At the wheel of his old Logan, one of the countless red taxis criss-crossing the congested streets of Casablanca, Youssef honks his horn and weaves between cars parked in double line, scooters and handcarts.
At a red light, this superstitious person scans the blue sky dotted with light clouds.
“I hope it won't last too long.
Before all our matches, it rained, and that brought us luck.
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