Dailon Livramento drops to the floor, seemingly in shock as tears stream down his face. When he tries to stand, he’s floored by Sidny Cabral before the rest of his Cabo Verdean teammates join him. But Livramento has eyes only for his family. His mother, father, brother, and nearly a dozen cousins are trying to get onto the pitch to be with him. Back in the Dutch industrial city of Rotterdam, where Livramento and Cabral both grew up, thousands of residents pour into the streets to celebrate. Cabo Verde are going to the World Cup.

Livramento scored the all-important goal against Cameroon a month ago, and again today he opened the scoring in the Tubarões Azuis’ (Blue Sharks) 3–0 win over Eswatini that sent the tiny African country to football’s biggest stage for the first time ever. Perhaps there was no better player to send the team to the World Cup. Livramento is the embodiment of modern Cabo Verde.

Born and raised in Rotterdam—home to one of the largest Cabo Verdean diasporic communities—Livramento grew up playing football with the Duarte brothers, who also represent the Blue Sharks and hail from the same neighborhood. His cousin Logan Costa, born in France, now plays alongside him. Dailon’s older brother Jerzy “Jerr” Rocha Livramento is a successful musician, part of the hip-hop group Broederliefde, made up of rappers with roots in Cabo Verde, the Dominican Republic, and Curaçao.

This team is built on a diaspora that defines the nation’s identity like few others. After all, Cabo Verde was created as a country of immigrants. Today, more than three times as many Cabo Verdeans live abroad as on the islands themselves. Thirteen players in the squad were born outside the country—remarkably, six of them in Rotterdam, like Livramento. Even those born in Cabo Verde are shaped by migration, both internal and international. Captain and living legend Vozinha will turn 40 just a week before the World Cup, but he hasn’t lived on his home island of São Vicente since he was a child.

Head coach Bubista, also from São Vicente, spent years in Spain, Portugal, and Angola. Even now, he still lives on São Vicente and only travels to Santiago Island, where the capital, Praia, is located, when he’s on national duty. Stopira, who scored the third goal and is the favorite son of Praia, was born and raised in the Achada de Santo António neighborhood. But he has spent so much time abroad that he is now a naturalized Hungarian citizen.

Once the nerves were settled by Livramento’s goal just after halftime, the islands—and the 1.5 million Cabo Verdeans scattered across the globe—could finally begin the celebrations that had been a month in the making, ever since Livramento’s strike against Cameroon put the nation on this course to North America. The 15,000-seater stadium may be small, but thanks to the low-hanging roof above the main stand, the noise is deafening. Willy Semedo’s goal sealed the deal before Stopira put the cherry on top with a late third, sending the country into raptures.

Videos began flooding the internet: fans celebrating in Lisbon, Boston, Rotterdam, Oslo. But nowhere matched the energy in Praia. Thousands poured into the streets, bringing out speakers or commandeering those used for the big screens set up across the city to kick off impromptu street parties.

The biggest celebration of all took place at Estádio da Várzea, where a stage was erected on the pitch. Just 100 meters down the road from Sucupira market, Várzea is the true home of football and the beating heart of Cabo Verde. Before the construction of the national stadium just outside the city, Várzea was the home of the Blue Sharks. The federation headquarters still sit beside it, and all the local teams in Praia play there. It’s where Cabo Verde played their first-ever match, against Guinea-Bissau in 1978. It’s where they lifted their only trophy, when the national team won the Taça Amílcar Cabral—a now-defunct tournament once held annually between West African nations. The man who captained that team in 2000 was a young, combative midfielder named Bubista.

More significantly, Várzea was also the venue where the first Cabo Verdean flag was raised in 1975. The nation was literally born on that pitch. So it felt only right that the players would return to it—joining fans in a swelling, joyful crowd. DJs and musicians from across the islands and the diaspora performed, including Soraia Ramos and Livramento’s brother, Jerr.

It’s easy to look at a country like Cabo Verde, where the diaspora outnumbers the population on the islands by more than three to one, and assume that the team’s success is mainly down to the talent pool abroad. And it’s true: The country’s ability to tap into its sizable communities in Europe has helped propel it forward. But that’s only part of the story. Cabo Verde didn’t just beat a few minnows to qualify—they had to defeat five-time African champions Cameroon. And this isn’t a team made up of superstars. The players called up from the diaspora don’t feature in the top leagues of Europe. Most ply their trade in countries like Ireland, Israel, and Romania. Cameroon’s diaspora includes players like Manchester United’s Bryan Mbeumo, and they can still call on elite talents like Carlos Baleba, André-Frank Zambo Anguissa, and André Onana.

What has truly made Cabo Verde successful are the structures built up over the past decade on the islands themselves. Just 12 years ago, the team was disqualified from the 2014 World Cup qualifiers for fielding an ineligible player. Today, they are one of the best-run national teams on the continent. That transformation has been achieved with only seven full-time staff at the federation. But for them, small isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength. “The secret [to our success] is we are a small federation,” Federation Vice President Paulo Santos told Africa Is a Country. “All of us do everything. We take care of luggage. We do the translations at press conferences. We bring the kits onto the pitch.”

The federation has invested heavily in professionalizing its systems. At the 2021 AFCON in Cameroon, the team suffered bouts of food poisoning at two different hotels. Now, they travel with their own chef, who oversees all of the players’ meals. They’ve also tapped into FIFA’s Forward Fund—a pot of money national federations can access for development projects. Thanks to their strong relationship with FIFA—helped no doubt by the fact that FIFA’s director of member associations in Africa, Gelson Fernandes, was born in Praia but represented Switzerland as a player—they’ve built three training centers across the country worth $8 million.

The federation has also used the Forward Fund to help cover the soaring costs of travel during the qualification campaign. Flights across the continent aren’t cheap: Their recent away trip to Libya alone cost roughly $390,000. Cabo Verde’s qualification is not a miracle, nor is it some exotic tale of flair and spontaneity, as many will try to paint it. It is the result of a decade of hard work, serious planning, and a coach who has instilled a coherent identity in a team drawn from all corners of the world. They deserve their place at the World Cup. The question now is whether they can earn their place among their new peers.