Fußballweltmeisterschaft Report

…or the Agony of Defeat

The atmosphere in Dortmund was magical. The England-Portugal match was excruciating. I actually worried that I might have a heart attack during the penalty shoot-out. I didn’t, but I swear my grey hair count doubled (to 8 – still nothing to worry about). I was in regular radio contact with Jono in London – that weird went with P&O to watch the match in a Portuguese bar. Good thing I wasn’t there – I would have killed people.

Olive and I had driven to Dortmund earlier in the afternoon. We checked out one of the public viewing areas – a huge screen on Friedensplatz, but decided we couldn’t do it because it was about 32ºC (90ºF) and there was no shade at all. We walked round and became part of the pervasive carnival mood. The whole city centre was lined with beer, sausage and souvenir stands. I bought England paraphernalia – a red and white lei and a wristband. I wore them proudly, even after the match. There were flags everywhere, displayed on buildings and on people. People were happy.

I decided we needed to find an Irish pub – I wanted to be amongst limeys to watch the match. Olive asked a couple of people and we were directed to Limerick’s, which was nearby. We went in at 4 o’clock when they opened and staked out a prime table directly in front of the big screen.

It was actually a very exciting match. Except that England didn’t win. It was shocking when David Beckham went off with an injury at 51 minutes, but the team had enough depth and maturity to play without Beckham. It was even more shocking when Wayne Rooney got sent off at 62 minutes, and incredibly frustrating because it was down to his own stupidity. I reckon Rooney would have got only a yellow card for stepping on Ricardo Carvalho’s testicles – that could have been unintentional, after all. But then he shoved Cristiano Ronaldo and the referee gave him what he deserved. What a cunt.

England played well one man down for the rest of the match, but not quite well enough. The crowd in the pub was screaming for a goal. If there is one certainty in football, it’s that England do not win on penalties.

At the end of the 30 minutes of extra time, waiting for the penalty shoot-out, I thought I might throw up. I was shaking and tried to remind myself that I wasn’t actually English. The rest is history. England are out.

Olive tried to be sympathetic, but she was still over the moon from Germany’s win over Argentina the night before.