The night in Dortmund

FRANKFURT, Germany

A memorable and woolly night in Dortmund ended early this morning with a train back here and touchdown at the Star’s apartment around 3:30 a.m. I would have dropped this in the blog earlier, either directly from the train or after, but frankly I was exhausted. For the petroleum-based column off Germany’s dramatic 1-0 win over Poland, go here.

Meantime, some other thoughts, and apologies for the length in advance – this is not very bloggish of me, but like I said, this was one I’ll remember for a while and here’s a taste of what it was like:

The Canadian media contingent was pretty slim – myself, Steve Brunt of the Globe and Guillaume Dumas of Le Soleil – but our seats were fantastic. About eight rows off the field, over the German enclosure, it was one of those spectator instances where geometry was sacrificed for up-close, breathtaking, bone-crunching intimacy.

FRANK AUGSTEIN/AP

Not a bad seat in the house. Unless you're sitting behind a giant flag, of course.

And what a stadium! A couple of German reporters called it the country’s best beforehand and I could see why: very tight to the seats (no moat or running track), steep stands, no distracting shadows on the pitch, open corners underneath the upper deck where lower-deck fans come in and extra banners are draped. Fifteen minutes before kickoff and the SRO crowd of 65,000 Germans and Poles belted out I Will Survive. After wandering around in the strange, at times grim landscape outside during the afternoon, it was like being transported somewhere very different.

An in-game snapshot: A ball bounces high into the stands just to my right, and the fan who catches it refuses to give it back to the steward until his buddy can run round to the ramp below and take some quick pictures of him beaming with his prize. Click, click, snap, snap, grin, grin – okay, you can have your ball back.

MARTIN MEISSNER/AP

Germany captain Michael Ballack leads the fast-paced, flowing German attack against Poland.

This is my fourth World Cup and I did Euro 2004 – I’d reckon I’m pretty close to 100 matches seen between 'em all when this is over, so I have some familiarity with the big-match atmosphere. This was among the best for the combo of home-country delirium and what's at stake, rivaling the ’98 final at the Stade de France and that crazy ’02 game where South Korea edged Italy in extra time. This Germany really flows, starting with Philipp Lahm at left back and extending up through Ballack, Schweinsteiger and Klose. Frings played very solidly at defensive midfield. They didn’t cash their chances, which has to worry them some, but they did put Poland, down to 10 men with a quarter-hour to go, on the defensive throughout and only Boruc in goal for Poland prevented a deluge.

It will be very interesting to see what happens when Germany runs up against some of the other sides that have impressed here so far: the Dutch, Italy, Argentina, Spain and the Czech Republic have all looked good to really good, and maybe even Brazil (what's up with Ronaldo?) and England (Rooney should play, so let's see how they go today) will tune it up soon. This could be a really good tournament, as long as the security holds – and last night, despite the ugly pictures, it seemed to hold. This was always going to be the biggest night for the nasty stuff.

At the final whistle, the plan was to make a quick getaway. We ran out of the stadium – I haven’t been getting my usual regular running in here, what with the schedule, but this was an unscheduled workout – collected our stuff at the media centre (best so far, with a pizza/pasta bar, lots of work stations and big enough that you didn’t feel like you were in the middle of a large, smelly and stupid ant colony) and ran across the bridge and down into the nearby neighbourhood where we flagged a cab.

The ride to the station was only four km and the driver spoke no English, but I did recognize the word "hooligans" coming from the dispatcher’s radio, at which point the driver pointed off down a side street, nodding his head. That was where it was going off, but major or minor in nature, it was impossible to discern from the main street to the station. On the main drag we traveled, maybe 10 minutes after that final whistle, partying fans were already out on the sidewalks lighting fires, waving flags and setting off flares while police vehicles, their lights flashing, sealed off those side streets and crossing points.

We got to the station ahead of the big crush, police thick outside and in. There was no place to work, so we ducked into the Deutsche Bahn rail office, which was still selling tickets, put our laptops on the lid of a garbage can and started tapping away, another unique situation. A glass wall separated us from the noisy crush of people pouring into the station proper, but occasionally, drunken fans inside the office came by and asked us for directions, thinking we were train officials. The train office closed at midnight, and they showed us out, very nicely, which was like heading into a fast-running stream, slippery underfoot, even crunchy at times from broken glass, the smell of spilt beer and cigarettes and sweat giving the tunnel a clammy, claustrophobic feel. Coming up to the train platform was like surfacing for air.

The first 20 minutes on the high-speed ICE train back to Frankfurt were a little hairy, too, my car jammed with lurching, shouting drunken German fans who were getting a little too interested for my liking in what I was doing on my laptop. But they got out at the first stop and the car was maybe a quarter-full and quiet after that – finally, the calm after the storm. These amazing net cards we bought here enable us to file from anywhere, anytime, as long as we can pull down a wireless signal, and by 1:45 a.m. local time – 7:45 p.m. in Toronto – the column had landed while I was halfway to Frankfurt. Finally, it was time to relax.