NOVEMBER 19, 1969, witnessed two significant achievements for mankind.
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Apollo 12 astronauts Charles Conrad and Alan Bean became the third and fourth men on the moon and Brazilian footballer Pele scored his 1000th goal.
In South, if not North, America, the latter represented a far more significant example of human ability.
The grainy footage of that goal is forever embedded in my memory. Playing for his beloved Santos against Vasco de Gama, Pele scores from the penalty spot, collects the ball and kisses it before he is mobbed by fans, journalists and even opposition players.
The footage becomes shaky as the very stadium appears to tremble, Pele embarking on an emotional lap of honour before being substituted, presumably from celebration fatigue.
Notwithstanding the fact that many of those goals came in meaningless high-scoring friendlies against handpicked easy-beats, what Brazilians call the "milesimo" still represents a huge achievement.
And perhaps because of that footage, the venue for this milestone has always held a magical, almost mythical appeal for me.
Growing up, the thought of watching Brazil play at the Maracana in Rio de Janeiro seemed as likely as following Conrad and Bean to the moon.
For years I watched Brazilian footballers score goals that defied the laws of geometry, bending in shots from impossible angles, usually past hapless Scottish goalkeepers.
The Olympic Games semi-final between Brazil and Honduras was an opportunity to visit the Maracana.
At first sight, it is a vast doughnut of a stadium. It looks like an alien spaceship has landed midway between Tijuca National Park and Guanabara Bay.
It was built for the 1950 World Cup and hosted the final in which Brazil unthinkably lost 2-1 to South American neighbours Uruguay, an occurrence so painful to the national psyche that it became part of its lexicon. The phrase Maracanaco translates as: "That God-awful thing that happened in Maracana."
A crowd of 199,854 watched that match - that's two MCGs. Paul McCartney attracted a world record 182,000 for a concert at the venue in 1990.
The crowd for the Olympic semi may have been 100,000 less than sang along to Hey Jude, but, along with the subsequent final, still helped provide my most unforgettable Rio moments.
In truth, Honduras were lambs to the slaughter. While Brazil boasted players from European powerhouses Barcelona, Lazio and Paris Saint-Germain, only two of the opponents' squad played outside Honduras, and one of them was in USA so hardly a step up in standard.
Although the Olympic squad (mostly under-23s) is a shadow of the national Brazilian team, it still contained the country's biggest superstar and a genuine pretender to both Pele's crown and his famous No.10 shirt.
It is no exaggeration to say Neymar is as worshipped in Rio as Christ the Redeemer.
Also hailing from Santos, Neymar was South American player of the year at 19 and hasn't looked back in the five years since.
So when he scored the fastest Olympic goal after 14 seconds it felt like the South American fault line had shifted to the east of the continent.
Midway through the first half, Gabriel Jesus became Rio's second most famous Christ-related figure by doubling the lead. Ten minutes later Jesus rose again and Honduras were halfway to being crucified.
By now the step-overs, drag-backs and back-heels were out in force, but what better place for some carnival football than Rio? After all, the Sambodromo was just three stops away on the Metro.
Neymar was loving playing the star role. He demanded the ball constantly, even to the extent of tackling his own teammates. He looked like a Grade 10 in a Grade 7 match, which, in football terms, he is.
And the crowd loved him.
The vast majority wore Brazil shirts, most had the No.10 on them and usually the additional words "Neymar Jr".
At one point he sent a free-kick so far over the bar it looked like a rugby conversion, but still the crowd cheered him.
In the second half, Marquinhos converted a Neymar corner, despite doing his best to miss. Luan added a fifth straight out of a futsal game and was then upended to see the ref award a 90th-minute penalty.
Inevitably, Neymar grabbed the ball.
Forty-seven years after his number-sake at the same venue, he also kissed the ball before placing it on the spot and sticking it away into the corner to finish with first and last minute goals.
Two years after losing a World Cup semi-final 7-1 on home soil to eventual champions Germany, there was a touch of irony to drawing the same nation in the Olympic final. Predictably, Neymar was again the hero, scoring Brazil's goal in the 1-1 draw then adding the winning penalty shootout conversion.
The Rio Olympics were far from perfect. Aside from Brazilian football matches, the stadia were far from full, transport was a major headache and crime hung over the Games like the ever-present excrement odour at the main transport mall.
But Australian rowing gold medallist Kim Brennan beautifully described the Games as "a cocoon out of which a butterfly of national pride can emerge to build a happier future".
And having watched the host nation fight a neighbourly quarrel with Argentina at the basketball, celebrate a 9-0 hockey stuffing by Australia, dominate beach volleyball on their most famous beach and see their golden boy kick the golden goal to win their national sport for the first time, I can report seeing an awful lot of happy Brazilians.