I appear to be the death knell for teams in this year's World Cup. I began with Algeria (not one goal scored) who dropped out of the group stages in the dying moments. This was capped by not being able to find one single Algerian in Toronto. I'm sure they're out there, but I sure couldn't find them.
I'll hang my hat on the fact that I met a Moroccan woman that was cheering for them, and a bunch of people that I met that swear that they'd heard of "Albania or whatever the hell country you're writing about".
Nice job.
Next up, was the USA. Having already advanced out of the groups, I was asked to cover their success from the Final 16 onwards. So, hats off to Ghana who provided me a dandy work shortcut. USA! On Your Way! At least I was able to find some actual Americans in this city. And it only took a tacky sports bar to make that happen.
So, what's the next country whose citizens I badger to find out more about their culture? Step forward Germany. This should be a no-brainer. I actually know Germans in the city and add to this the first match I get to cover is Germany v. England in the Final 16. Yes! Brilliant!
However, if my history of covering teams in this tournament is anything to go by, if I were the team manager, I'd be seeing if I could put tickets to Munich on Monday on stand-by. Why? Because I have decided to pay attention to you and as a result, you are doomed to advance about as far as Canada in this tournament.
The beauty about a Germany v. England match is the lemon-rind bitter rivalry. These two teams have apparently hated each other for ages and the matches are always a fantastic display of hope and fury. A small bit of research returns the fact that a lot of Germans will be watching this match at The Musket on Advance Road in Etobicoke. In the early hours of Sunday, I slide on the only German shirt I own (a Hertha Berlin top) and head to the West End.
"Right, mate. Hide your Three Lions Shirt..."
I arrive well over an hour before kick-off and already I see queues forming to get inside and parking already appearing desperate. Already I'm greeted by German adherence to rules and order when I'm ordered out of the Dimpflmeier Bakery parking lot by a small elderly gentleman who merely waves his fingers at me, points to the sign indicating "Customer Parking Only" and then shrugs his shoulders. This would never have happened if I was driving a VW.
Upon entering The Musket, the place is already packed and I find the only chair in the entire establishment in the company of three generations of German men; grandfather, father, grandsons. Brilliant.
I ask if the last seat is available and they beckon me in. I attribute it to my team-formerly-in-the-Bundesliga shirt. I'm immediately asked "Are you a reporter?" So I guess I don't look German. Or failing that, I look like the sort of guy that's going to ask you an annoyingly large number of questions. Instead of trying to explain the difference between a "blog" and a "printed article", I simply say "yes".
I now look forward to meeting genuine journalists at their meetings or whatever the hell they are, take your abuse, and buy you all a Diet Sprite. It's a white lie. Deal.
I ask the men at the table if they also cheer not only for Germany but also any German club sides. The two grandsons support Bayern Munich, which makes sense, them being by far and away the most famous of the sides. The grandfather says he supports a horrible team, Hertha Berlin. I smile and point to the crest of my Hertha Berlin shirt. The elder at the table winces and asks "Why would you cheer for them, they're awful?" I'll be honest; they were from Berlin and the colours were that of Rangers. Not the best reason, but that's the one I've got.
"Dudes. I can see your England tops under your Kraftwerk hoodies..."
The more I get to talk to this Toronto-based German family, the more I realize that they are not just fair-weather German fans. They truly enjoy the game of football. The one grandson plays for the Ontario Under-21 side. Impressive. So this must be a table that understands the rivalry between Germany and England, a rivalry almost as old as the World Cup itself.
When I ask if the rivalry against England is as hostile with the German people as the English seem to hold it, I'm told "Real fans watch the beauty. No fan cares about the fighting." Nods from his kin all around. So, as far as this table is concerned, England bigs this contest up to shopping-the-day-before-Christmas intensity. Germany it seems couldn't be arsed.
Two things hit me as I sit among the fans in attendance. First, being the sheer number of people that have filed into The Musket since I got in. It is now standing room only and I did truly get the last seat.
In my "You're not from around here" paranoia, I can't help but think that at some point I'll be asked to leave on account of being as German as the sushi chef at Nami. Thankfully, that will probably not happen since I am in buying pitchers of lager from Munich with the German three-Gen'ers.
Secondly, people's support of the World Cup varies as much as their knowledge of it. I'm in the company of four men who appreciate the game, see its elegance, who nod in appreciation when they see that Germany is countering England's 4-4-2 formation with a 4-5-1 giving Klose the lone sniper role. We discuss this over sips of beer appreciatively.
This is painfully contrasted like a Morning Zoo DJ jarring you from a dream involving you and the female Dutch Bavaria-dress-wearing models by the person beside you who obviously doesn't know that soccer is most commonly known as "football" and is truly just along for the patriotic ride.
I may be quick to judge here, but the fact that I'm asked about the offside rule ("Do they have to go back behind the halfway line to get onside?"), the concept of 'extra time' ("Half an hour? Well...that's just way too long. They should shorten it"), and of course fouls ("Is the black card the worst one?"). I half want to ask how they think each side will fare in the swimsuit competition.
During the national anthems, they show Mick Jagger in attendance at the match. He is blithely signing autographs, smiling and cajoling with fellow fans, hardly aware about what is to happen.
The first 10 minutes show the match as a clumsy affair, neither Germany nor England playing like they want to be creative or challenging for fear of a mistake. This lasts not much longer as Germany shows more elegance creeping into their game, more "1-2" passes connecting and possession solidifying.
Come the 21st minute, everything stops and gets loud. Klose takes a single shot from the keeper and shoulder-barges his way through the England defence like a man negotiating a subway turnstile. The ball is slotted past Calamity James and suddenly my ears are ringing like I'm wearing vuvuzela earmuffs. Germany are 1-0 to the good and I take this opportunity to buy a replacement pitcher for the table. It's the least a reporter could do.
In so doing, I run into Helmut, the owner of The Musket who I surmise will be played by Max Von Sydow when the movie of this day is made.
By the time I return to the table with fresh beer, Germany are playing more fluidly. England by contrast are a team chasing it and not doing so very well. Come the 33rd minute, the ball pokes through the England net again, 2-0 Germany.
At this point it becomes violently clear that England are a shambles at the back, four men incapable of handling a single lone striker with a small supporting cast. The England defence has become so porous it should be used to drain pasta. One-third of the match gone and Germany finding their footing.
When the 37th minute goal by England is scored, it is met by silence, save the two or three England fans that found their way inside the very-pro-German bar. Bravery and stupidity. Never has a combination been so visible. Well, outside of the Black Bloc.
Hey, England. See that green stuff? That's "space". It's desired.
Next up: 38th minute goal and the call that wasn't. We've seen this moment replayed more times than all of the other goals in the World Cup combined. And I'm also going back to the Pele years. Lampard took a screaming shot at the German net, hit the crossbar, the ball went into the net and bounced out, no goal called.
From that point on, the Germans in attendance knew that a bullet was dodged and they got away with something awful. Maybe it was that, or perhaps they were just preparing themselves for the years and years now of England fans complaining it was over the line.
You know what? Use this as the opportunity to finally call "Karma!" on the Geoff Hirst goal 40+ years before. It's done. Tit-for-tat. Forget it. But probably not a chance of that. Halftime features an English-accented pundit screaming for FIFA to install video validation of all goals? Why now? Oh, because it's England. Were South Korea denied a pure chance like this, would mention be made? Nope. Once again, I think of Leaf fans...
The second half begins and in my mind there's no way that this score can stand in order to bring about a degree of fairness for all involved. A clear and out-and-out winner has to be defined. England appear to be well up to the task, firing chance after chance at the German goal, the defence and keeper soaking up the pressure with relative ease. So much so, I hate to turn to my notepad to take notes.
Finally the dam bursts. 3-1 and missed England goal or not, it's academic from here on in. England are truly beaten, sink holes appearing in the defence allowing Germany to notch their fourth goal of the game.
Two minutes of added time and that's that. The Germans advance, the English call for Capello's resignation. A day of definite contrasts. The Germans showed themselves as a team with youth, vigour, and support of a well-honed, well-groomed structure. The English team that of a collection of egos forced into ill-shaped holes. How the German side will fare against the likes of a talent-clogged sided managed by a maniac is anyone's guess.
A quick shot of the stands shows a very dejected Mick Jagger. He of all people should know you can't always get what you want. I feel the same way. I have to leave before I can order a sausage and sauerkraut. At least with this team I'm covering, I get a second chance.
"So who's next? Argentina? Are they good?"
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