Day 32: Aftermath

BERLIN

Ageism: 67 Mundial years added to my life, so yes it’s past the point of retirement
Pallor: Coming back
Forecast: Who the hell cares? We’re done. Sun is shining and the weather is sweet, ya

Well that was a crazy finish last night. Going to wrap this up not with some weepy or hokey retrospective but some readings, because it’s time to go out and play tourist. I’ll check in on the blog, but apart from something truly bizarre – like perhaps, a head-butt to the chest of the first leather-shorted local who gives me a nipple tweak – this is it.
Let’s start off where we always start off. Yes, it’s the Ray Skyrme Show:

(PK 5-3) 1 ITA v FRA 1

MARTIN MEISSNER/AP

Zidane wins Golden Boot. "I got my award," says Fabio Cannavaro (pictured). "That's it right here."

Malouda downed, seven minutes gone!
Zizou’s change-up bamboozles Buffon!
Materazzi heads in!
An incredible din!
Twenty-five minutes played—the game’s on!

Score still 1-1 as extra time starts.
France control well the midfield ramparts.
(But Zidane’s head-butt card
Leaves this Cup Final scarred!)
Swell with pride all Italian hearts!

Vince Italia!

Yuppers. Thanks as always, Ray.

Big story here remains Zidane’s head butt on Materazzi, and what might have caused it -- French teammate William Gallas thought there had to be provocation. Richard Williams in the Guardian has a fine piece crafted on deadline – a real art, that, and Mr. Williams gets it – about Zidane:

Footballers generally operate a law of omerta on such matters, and Zidane is a reluctant talker at the best of times, so we may never be really sure what Materazzi did or said that provoked him into one of the acts of retaliatory violence that have studded his otherwise brilliant passage through the game. Whatever the cause, however, after 108 matches and 31 goals for France it was saddening to watch the great man leave the pitch, and football, in such an unsatisfactory manner.

Zidane has neverthless won the Golden Ball as the tournament's outstanding player. I voted for Cannavaro, who was runner-up.

Overall on the tournament, Star colleague Cathal Kelly blames globalization for what was, in sum, a blah soccer tournament hinging on defence:

Four decades ago, the clash between English soccer and Brazilian soccer was an unpredictable mixing of styles and tactics. The results were combustible and exciting. Today, the world's biggest stars play in the same leagues and play the same way. They see each other every weekend, rather than once every four years. There are no more surprises. The result — a turgid stalemate — was often on display in Germany.

Michel Platini says it's been the Coaches' World Cup:

"I'm not saying the football is poor, it just depends more than ever on what the coaches come up with. And in this tournament, you have to admit the formations have been rather defensive. In terms of the football, I don't think Germany 2006 will go down in the annals."

That's it from here. Skimpy way to end it, I know. But the rest is up to you -- did Zidane deserve the Golden Ball? Should FIFA adopt some form of video replay, which appeared to play a role in Sunday's pivotal moment (even if FIFA seems bound and determined to deny the possibility)? How does this Italy side rank with previous champions?

Like I said up top, i'm well past retirement age so I'm signing off with a severe case of laptopis rigoris. Many thanks to Spencer back at the home office for making this thing look so good, and to Cathal for his work here in Germany and from Toronto. Thanks to the Globe's Stephen Brunt -- on his way home as I type -- for being such a fine Oscar Madison to my Oscar Madison at the Frankfurt home base. And thanks, of course, to everyone who stopped by and even dropped in a comment. It's been fun. It's been tiring. And best of all, God willing, we only have to wait four years to do it all over again.

Day 31: Finally, in Berlin

BERLIN

Ageism: 65 Mundial years added to my life
Pallor: Drawn
Forecast: Oh geez, again? Yup, it’s hot

The needle is on empty. Good thing we’re almost at the finish to this thing. Berlin this morning was rockin’. I was halfway through a walking tour when we hit the wall – no, not that wall, either the metaphoric one, or the real thing that’s still up in some small parts to mark that chapter of history here – a wall of people. They were all jammed down near the Brandenburg Gate, waiting for the arrival of Team Germany, six-deep on the sidewalks, even if it just meant a fleeting wave and a blast of exhaust as the team bus rolled by. And just like that, our tour group dissolved, two of us making it through the throng and across the street just before the buses arrived, and the rest marooned somewhere in the vicinity of Unter den Linden Street. Never did finish the tour.
What a transformation in the last 4 ½ weeks. When I arrived here there was intense concern over the fate of the Mannschaft and rookie coach Juergen Klinsmann. He was derisively dubbed “Grinsi Klinsi” by the tabloid Bild for his sunny optimism and his laid-back manner. In Bild this morning, they printed a card for people to clip and send in, a petition asking him to stay on after a third-place finish in the tournament.
Oh yes, the third-place game. Here’s JABS' limerick laureate Ray Skyrme on that:

GER 3 v POR 1

Deutschland hammered home Third Place, by golly.
To have not bet on that would be folly.
Schweinsteiger struck twice,
One for Nuno, that’s nice,
But the Man of the Match? Why not Oli?

Why not indeed. Oliver Khan was warring with Klinsmann a few months back, after he was demoted to backup. Saturday, Klinsi gave him the start. Beckenbauer questioned Klinsi’s methods before this tournament – Saturday, he hugged him and urged him to stay on.
No matter what happens tonight, there’s already been one big winner at this World Cup: Klinsmann. Along with Beckenbauer and Germany, of course.

And for something completely different, e-mailer D'arcy Palmer sends in this one, on a South Korean TV commentator sent home from the World Cup after he said on air that he agreed with a crticial referee's decision that went against South Korea in their final group match against Switzerland:

Commentator Shin argued, “The Korean players stopped their play after watching the linesman’s action and then rushed towards the referee to complain after the goal was approved. Judging the situation coolly from a commentator’s point of view, it was not an offside. I just said what I saw and thought.”
Three days later, on July 27, he received a phone call from his broadcasting station. They told him that given the circumstances in which he was being criticized by the public as a traitor, they couldn’t entrust their microphone in his hands anymore.

Today's game

Italy 1 (Materazzi 19th minute), France 1 (Zidane pen. 7th minute) aet (Italy 5-3 on penalties). Teams: Italy: Buffon; Grosso, Cannavaro, Materazzi, Zambrotta; Gattuso, Perotta (Iaquinta 61), Pirlo, Camoranesi (Del Piero 87), Totti (De Rossi 61); Toni. France: Barthez; Abidal, Gallas, Thuram, Sagnol; Makelele, Malouda, Ribery (Trezeguet 100), Vieira (Diarra 55), Zidane; Henry (Wiltord 108).

Yellow cards: Zambrotta, Sagnol, Makelele.

Red card: Zidane 109.

Yes, a red card to Zidane in his final international, for turning on Materazzi and head-butting him with some conviction in the chest. Materazzi went down and then off, jawing with French coach Domenech and Vieira had to be restrained from going after him by a teammate. Strange -- I still don't know what precipitated it. This was a tense, but patchy game played mostly in the midfield. Malouda gained the penalty that led to the first goal, but he seemed to go down a little too easily and didn't appear to be touched. Materazzi leveled it with a smart header off a Pirlo corner. Italy were most dangerous on set pieces and seemed aimless otherwise -- while France got a lot from the Henry-Ribery linkup, but both were subbed off the field before penalties. Trezeguet the hard-luck guy, hitting the crossbar with France's second spot kick when Buffon was going the other way. Italy made all five of theirs, Fabio Grosso striking the final one. Lots of singing and cheering from the Italia supporters, and the Azzurri in the corner hopping up and down. But Zidane's red card is as much a part of this story. Amazing.

The final, in verse

The mysterious and rhyming punster Ray Skyrme -- Sarky Ryme, maybe, according to emailer AlanDM -- is back, and with a tip for the final that offers a yang to my yin. He's going with Les Bleus. At least I think he is. Take it away, Sarky! I mean, Ray-Ray:

ITA v FRA

Caesar’s legions must now invade Gaul,
To hold Vercingétorix in thrall.
If his shrewd Roman plan
Fails to capture his man,
Julius Caesar himself may well fall.

But this war won’t be easy to wage,
Gaul’s commander not easy to cage.
Daubed with red, white, and blue,
Screaming “Vive Zizou!”
Gaul’s defenders will quell Rome’s rampage.

Day 30: A Hungry March to the Final

BERLIN

Ageism: 64 Mundial years (another day, and a Hungry March Band CD to go with an unforgettable show of theirs at a tiny, airless club in Ostkreuz, a neighbourhood in the eastern part of town)
Pallor: Leaden, like the skies
Forecast: Rainy, humid

After being away from soccer for two+ days, it’s time to get back into it tonight -- with the third-place game. Well, I’ve got nothing to say for once, and I’ll leave it regular contributor Ray Skyrme to set it up in his usual rhymin’ way:

GER v POR

Deutschland meets Portugal Saturday
In a match neither team wants to play.
But for national pride
Let both coaches decide
That their best troops will enter the fray.

Let this match be a true exhibition
Of the Game played without inhibition,
Play that thrills and enthuses,
Wherein nobody loses:
Players, spectators, FIFA tradition.

Hmm. Ray be getting’ a little teary-eyed there. Stiff upper lip there, lad, we're almost done.
Let’s look at a game that does mean a little bit more: Sunday’s final. And this fascinating fact from Mark Sandler of the New York Times on chief local organizer Franz Beckenbauer:

Barnstorming from city to city in a twin-engine Augusta helicopter lent by a sponsor, Beckenbauer will have attended 46 of the 64 games by the time he takes his seat in Olympic Stadium in Berlin. He is a familiar presence in the VIP section, usually at the elbow of people like Prince William of England, Diego Maradona of Argentina or Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany.

Good lord. Der Kaiser also took an unscheduled powder to go off and get married. Imagine how many Mundial years he’s added to his life this past month.
Oh, one more thing. The Hungry March Band? They’re so much fun, there oughta be a law. I’ve sweated less running marathons than I did Friday night in east Berlin, trying to dance to their wonderful and clever wall of sound in a performance space barely bigger than the main floor of my house – and my house is small, a typical Toronto WWI-era box -- but jammed with about 100 like-minded enthusiasts, not to mention the 16 or 18 pieces the band brought (I lost count – apparently they’re down a few this tour from the usual 24). They've never played Toronto. I think we have to get them there. JABS presents, or something like that.

Today’s game

Germany 3, Portugal 1. The hosts grab a much-needed shot in the arm after falling to Italy in the semis. The third-place game is pretty much an afterthought unless you're in it, so there was much celebration here Saturday night after this result. With Ballack out and Oliver Kahn getting a start in goal, Schweinsteiger scored two and an own goal accounted for Germany's scoring. Sunday they're having a big pep rally with the Mannschaft at Brandenburg Gate. Expect a million or so to be there, the warmup act to Sunday night's grand finale.

Sunday’s menu

Italy vs France. Well here it is. Only one lineup note on each side: Reserve Louis Saha is out for France after that needless second yellow picked up in the last minutes of the semi, while Alessandro Nesta remains injured and can’t return to partner Fabio Cannavaro, who has only been having one of the greatest defending tournaments of all-time. Couple his performance with Buffon in goal behind him, and I do think this Azzurri is unbreakable. The way Lippi has managed it, he’s always trying to avoid penalties by piling on the attack as the game goes on. The sentiment is mostly on France’s side, with all those elders heading off into the sunset, none of them getting more of the praise (and deservedly so) than Zidane. But Zizou was visibly wilting the final 20+ plus minutes of the semifinal, along with some other of his teammates -- note that Italy gets the extra day's rest going into this one -- and Barthez always seems to be just a bobble away from donning a clown suit. I’ll be very surprised if France wins this. Italy to get one, then add one late to seal it when France begin to wear down. Italy 2, France 0.

Day 29: Of Golden Ball and Brass Band

BERLIN

Ageism: 61 Mundial years
Pallor: Grey
Forecast: 30C (yes, it’s cooling off)

Couple of random items, short post. Let’s start with the personal. Last night, sitting out in the Friedrichstrasse’s Hackescher Market, drinking a Berliner Weisse mit Schuss – a white beer, with red raspberry syrup mixed in (you can also get green). Sort of like sour cream soda with a mild kick -- sounds horrible, but actually quite good.

AP PHOTO

Happy birthday Chris, you big teddy bear.

I’m not a birthday guy, and it wasn’t till around 11 that I mentioned to Brunt – the odd couple from Frankfurt, reunited for a night out -- that it was the b-day. So we had a toast. And that was it. And it was good. As it turned out, it was about to get better.
Eight years ago at France ’98, on the same day, I was with World Cup traveling partner Martin Smith of Journal de Montreal, staying in a small seaside hotel in the little Mediterranean town of La Ciotat, home of cinema pioneers the Lumiere brothers, and had a specially-made bouillabase birthday dinner prepared in a sandy tented restaurant that remains a favourite memory. We were there for three days before the semifinal in Marseille. It was a great way to unwind after the craziness of following this tournament in a leased minivan we dubbed the Hearse.
Apart from the unwinding, this is very different. One of the notable things about being in Berlin for the World Cup final is that it’s like any great and enormous city when a big event comes to town – there are always places where the World Cup doesn’t exist, and this was one of them. After a month here being surrounded by it, this was a welcome escape zone.
A three-piece Latin jazz band played for a while. Then as we were getting ready to leave, a 14-piece brass band moved slowly into the square, playing as they advanced, complete with a baton twirler and a women in a sort-of cowboy outfit tossing a silver hoop up in the air. Tricks and brass no-wave mashing -- a little bit of Latin, a little bit of Lounge Lizards, a hint of New Orleans and more. You can't beat it.
Then they played happy birthday for someone. I mentioned to the cowbell girl that it was my birthday too. So of course they did it again, and at the finish, one of the percussionists came over, threw her cymbals to the ground at my feet and bowed. I hooted and applauded, and the band, Brooklyn’s riotous Hungry March Band (for a WMP sample, go here) are playing tonight and tomorrow here as part of a European tour. So it’s a date, then.
As for the footy, Germany's Lukas Podolski has been named the best Young Player of the tournament, and FIFA released the shortlist for the Golden Ball award given to the World Cup's most outstanding player. I don't have a vote, but if I did I'd go with Fabio Cannavaro, Italy’s stalwart defender and, for my money, the most influential player here. Here’s the field, feel free to tell me I’m wrong and you’re right with your choice:

Thierry Henry, France
Patrick Vieira, France
Zinedine Zidane, France
Michael Ballack, Germany
Miroslav Klose, Germany
Fabio Cannavaro, Italy
Gianluigi Buffon, Italy
Andrea Pirlo, Italy
Gianluca Zambrotta, Italy
Maniche, Portugal

Day 28: Two More Canadians at the World Cup

BERLIN, Germany

Ageism: 60 Mundial years (a day, and a World Cup trophy fridge magnet handed to me at the Berlin Fan Mile)
Pallor: Rested (relatively speaking)
Forecast: 35C outside (36C in hotel room)

A lot of things have happened in the shadow of the Brandenburg Gate. Kennedy gave his famous speech. The wall came tumbling down. And yesterday, two Canadians defended national honour and a well-fortified lifestyle at World Cup Karaoke.
This all went down after I’d walked the Berlin Fan Mile, the street that splits the Tiergarten between the Gate and the Victory Column with big-screen TVs and a bewildering array of activities and souvenir and food and beer concessions. There are sand sculptures and a white-sand beach for volleyball. A ferris wheel. Kick a ball into a hole and win a car. A rest area run by an evangelical Christian group, next to a young women getting the Portuguese flag painted on her bare breasts. The usual stuff.

ARMANDO FRANCA/AP

More history going down at Brandenburg Gate.

By the time I wandered from top to the stage set up under the gate, they were getting to karaoke. Four teams were introduced: a foursome of women from Frankfurt; four guys from Berlin; five from Hamburg; two from Toronto.
“Toronto? What are you doing here?” asked the emcee.
“We just got in last night,” said one of the Canadians, and he turned to the crowd. “We’ve only been here one day, BUT IT’S THE BEST DAY OF OUR LIVES! YEAH!”
The emcee looked like he was about to burst. He looked like Monty Hall next to some guy from Houston who’s wetting his pants with excitement in a chicken drumstick suit.
“Vive la FRANCE!” yelled one of the Canadian.
“For-ca Port-u-GAL!” yelled the other, making sure to exhibit the proper Canadian inclusivess.
Then it was time for the competition. The Hamburgers did something I didn’t recognize, or if I did it was so mangled I couldn’t tell. The Berliners, the main one wrapped in the Germany flag, did 54 74 90 2006 and although they were kinda standstill they were not bad at that (it's really a gimme putt, that one). The Frankfurters stumbled YMCA, the Canadians doing the Egyptian dance around them. Then it was Canada’s turn: Of course, it was Eye of the Tiger. They slayed ‘em, a karaoke Mick ‘n Keith prancing around and preening. By this time, at around 7 pm, two hours before kickoff, the place was beginning to fill up, too.
“Let’s hear it for Canada!” screamed the emcee, and they were giving it to them. Then he turned to them. “Just in case you need it, guys, I’m going to invite you for a beer.”
It was time to vote, and of course the Canadians got the loudest cheer. The prize was two official World Cup soccer balls – but wait, the Berliner guy with the flag didn’t hear the difference in cheers! He’s not leaving the stage until they have a cheer-off! The emcee shakes his head but the crewcutted guy is adamant and one of his partners, wearing a bandana and an eye patch with a diamond stud in his ear so big I can see it from 20 metres away, looking like Yohoho and a bottle of Pils, is leaning in over his shoulder, nodding and backing him up. So the emcee relents. It’s a cheer-off.
“SCHEISS!” yells Sonia, a goth-pallored Berliner leaning over the railing at the front of the stage. “All is Scheiss! The Canadians won! Fair and square!”
She turns to me. She’s on rollerblades – I’d interviewed her earlier for today’s petroleum-based contribution – and she is tall and thin with a silver stud in her nose and jet black hair. “They are cheating your Canadians. You are a reporter. You should do something!”
I just nod my head, take my pencil out, and write something down, anything. What else can I do? It’s not like there’s karaoke police or anything.
At the cheer-off, of course the Germans win. They have noisemakers and horns. I have no voice left – literally, I lost it three days ago – but I try and squeak out something to add for the Maple Leaf forever. Just to say I tried.
The emcee intervenes! It’s a tie! One ball to each, and a bag of official sponsor swag! An international incident averted. "It's still scheiss," says Sonia.
I catch up with the Canadians at the security entrance to the stage: Andrei Gropper, from Bathurst and Eglinton, a business student at Western, and Raphi Aronowicz, from Yonge and York Mills, economics at McGill. Both 20 years old, backpacking around Europe, having landed in England on July 1. Just got into Berlin last night, and watched Italy-Germany at a bar near where they’re staying.
“My mom’s from Italy, and I go down to St. Clair since ’94 for every Italy game during the World Cup,” says Andrei. “I was cheering pretty hard for them. I was the only guy in the place for Italy.”
Yesterday they came down to the Brandenburg Gate just to see the place, wandered into the Fanfest and some guy asked them if they wanted to do this – perhaps the matching T-shirts that say “Euro 2006 – Shift it into Sixth Gear” tipped them off.
“We had some nerves,” explained Raphi. “I’ve never seen so many people in one spot. We knew we’d blow away the competition because we had so much alcohol in our system.”
“It wasn’t that much,” says Andrei. “We only had a couple beers. Maybe four or five.”
“Yeah, but remember before we got here.”
“Oh yeah, right.”
As I’m talking to them, the German guys come out clutching their soccer ball. “It’s good fun,” says Yohoho, shaking the Canadians’ hands.
They walk away. “That’s our ball,” says Andrei, pointing.

Semi No. 2: The pome

Yes, I'm a little late, so sorry Ray Skyrme. Time for the latest from Ray-Ray, and it's a gut one:

1 FRA v POR 0

Shed a tear for pobre Portugal,
Losing thus in the semifinal.
Para o desventurado
Canta, Amalia, um fado,
Violoncelo, um lamento estival.

Grâce à Thuram, Barthez, Ribéry,
La France gagne la deuxième demi.
Lisbon wasn’t outmanned,
Just plain Zizou Zidaned!
Beware the True Blues, Italie!

Zizou Zidaned.Brilliant.

The Song of the World Cup

I've riffed a few times in here on the mostly crappy/anodyne music and videos that are played in the stadiums -- not just here, but at any Euro or previous Mundial. But here's one I've been saving that's got something going from the heart, from Bavarian band Sportfreunde Stiller.

I first heard this song early on while travelling on the train, and again and again since in the same setting. It's a great terrace singalong, and in the stadiums whenever Deutschland play you hear it at least once or twice during matches, someone in a Germany shirt counting off "Ein-Schwein-Drei!" to start it off, and everyone joins in with gusto.

Now that Germany's out of the final at the last hurdle, I'm throwing it up as a salute to the Mannschaft. They sure have been fun to watch -- I never had really seen Philipp Lahm before this, and what a dynamic little package he is to watch out for in the coming years. Likewise, Miroslav Klose seems certain to be going to one of the big Euro leagues some day soon.

Here it is -- quite charming and instantly likable. If anyone can give me a translation, send it along and I'll post it as an update.

UPDATE

Well, that was fast. Big props to e-mailer Markus Weigl for sending along a quick translation of the Sportfreunde Stiller song "54 74 90 2006" -- er, forget to mention that, and if you're wondering about the sequence those first three numbers refer to Germany's three World Cup titles -- and adds the comment that "if it had bagpipes would sound like one of those amazing Scotch anthems. Agreed, Markus. Over to you:

54 74 90 2006

1 and 2 and 3 and '54, '74, '90, 2006
Yes, we all join in
With hearts in our hands and passion in our legs
We will be the world champions

We don't exactly have the greatest sporting culture
We're not exactly filigrees
But we have dreams and visions
And a master plan up our sleeves.
The motto for our long journey out of crisis
And out of depression
goes: Nothing but up onto the football-throne!

1 and 2 and 3 and '54, '74, '90, 2006
Yes, we all join in
With hearts in our hands and passion in our legs
We will be the world champions

The whole world is grasping for the golden cup
But only one will hold on to it
Now that's the way it is
The whole world is playing itself crazy
But the cup stays in our land.
1 and 2 and 3 and '54, '74, '90, 2006
Yes, we all join in
With hearts in our hands and passion in our legs
We will be the world champions

The first time it was a miracle,
The second time it was luck
The third time it was an earned reward
And this time it'll be a sensation!

1 and 2 and 3 and '54, '74, '90, 2006
Yes, we all join in
With hearts in our hands and passion in our legs
We will be the world champions

'54, '74, '90, 2006
Yes, we all join in
With hearts in our hands and passion in our legs
We will be the world champions

Day 27: Touchdown in Berlin

BERLIN, Germany

Ageism: 58 Mundial years (a day, a match, another T-shirt, another Azzurri press guide, and the railway redeye to Berlin)
Pallor: Ashen
Forecast: Sleep

Crazy night in Dortmund last night. Wicked game, wicked seats (Westfalenstadion’s media tribune is about the best in the whole World Cup), wicked backache from the seats, write a column as if on deadline to catch a train that turns out to be 40 mionutes late leaving because the station is so crowded. Bora Milutinovic.
Yes, Bora. I rounded the corner out of the SMC headed to my seats, and there he was, Bora. He’s so well traveled I had to enter a receiving line, for pete’s sake. And so it went, Bora shaking hands with one and all.
“Japan? Hello Japan. I love Japan.”
“Mexico. Buenos dias. I know Mexico. I am Mexican.”
“China. Ah yes. I am Chinese, you know?”

Bora coach no more.

Like that. Then he comes to me.
Canada. Always stops ‘em dead. Usually they’ll say something like, “you have football in Canada?” with a hesitant look on their face, but instead of explaining the intricacies of three downs, the rouge and Ricky Williams I cut right to the chase and answer that we’re not very succesful at this World Cup thing, but we’re great at the World Cup parties.
I never get that far with Bora. I say hello, Toronto says hello, and remember that afternoon in the currency exchange at the Seoul press centre four years ago, we both had travellers’ cheques to cash? Of course he does.
Why don’t you come to Canada, we need a coach for Canada, I say.
“No, no, I coach no more,” he says. “Too difficult. When I see how difficult watching these guys, I like to be here instead.”
We sure could use you.
“Yes, thank you, I know.”
Good to see Bora again. Even if I’m never sure if he’s kidding or not. Or even what he's saying, half the time.
And about that game. For better or for verse, here’s Ray Skyrme’s take, and man, I gotta get out my Google translator. Take it away, Ray:

0 GER v ITA 2

German fans leave Dortmund in dismay,
Knowing well their team fought all the way.
On Unter den Linden
Keinen Freude sie finden.
(Has their coach signed to coach USA?)

Gli Azzurri sono nella Gloria!
Grosso, then del Piero—euphoria!
Their goalkeeper, Buffon,
Cannot be scored upon
(Così sembra. Ma segue la storia.)

Atta go Ray. I’m going to head up to the Tiergarten now and get my bearings a little.

Today's game

France 1, Portugal 0. Zidane (who else?) scores on a penalty set up by a Carvalho foul on Henry in the box in the 33rd minutes. Not even Fabien Barthez could give it away from there, the 'keeper's flub of a Cristian Ronaldo free kick that bounced to Luis Figo who headed over the bar among the best Portuguese chances in the second half. So it's France vs Italy in the final -- edge to Italy thanks to their defence, but the French are playing so well it's hard to count them right out.

Pregame tension at the Half-Final

DORTMUND, Germany

Things are getting pretty tense here as we count it down to tonight's semifinal, or as they call it on the continent, the Half-Final. So tense, in fact, that home-country fans have planned some pretty heavy retaliatory strikes after Sky Italia TV footage out of the Argentina-Germany aftermath resulted in a hasty FIFA railroading disciplinary hearing and a suspension to key Mannschaft midfielder Torsten Frings (if that punch could have broke a pane of wet kleenex, then I'm Diego Maradona's love child). They're actually considering -- get this -- phoning local Italian restaurants at the 9 p.m. kickoff and placing large orders! Like Rooney, I'm gobsmacked.

Here's some excerpts from Der Spiegel Online's World Cup blog (no permalink, alas), one of the millions of news organizations here that have added blogs (but not this one, I assure you. JABS was barely ticking over well down the road to mediocrity adulthood long before this World Cup was even a gleam in Juergen Klinsmann's eye):

Andreas Wenzel has announced the games of the German national team for the past 13 years. But he was briefly suspended by FIFA for not remaining neutral when addressing the 70,000-strong crowd in Berlin's Olympic Stadium last Friday. As Germany was trailing Argentina 1-0 in the second half, Wenzel announced a substitution in English. However, as he repeated it in German, he apparently couldn't keep himself from telling the home crowd that "our team could use your support right now." The seemingly harmless comment got a response from the fans and, naturally, FIFA.
(Snip)
But what will happen at tonight's match-up? Earlier today I got a forwarded e-mail from my friend Maike, which ordered fans of the German national team to dial the number of their favorite Italian place promptly at first whistle at 9 p.m. and place a large order. The spoiler tactic is a small measure of revenge for FIFA's decision to bar German midfield star Torsten Frings from tonight's game -- a decision some Germans believe was set into motion with the help of TV footage helpfully provided by broadcaster Sky Italia.
"No Frings? No watching the game together Squadra Azzuri!" went the spoilsport e-mail.