It felt like a normal sport afternoon in a normal country. For the drizzle and the gray sky, it could have been somewhere in England. Minus the beer, of course.
It was Kabul, instead. It was Afghanistan. And it was the final of the Afghan Premier League.
The fear that the Taliban would interfere was luckily dispelled and the day turned to a remarkable celebration of sportsmanship.
The stadium was full, happy, loud, cheerful.
The fat, asthmatic old man sitting next to me offered me chocolate biscuits, while Lorenzo was shooting from the side of the pitch.
Toofan Harirod, the team from Herat won as it was expected.
On the way home, driving on a taxi we flagged on the street, we saw several cars driving past, honking, covered with stickers. Boys sitting on the hood or hanging out of the windows waved flags while singing songs to celebrate the victory of Toofan Harirod.