It took just seven super-humans to stop a nation. And stop the nation they did.
Fiji time took on a new meaning. And will for the days to come.
Kava producers can expect to become instant millionaires.
The expectations on these young men were enormous. The performance was even better against Great Britian.
Seven men. Forty-three points. One gold medal.
Fiji is glowing gold on the Olympic map. And these men deserve it. They have set the blistering pace of sevens rugby since the 1980s.
They may struggle at times to put 15 world-class men on the park, but they have the best seven any nation in the world can muster.
I was in Fiji three weeks ago when the team was announced. The announcement was made live on TV. The Prime Minister read out the names and hugged his men. It led the news.
The next item was about how cold it was for the kids walking to school in winter. I didn't understand that one - it was 28degC with the air con on.
But I simply couldn't stop watching as these young men took to the stage in search of standing on the biggest stage on top of the world. A bunch of young men carrying the hopes and dreams of the 110 inhabited islands that make up Fiji.
There was no big money - no fancy sponsors with trillions of dollars or no billion-dollar facilities.
There was a dodgy microphone and a Prime Minister telling his men that Fiji was banking on their success. No pressure.
These guys have had the most raw talent, the fastest players, the most creativity and the widest smile on the sevens circuit for the best part of 20 years.
It may just be one gold medal. But it's Fiji first.
Fiji will party all weekend. All 881,065 Fijians across the South Pacific. Because this was about more than a gold medal. This was, finally, international recognition of the little Goliath who could, and did.
I'm bloody stoked for them.