The report says flags of all 48 qualified nations have been painted across the road, while paper versions hang overhead to form a canopy. It is the kind of scene that captures what tournament football still does better than almost anything else in sport: it pulls people outdoors and turns ordinary spaces into shared stages.
In Brazil, that matters. International football is rarely just about the Seleção for 90 minutes. It becomes decoration, music, argument, ritual and neighbourhood pride. When a whole street commits to the occasion, it says as much about identity as it does about fandom.
The same report says rain had slowed the work before improving conditions allowed residents to push on. That detail matters because it gives the story its rhythm: anticipation interrupted, then restored.
Children are reportedly helping from ladders, others are using the street for kickabouts, and visitors have been stopping to take photographs. That is how football culture spreads in tournament time. The match itself may be the headline, but the real energy builds in the days before kick-off, when communities make the event feel local.
Brazil’s World Cup story is always bigger than the team sheet. Expectation follows the national side everywhere, and supporters often answer that pressure by making the occasion festive rather than tense.
In Manaus, the report says locals plan to watch Brazil’s opening game from the street itself, beneath the flags. If that happens, the first whistle against Morocco will be only part of the picture. The next thing to watch is whether the display becomes one of the tournament’s enduring images as Brazil’s campaign gets under way.