In the space of a week, Trinidad and To­ba­go’s Men’s Na­tion­al Team have kept the na­tion’s hopes flick­er­ing with a com­mand­ing 3-0 win over Bermu­da fol­lowed by a tense and test­ing 1-1 draw with Cu­raçao. These weren’t just re­sults on a score­board. They were re­minders that, de­spite our lim­i­ta­tions, de­spite the up­hill climb, this team is still in the fight, still dar­ing to dream of a place on foot­ball’s biggest stage.

And now, the jour­ney turns home­ward. Two cru­cial fix­tures in No­vem­ber against Ja­maica and Bermu­da in Trinidad hold the po­ten­tial to de­fine every­thing. Six points could take us in­to the next phase of qual­i­fy­ing. De­pend­ing on how re­sults fall else­where, it could even seal au­to­mat­ic qual­i­fi­ca­tion to the 2026 FI­FA World Cup.

But make no mis­take, there is no room for half-heart­ed­ness. There is no space for hes­i­ta­tion or fear. The team has no choice but to go all out, to play with every ounce of courage, hunger, and dis­ci­pline in pur­suit of those two wins. This is the mo­ment to dou­ble down, not back down.

Yet, in mo­ments like these, we al­so see some­thing about our­selves as a peo­ple — a ten­den­cy that goes be­yond foot­ball. When the chal­lenge looms large, some choose not to be­lieve. Some with­draw their faith, afraid of the fa­mil­iar sting of dis­ap­point­ment. We’ve been hurt be­fore by teams, by sys­tems, and by promis­es, and so many have built emo­tion­al walls to avoid the pain of hope un­ful­filled.

But in do­ing so, we cheat our­selves. We cheat the game. We cheat the dream.

It’s easy to be­lieve when the crowd is al­ready roar­ing, when qual­i­fi­ca­tion feels cer­tain, when suc­cess smells close. It’s com­fort­able to wear the red jer­sey when there’s no risk of heart­break. But be­lief, true be­lief, is not about com­fort. It’s about courage. It’s about what we hold on to be­fore the vic­to­ry ar­rives.

There’s a kind of tes­tic­u­lar for­ti­tude that sport de­mands, a brav­ery that isn’t mea­sured by how loud you cel­e­brate the win, but how firm­ly you stand when the odds are against you. Too of­ten, we see fans and even stake­hold­ers wait un­til the sun is out be­fore they show up with their en­er­gy and pride. But the re­al ones? The re­al ones walk through the storm, drenched in faith, be­cause they know that’s where char­ac­ter is forged.

This next month, the boys will need that kind of back­ing. The kind that shakes the sta­di­ums. The kind that trans­mits be­lief in­to the dress­ing room and across the coun­try. Be­cause this isn’t just about foot­ball, it’s about the spir­it of a na­tion that has al­ways punched above its weight when it choos­es to be­lieve in it­self.

We’ve seen what be­lief can do — from 1989 to 2005, and in count­less mo­ments where a small is­land made the world take no­tice. That same spir­it must live again now.

So to those still hold­ing back, stop pro­tect­ing your­self from heart­break. Be­cause in do­ing so, you pro­tect your­self from tri­umph too.

Be­lieve. Ful­ly. Reck­less­ly. Loud­ly. Be­cause be­lief is the bridge be­tween where we are and where we want to be. And right now, Trinidad and To­ba­go needs every sin­gle one of us stand­ing on that bridge, to­geth­er.