby league had a winning lottery ticket on its hands but only now, three years later, is it being cashed in.
This Brisbane meeting is a horse of a different colour. Graduation day in the new backyard. Those past Samoa-Tonga matches filled smaller stadiums but few of them had capacities higher than 20,000.
Lang Park is a big house and it's the first meeting at one of the strongholds since Samoa, inspired by the Tongan example, experienced their own great homecoming and had all the favourite sons choose the Toa.
That change three years ago is why we're just at the start and why these furious days are the beginning of something, the matches we will look back to in the years to come as the dawn of what should evolve into a rugby league rivalry like no other.
The flip comparison is to say Samoa and Tonga is like State of Origin but that's not quite right. It does have a resemblance to Origin, only if there was two Queenslands and the crowd of 44,682 was more than double their previous attendance record.
The reason there is so much history to be made between the two now is because there's already so much history that exists and it is old. Not old like a black and white photograph but old like the sands of time.
Through the centuries, from the time the Polynesians spread across every corner of the Pacific thousands of years ago, the two countries have traded, warred and become intertwined by marriages between Samoan nobles and Tongan royalty.
They are distinct and separate cultures but parts of them are bound together by millennia of life and death and love and blood and faith and the spoils of their lands, and now that bond is shared on the field in the places where they have found a new home, far from where it was once forged.
It has always been here and it makes these matches feel like less of a game and more of the latest chapter in a never-ending story, and a meeting of two peoples, plenty of whom have both blue and red in them.
A handful of players, like Tonga prop Stefano Utoikamanu, have played for both nations. Half-and-half jerseys, or shirts bearing the phrase "toko-uso" — the two words meaning brother in both languages — are easy to spot on Caxton Street and in the stands.
It's a Sunday.
So that means it's faith and family.
The ground announcer urges the fans to stand up "because you were sitting all morning at church" and Deine Mariner's father, Lapi, sings the national anthem.
It is old and new at the same time. Paulo leads Samoa out, like usual, and when he does he breaks the caps record. Alongside him, in traditional Samoan dress, is Tim Lafai — the very man whose record he is breaking, who grew up in Samoa in a house without walls.
The action on the field is fearsome, but not once does it ignite among the fans even though, as one Tongan is heard to lament, "the Samoans are never gonna stop bragging about this".
The 34-6 win is one of their finest performances ever. It is comprehensive, clinical and brutal. The three tries before the rain delay took uncommon skill and that was the only thing that could break down such resolute defence.
Paulo excels in all areas and is clearly best on ground. His running game is always strong and his shot on Soni Luke is the biggest hit of the day in an extremely crowded field and Luke will likely feel it on cold mornings for the rest of his life.
But it is Paulo's sophistication and cunning as a passer, which has been long overlooked, that is of the greatest benefit to Samoa as his brains help the Toa win the brawny battle in the middle of the field.
Paulo plays a hand in three tries, including laying on Haas's late score that puts the result totally beyond doubt.
Around two-thirds of the crowd stay through the suspension of play, because there’s worse places to bunker down than Lang Park with half the Pacific, and their voices seem to rise highest at that moment.
Haas is the new man on the team and the greatest player to choose this life since Taumalolo got everything started all those years ago. Like all the rest of them, he has come home to something that has always been a part of him.
It's a day with no shortage of heroes. Roger Tuivasa-Sheck has his best game at fullback in some years and Jeremiah Nanai, who can struggle to focus at club level, finds a rough edge while also scoring two tries of breathtaking skill.
Tonga is vanquished, but they’ll have another chance on another day, and it’s only last year they sent their own reminder of how far they have come.
They have arrived themselves — their match against New Zealand a week later attracts the third highest Test crowd on Kiwi soil in the game's history — and they will have other battles with Samoa in the future and they will be every bit as stirring.
But right now, it is Samoa's time.
They will play New Zealand again today at Parramatta Stadium with the chance to become kings of the Pacific and take some silverware back to Apia for the first time.
The last step
Getting a shiny prize, a bit of glory to go with the honour and pride, is the final step for them and Tonga alike and Samoa can do it, make no mistake about that, even as it shapes as the kind of game where blood will spill and the victors will show off their scars proudly in the years to come.
New Zealand is fresh off a blinding win over Tonga. The injection of Keano Kini at fullback has lifted the attack up a notch and Dylan Brown is playing some of the best football of his life.
Between Tapine, James-Fisher-Harris, Moses Leota, Naufahu Whyte, Erin Clark and Xavier Willison, the Kiwis have a pack with the muscle, mobility and cleverness to break down almost anything in their way.
It was only two years ago that this team didn't just beat Australia, they handed the Kangaroos the heaviest defeat in their entire history.
But Samoa very nearly downed the Kiwis in their first meeting and even on New Zealand soil the crowd was Samoa strong. The Toa are high on confidence and rhythm, which means their football is as robust as the emotion behind it.
This time the stadium will be as blue as the ocean that meets the shores back in Salepaga, where Salepa will no doubt be watching, as will the Legalo's and perhaps they will have new highlights to treasure because this could be the kind of game that lives forever.
It will be the talk of Katefinau’s barber shop in the lead up and afterwards, and the day before the game the streets will be flooded and the flags will wave high and proud in the night and the sound will wreck the ears, fill the heart and cleanse the soul.
Samoa will happen all over the world and it will come to the game with all it's might to prove yet again that it is not just some islands in the Pacific but the feeling its people carry together.
Journeys that have taken them so far away will bring them back to themselves, and that could be enough for a trophy and there are no words for what that would mean.
But even if it's not, the fact Samoa can come together from every part of the map and hold Parramatta Stadium today in its fist is proof.
Proof of its power. Its voice. Its spirit. And its love.
