A recap from Spain on our blog's new home

Who knows if anyone will ever read this...

But I thought it was time that our blog moved from its original home on www.huschka.com/blog to its own little spot in cyberspace.

I've move all our original posts from the World Cup, our England soccer tour and our latest trip across the pond for the USA's match at Wembley in late May.

So, it's been awhile since the USA's match against Spain. I wish I'd blogged right away, but I'm going to try to reconstruct my memories from that game.

After the game versus England, Amy and I hung around London until Saturday. On Thursday night, we swung by Craven Cottage for Ireland's match versus Columbia. It was a spirited match that Ireland won on an early deflected goal. Only some great Irish goalkeeping kept Columbia from drawing (or even winning) the match.

As die-hard Fulham fans, the highlight of the match might have been when the PA announced said: "Remember to purchase your Fulham season tickets -- when we'll again be hosting Premier League football next year. You don't know how happy I am to be saying that." That drew a chuckle from the crowd.

Sunday morning, Amy and I parted ways -- after staying up until 4 a.m. AGAIN to watch Game 4 of the Stanley Cup finals. We actually took naps between period breaks. Immediately after the game was over, I had to catch a flight to Germany where I was going to spend a few days with my friend Chuck who's teaching this summer in Leipzig.

After two days of drinking German beer, I caught an early flight Wednesday morning to Bilboa. From there, I needed to catch a bus to Santander. I quickly learned that NO ONE in norther Spain speaks English. (I know about three words in Spanish.) Still, it proved fairly easy to get to the bus station and buy a ticket to Santander. The only mistake I made was I didn't know that the buses had assigned seating and got booted from my seat. Fortunately, the guy who had my seat spoke English (and was in fact going to game.)

Once I got to Santander, I proceeded to quickly get lost while looking for my hotel. I ran across a tourist information center and once I again discovered the value of an iPhone. By showing the Google map location of my hotel on my iPhone screen to the nice woman at the counter, she was able to give me directions.

After checking in, I decided to begin the hour-long walk over to the stadium. I knew if I just walked along the bay, I'd eventually run into the stadium. The view of the high cliffs towering over the surf was stunning. The air was cool but not cold. A wonderful day for a walk.


And then I heard a huge rumble tear across the water. Above me, Spanish fighter jets performed an incredible Blue Angels-style air show. A massive crowd had gathered along the cliffs to watch.

After the show, I continued my trek. But I hadn't expect such a crowd. A few folks began to notice my U.S.A. jersey. Some pointed. Others gave me a few dirty looks. But I encountered no outward hostility.

The plan was to meet a few fellow American fans at an Irish pub along the beach across from the stadium. But (and, are you sensing a trend here) I couldn't find it. Then, I turned around and ran into fellow American, Robert from Amsterdam, who I'd met the week before at the England game.

With his help, we located the pub. First, we went to the upstairs bar. As we walked in, we noticed nearly every person was wearing a Spain jersey -- and it seem like every head turned to look at us. We were looking for food as well as drink, but the bar tender indicated that food could only be found on the lower lever.

Fortunately, downstairs was a bit more quiet (and less hostile.) But still no food, just some crappy bar nuts that, in our hungry, we quickly devoured. Two more Americans showed up, but Robert and I decided to head over to the stadium early since he needed to pick up his ticket from will call.

Around the stadium, we walked in a cool, light rain through a fan fest surrounding the stadium. A few fans stop to take pictures with us visiting Americans. The centerpiece of the festival was a large white tent, featuring a tribute to Spanish football and the European Championships.

Amsterdam Robert quickly retrieved his tickets, and we headed into the stadium in search of food. The concourse of the stadium was pretty typical of European stadiums: dark, concrete, smelly walkways. But we found a sandwich stand, and, despite my limit Spanish, was able to snare a baguette with pepperoni. (Something, Spaniards would serve me over and over during my two day stay. Apparently, the Spanish think American like pepperoni.)

Our seats were in the second level of the stadium, just above one of the corner flags. A few U.S. supporters were already in the stands. There was no security separating our section from Spanish supporters -- which I took as a sign that no one was expecting even a bit of trouble. I ate my sandwich.

As more Americans arrived, we chanted and sang. The Spanish fans around us mostly laughed and took pictures.

Thankfully, the US played better than they had a week before in London. Also, security didn't care that we stood the whole match. The fans around us seemed to enjoy our antis. A few teens behind three some sunflower seeds at us. But we mostly ignored them.

Eventually, a late, inevitable (and pretty impressive) goal from Spain cost the U.S. a tie.

With Amsterdam Robert's help, we caught a bus back toward the hotel. And I quickly crashed, finishing a long

Robert versus England

(Originally posted May 31, 2008)

On Tuesday morning, after another loooong night with the Red Wings, we were in no hurry to get up. Unfortunately, before learning the playoff schedule, I had booked tickets to see the Doctor Who Exhibit in south London at 11:30 in the morning. (No sci-fi nerd’s trip to England would be complete without this experience!)

The alarm burned my head when it went off and I started getting ready. I was stunned when Amy actually woke and came with me. The exhibit itself was cool. Lots of neat displays of actual props from the series. Plus, Amy took my picture with Daleks, Cybermen and even the Face of Bo!

After the Doctor Who, we headed back to the room and grabbed a quick nap.

Then, we had a decision to make: We had to pick between the two separate soccer events going on Tuesday at the same time. The U.S. Soccer Federation had set up a fan party at a bar/restaurant at the O2 complex. However, a soccer match between fans of the U.S. and England teams had been scheduled at a field near Wembley. I was really torn. I desperately wanted to play in the game, but didn’t want to miss anything cool at O2.

The friendly match was set up as basically two games. In the first half, those 35 and older played our rivals. In the second half, those under 35 took their turn. Total score at the end won the match. Amy suggested that we go to the fan match so I could play in the first half and then catch the 40-minute train ride down to the O2 to catch the end of the USA party.

I’m so glad she suggested this, because the fan match was an incredible experience. The England fans treated it like a real game. They lined up the players and played both teams’ national anthems. They also presented us with a banner commemorating the match. They wore white. We wore red shirts donated by U.S. Soccer.

Watching England warm up, I figured we were in for some real trouble. There were some big lads on their team, and, it appeared, a lot of skill. If there was any good news, it was the many of their over 35 players looked much older than 35. Most of our senior team was under 40. Also, strangely, two of their players decided to play the game wearing medieval knights costumes. The ref made them take off their red capes.

I lined up at right back, really, really nervous. I just didn’t want our team to embarrass itself. The game started out slow, but suddenly England mounted their first assault. Three quick passes and a blast that smashed off the post. Over the next couple minutes, they had two or three great chances but our keeper made some point-blank saves to keep us level.

Then, we caught them on a counter. We fired a pass across the box that got pounded into the back of the England net. We were up 1-0!

The rest of the game went much the same way. England probably hit the post 10 times. Seriously. Our keeper was incredible, saving us again and again – before we caught them on a break again to go up 2-0.
England got annoyed but began to tire a bit. The striker I was marking had to be 60 years old. When I lined up against him on corner kicks, he was breathing so hard that I thought he was going to have a heart attack. His age didn’t stop him from going around me a couple of times.

During the half, the Englishman who set up the match used a bullhorn to make good-natured jibes at the Yanks. Funny how he got quieter as England fell behind.

England converted a penalty kick, but we came right back and pressed them again. The ball smacked into their keeper and slipped across the goal line. But there was no call from the ref or the linesman! We appealed for the goal but the ref yelled to play on. But, in the classiest move of the match, one of the England players went to the ref and told him the ball had crossed the line. The goal was awarded.

Finally, our half ended after what seemed like 1,000 years. We had done our job, winning our half 4-3. We learned the next day that American youth team won it’s half 3-0! USA had beaten England 7-3! Apparently, the England players seemed a bit embarrassed by this.

The England players presented us with a bag with an England hat, an England pin and pen and a photo card of English players and their signatures. Amy really liked this gift. It was truly a nice gesture.

I got dressed and Amy and I caught the train down to the O2, luckily a direct shot. We got there around 9:15, and only 4 or 5 people were still there. We have no idea if there was much going on early. But it didn’t look like it was too exciting. We’d certainly made the right choice going to the fan game.

We had dinner at an Italian restaurant at the O2 before retiring back to our flat.

The next day: the real USA vs. England in Wembley.

(Not) Singing in the Rain

(Originally published May 26th, 2008)

Ok, we didn’t go to the spa today. The plan had been to get up early and take a train to the city of Bath and go to a spa build over a hot spring used by the ancient Romans.

Two problems: 1.) We didn’t get up early. 2) It was pouring rain.

So, we decided to hang around London. We took a train down to Tower Bridge and pondered going to the Tower of London. But much of the Tower is outside so we stopped at a cute pub for lunch and hoped the rain would pass. It didn’t.

Then, we headed over to the British Museum of Natural History. Amy typically hates museums, but I convinced her to try it. Unfortunately, it was an England bank holiday, so the museum was hot and packed. We did get a quick look at the life-sized blue whale model I remembered seeing as a child before bolting back into the rain.

Next, Amy, of course, needed new, more sensible shoes. First, we went to the world’s largest department stores, Harrods. (Which just happens to be owned by Mohammed Al-Fayad, who also owns the renowned Fulham Football Club!) The shoes there were all a small fortune. So, we stopped at a few more stores and got her some new stylish black and pink Adidas sneakers. We also picked up a better umbrella – a tougher one, better suited to the wind and rain of the British Isles.

We headed back to our little flat, rested for a bit and then grabbed a late bite at an Asian/Indonesian fusion restaurant. Delicious but pricey. Amy was thrilled because the food tasted like something her grandmother used to make. (In fact, we are burning through money in England! The exchange rate is killing us.)

Now, we are waiting for the Stanley Cup Game 2 to begin. Good news: It’s on nationwide TV tonight in Britain so we can watch from our room. Bad news: It’s on at 1 a.m. We’ve stocked up on Red Bull and Absolut and are prepping for a late night.

Tomorrow, I’ve got a difficult decision to make. I was planning to play in a soccer game that England and U.S. soccer fans had set up on Tuesday night. But U.S. soccer has also schedule a party at some swanky bar AT EXACTLY the same time. Aaargh! What should I do??????

Go Wings!

American hockey fans in London

(Originally published May 25, 2008)

Greetings from London!

I’ve begun my two-week odyssey across Europe. Amy and I are in London for a week to watch the US National Team play England on Wednesday at Wembley.

Then Amy heads home, while I fly over to Germany to visit my friend Chuck, who is teaching in Leipzig. Also, during that second week, I’m going to take a quick trip over to Spain to catch the US play a soccer game in Santander.

Yesterday was the world’s longest day. Took the overnight flight from Detroit to Gatwick. Caught the train out to the small, but cute flat we are renting in West London. Amy — as some of you may know — is a crazed Red Wings fan. The Wings, of course, are in the Stanley Cup finals this week. That game began at 8 p.m. Detroit time — that’s 1 a.m. here in London. Amy was desperate to find a place to watch it.

So, after getting to our flat, we took a three-hour nap, then headed downtown to see if we could find a spot to watch the finals.

Our first stop was the Maple Leaf, a Canadian pub that has Labatts on tap! A big sign outfront proclaimed that they served CANADIAN food. What exactly is that, eh?

Unfortunately, the Maple Leaf staff said the pub didn’t get permission for the liquor authorities to stay open late enough for the game.

So, we headed over the Sports Cafe, an incredibly loud establishment that’s a bizarre combination of dance club and American sports bar. It’s just down the road from Trafalger Square and I’d been there before during some earlier stops in London to catch NFL games.

We got to the bar just after they stop serving food, so dinner consistent of a healthy diet of vodka and Red Bull.

Fortunatley, the head bouncer was married to a Canadian and is apparently a big hockey fan — albiet a Penguins supporter. So, he set up the few hockey fans up in one of the sidebars and turned up the sound for us. Amy put on her Zetterberg jersey and we had a blast watching the Wings win 4-0.

The game got over around 4 a.m. — and I hadn’t realized that the tube actually shut down that late. The rain had begun to come down and we were forced to catch a $40 cab ride back to our place — a small price in Amy’s mind for watching her hockey victory.

Days 5, 6 and 7: A little soccer, a little rest, a little Shakespeare

(Originally published April 13, 2007)

After surviving our thrilling Champions League match on Tuesday, we spent a quiet day walking and shopping in Manchester. I discovered that the local science museum had a Doctor Who exhibit, but by the time Amy and I wondered over there they were OUT OF TICKETS for the day. Still, I got my picture taken with the TARDIS. How cool am I?

That night, we watched a couple Champions League matches at a 500-year-old bar across from our hotel.

Thursday morning, we toured Manchester United’s stadium, Old Trafford. We got to walk down to the field and sit in the box where the coaches and players sit during the games. We even got to walk though the locker room — which actually had no lockers. Amy got to sit in the spot where another one of her “boyfriends” Cristiano Ronaldo gets ready before each match.

After the tour, we took the bus to Stratford-Upon-Avon, the birthplace of William Shakespeare, where we stayed Thursday and Friday.

Thursday afternoon, we wandered along the river and through the quaint center of town. We passed by Shakespeare’s birthplace and ate dinner at cute little pub. That night, we watched a match on TV at small local bar that seemed to love having bunch of rowdy Americans. We asked the owner when he was closing and he said “Whenever you are done drinking.” We were there late — probably too late.

We slept and slept the next day, missing our free breakfast. But we grabbed a quick bite at McDonald’s and headed off to do some souvenir shopping.

In the afternoon, we met up with a bunch of our American buds to actually play a little soccer. Right next to our hotel is a huge sports complex with tennis courts, a skate board arena and small soccer fields. They only cost 10 pounds an hour to rent. The surface was artificial, but incredibly soft. One of the guys described it like the surface of a tennis ball. I played for more than two hours and more and more of our friends arrived. (Amy didn’t bring any shorts so she didn’t play.) Eventually, just as were about to call it quits, our tour director Nick — a onetime coach with the Columbus Crew — showed about and ran us into the ground for another 20 minutes. We’re all going to be sore tomorrow.

On Friday night, we got standing room tickets to watch Macbeth at the Swan Theatre for only 5 pounds a piece. (Fortunately, standing room didn’t quit mean “standing.” We had a small bench we could sit. But to really see the show, you pretty much had to be on your feet. It was a striking, bloody performance. Really, really graphic. I felt bad for some of the kids in the audience who had been dragged by their parents.

Tomorrow, we’re off to our last soccer game in Birmingham, an FA Cup semifinal game between Manchester United and Watford. Then, it’s back to London for one last night in England before our flight home Sunday afternoon. We don’t want to go back yet!

Day 4: The worst and best of the world’s game

(Originally posted April 11, 2007)

Champions League: Manchester United 7, Roma 1

Wow. What an unbelievable day…

But first a little background: A week ago, Manchester United played what is called the first leg of their Champions League game again AS Roma in the Olympic Stadium in Rome. (In this stage of the Champions League, teams play an opponent both home and away. At the end of the two matches, the team with the highest goal total from both games advances.) At the game in Rome, United fans were basically attacked by Roman security in the stands during the match. Who knows who started what, but it was fairly ugly. Roma supporters also clashed with United fans before the game, which Roma won 2-1. So, we knew the game Tuesday night would be a bit intense.

We spent much of the day on a bus from London to Manchester. It was actually a nice rest from the hectic days we’ve had so far. Amy and I slept most of the way.

After arriving in Manchester around 2, we spent a bit of time wandering the city. We needed some cash and I’d left our AC converter back at the hotel in London. We found the cash but not the converter.

We headed back to a pub near our hotel and sampled the local brews and had some tasty meat pies for dinner.

Once back at the hotel, we readied ourselves for the nighttime match. We learned by watching the BBC that Roma and Man U fans had already clashed outside the stadium, Old Trafford. We had no idea what “clash” really meant.

So the anxiety of our group was a bit high as we boarded the bus for Old Trafford. It was bit of a quiet ride over to the historic stadium. Our tour guides warned us to make our way inside as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, we knew we’d be sitting near the Roma fans, (visiting fans are segregated away from home fans at European soccer stadiums), so our guides seemed concerned about our path into the ground.

Their fears proved to be valid. As we made its way toward Old Trafford, we saw a group of Roma fans, surrounded by a police escort, signing and chanting as they approached the ground. Suddenly, angry hooligan Man U fans, some with their faces covered, started pelting the Roma fans with bottles and who knows what.

Police, some on foot, others on horses, charged into the area. Our group scattered in all different directions to avoid the chaos. One very nice English gentlemen tried to pull Amy and I behind a large sign to keep us safe. But we didn’t want to lose one of our tour leaders so we ran past the police line that was converging on the area. We caught up with one guide as things began to calm down a bit. He recommended that we walk completely around the stadium to get to our entrance rather than walk back through the Roma fans. This proved to be a good suggestion. Things seemed much quieter as we made our way around.

I asked Amy if she was scared and wanted to go back to the hotel. But she just shook her head, and we entered historic Old Trafford.

Once inside, things were much calmer. Old Trafford is called “The Theatre of Dreams” and it certainly lived up to that reputation. The stadium is gorgeous. Certainly a cathedral to the greatness of Manchester United.

Still, it was tense. There were two sections of Roma fans, one above us just to our left, and another two sections over on our right. I worried that if things got ugly we would get pelted by flying objects.

Before the match, the Roma fans were already LOUD, singing with choreographed movements.

However, as the Man U fans filtered in, they began to drown out the Roma supporters.

As the game got underway, we became engrossed in the match, and our earlier scare slipped out of our mind.

Quickly, Man U scored an incredible goal from Michael Carrick. After than, there was no stopping the Reds. Goal after goal hit the back of the net. If Cristiano Ronaldo is not the best player in the world, I don’t know who is.

In the blink of an eye, it was 4-0 Man U. The fans at Old Trafford grew louder every minute. For those of you who have sat with crazy Sam’s Army fans at a U.S. game, this was like that. Only the WHOLE stadium was the Sam’s Army section.

The Roma fans grew quieter (but never completely silent) and it ended 7-1.

All was calm after the match as we trekked back to the bus and to our hotel.

Most of our group headed across the street from our hotel to a local pub. It was suppose to close at 11, but once the owner was told that a bunch of Americans had journeyed across the pond to see his beloved Manchester United, he kept the establishment open well past 1.

We’ve now seen 10 soccer matches on European soil now, and this is the only bit of violence we’ve witnessed. It’s too bad that the world’s game can’t seem to shake this. Manchester United’s performance this night was incredible. A thing of beauty. It’s too bad the fan behavior outside the stadium didn’t match the glorious skill of their team.

Day 2: Touring London

(Originally posted April 9, 2007)

Sorry, we’ve haven’t posted much. We’ve been too busy going to see football! We’ll try to send a Day 3 report with games at Fulham and Charlton soon.

We took a bit of a time out from soccer on our second day to have a look around London. Here are some pictures from the day. Look kids, it’s Big Ben. Parliament.

Our first day in London

(Originally posted April 8, 2007, during our soccer tour of England with PSG Sports.)

Day 1
Game 1: Arsenal 0, West Ham 1 (Emirates Stadium, in north London)

We’ve survived our first looooong day in England.

We always knew we were going to have a tight window in London. Our plane was scheduled to arrive at 10:05 and we had to be to our hotel by 12:45 to meet up with our group.

But our flight left Detroit about an hour late, so we didn’t get into Gatwick until 10:45. Still, we were able to clear customs quickly and grab the 11:30 train into London. We grabbed a cab ride (past Buckingham Palace) to our hotel and arrived about 12:40. Unfortunately, our room wasn’t ready set, so Amy quickly changed clothes in the bathroom.

We also got to meet half our group (the other half was off at the Chelsea-Tottenham game.) It seems like its going to be a good group. Everyone seemed very laid back. People came from New Hampshire, California, Atlanta and even Montana. It should be a fun week.

With little rest from out long flight, we marched off to the tube stop to head off to Emirates Stadium, the home of mighty Arsenal.

Emirates proved to be a monsterous, beautiful stadium — more closesly resembling an NFL stadium than most of the other soccer grounds we’ve seen in Europe.

One thing we noticed: There are no trash bins around or in the stadium. We couldn’t find anywhere to dump the water bottles we’d been drinking. A member of our group, Tim from Montana, told us that most stadiums ditched trash bins during the troubles in Northern Ireland. The IRA would drop bombs in garbage cans. So, they got rid of them. Trash just ended up in neat piles around the stadium.

Once in the stadium, we grabbed a couple of beers, a hot dog for me and a slice of some pizza-like substance for Amy. We headed off to our seats. We were surpised to learn that you can’t take beer to your seats. With only minutes until the game, we had to guzzle our beers. Not a problem.

Our seats were great. 13 rows up behind one of the goals. The game was fast and furious. Arsenal attacked the goal in front of to begin the game. They had chance after chance. Missing high. Missing left. A shot just blocked. They did everything but hit the back of the net.

Just before halftime, West Ham nicked a shot a long, looping shot over the head of Arsenal’s keeper Jans Lehman (the German national team goalkeeper Amy calls hot.) The visiting West Ham fans, sitting just two sections away from us (and surrounded by security) exploded into a giant celebration. I don’t think many of them left their seats at halftime. They just danced and sang.

In the second half, Arsenal continued their relentless surge. But again, they just couldn’t score. And as the last remaining seconds ticked away (Interestingly, the Emirates clock counted down, not up), the West Ham fans cheered and taunted their rivals.`

After the game, we headed down to the massive Arsenal store (The Armoury) to find a shirt for the husband of a friend of ours.

Our hotel is great. It sits right beside the Tower of London, basically under the Tower Bridge. It has the biggest rooms I’ve seen in a European hotel.

That night, we walked along the Thames River and watch the sunset near Tower Bridge. We ate at this cute three-story restaurant, called Dicken’s Inn. The first floor was a pub, the second was a pizza joint on a balcony overlooking the marina. And the third floor was an elegant restaurant. Amy, or course, chose pizza.

Our waiter (a West Ham fan) was suprised the Americans had come all this way to watch football. We had a bottle of wine and incredibly good pizza.

We miss everyone. Wish you all were here with us. We go to Fulham (and Craven Cottage) on Monday.

Time to go home

(Originally posted June 23, 2006)

We arrived early Thursday in Nuremberg, Germany, for the United States final group match vs. Ghana. For the first time since we had come to Germany the firery heat had gone, and there was a chill in the air.

Like us, thousand of Americans wandered through the Nuremberg’s old town eating local cuisine, drinking tasty beer and occasionally singing and cheering. Our pace was slow; we were nervous of the day ahead. The mood was more subdued than in Kaiserslautern days earlier. There was guarded optimism, but optimism nonetheless.

We wanted to get to the stadium early. We were ready to do battle, ready to have our fate determined. We found our seats, seven rows behind one of the goals, surrounded by other U.S. fans. As the game started, U.S. fans began their usual chants and songs, but couldn’t quite seem to get in synch, much like our team on the field.

Still, when Clint Dempsey scored a tying goal for the Americans, it briefly seemed like it would be our day. Dempsey was our best player in this World Cup, and we were glad to see him get a goal.

Our enthusiasm was short-lived. After yet another controversial call, we found ourselves behind yet again. And this time, not many of us believed we would find a way back. And we were right.

If a loss like this had occurred back home at a Lions game, the fans would have quickly filed out. But we fans sat and waited for team to come over to our section of the stands and wave goodbye. The U.S. players lingered and so did their fans. Neither wanted their World Cup to be over.

The sports axiom, “there is always next year,” doesn’t apply in world soccer. It will be four years until America gets a chance to prove itself on this stage again. Many of the faces will different.

But we hope to be them with them in four years. South Africa here we come.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Just like the U.S. National Team, our World Cup is over. We’ve been planning this trip for more than two years, but it ends when we catch a plane back to Detroit on Saturday. Despite the U.S.’s performance, it’s been the trip of a lifetime. Here our some final thoughts from Germany:

* Soccer fans are good people. Almost everyone we encountered was friendly or at least peaceful. Even dressed head-to-toe in U.S. gear, we encountered no hostility. All our worries about hooligans quickly evaporated. We only saw one fight: And that was English fans beating on each other at 5 in the morning.

* Stadium security and transportation were unimpressive. Considering the scale of the World Cup, we didn’t see nearly as many police officers as we expected. Sure, nothing bad happened at any of the matches we saw. But what if it had? Also, it took a miserably long time to get in and out of stadiums, and we were often crammed onto stifling hot trains.

* Korea has the best fans. Thye sing non-stop, even when their team is behind, and each section of fans has a conductor who uses hand-signals to coordinate their cheers. Each song has a dance that goes along with it. It was mesmerizing to watch.

* U.S. fans have arrived. No Europeans expected us to show up, but we encountered Americans everywhere. U.S. merchandise was sold out at many souvenir stores. Before and during games, we were loud, passionate and impressive. Our fans have joined the world’s game.

* U.S. Soccer has a long way to go. Did the referees hurt us? Sure. But when it mattered, the United States couldn’t score or even put a shot on net. We certainly weren’t the worst team in the tournament, but we certainly aren’t among the elite either. We have four more years to figure it out.

Better to post late than never

(Originally posted June 19, 2006)

WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD!

What a long few days for Amy and me.

On Friday, we began the day by doing laundry. Our hotel offered to do it, but at the cost of two euros for a pair of underwear. Prices skyrocketed after that. So, Amy and I bundled up our clothes and headed off for the nearest waschsalon. Once we got there, we loaded all our clothes in the machines, but couldn’t find any slot for the money. We stood there for a minute or two looking around like morons. Finally, a nice, young Germany woman took pity on us. She showed us that you place your coins at a machine in the front room and then press a button that corresponds to the number on the machine. Now, we have clothes to wear.

We spent the rest of Friday as we spend most of our afternoons in Koln, sitting in an outdoor pub called Memos watching the day’s World Cup matches. Usually we are joined by some of our American friends from D.C. At Memo’s, beer is served by the meter. They bring out a meter-long tray that holds 11 beers. The whole thing cost 11 euros. The pub is right across from the Koln’s central fan fest, so the atmosphere is usually pretty incredible.

On Saturday, Kaiserslautern – the site of the U.S.-Italy mach — is about 4 hours by train for our home base in Koln. We grabbed a train at 9 a.m. so we could get in early and wander the city.

It was a nice quiet train ride and we were able to get a little bit of sleep. Amy flirted with a couple of German brothers who were amazed by how many World Cup matches we were going to see.

We got to Kaiserslautern around 12:30 and a giant American street party had already begun. Kaiserlautern is near one of the large U.S. military bases in Germany. Still, Italians were everywhere and not nearly as friendly as fans we had met from the Czech game. But as has been the case throughout the World Cup, we didn’t encounter any outright hostility.

(No Tuna, this picture is not of us…)

We made our way over to a gathering of U.S. fans at a local bar. But it was too crowded so we wandered early over to the stadium. All the stadiums we’ve seen in Germany are incredible. Big, beautiful temples to soccer. But we’ve been unimpressed by crowd management at most of the venues. Lines into the stadium are long. Bus stops and rail stations seem overwhelmed. Considering that these stadiums are full every weekend for club matches, we expected the Germans would be better at this.

We got into the area around the stadium, did a bit of souvenir shopping and got up on an outdoor stage with a bunch of American fans to sing “Born in the U.S.A.”

Since Amy and I didn’t get tickets together for this game, we wandered up to my seats in the last row of the stadium behind one of the goals. We watched Ghana beat the Czechs on one of the big screens, which, of course, was huge for Team U.S.A.

Energy continued to build as more Americans arrived for the match. The atmosphere was incredibly hopeful. We expected a better performance from our boys. The seats around us continued to fill up and Amy was ready to head off to her seat. But this incredibly nice couple next to us from Colorado insisted that Amy stay and squeezed together to make room.

At kickoff, the U.S. fans were crazy. The largest, loudest group of crazed U.S. fans that I have every seen.

Right from the start, we knew this game would be different. The U.S. team looked like a much better team. They beat Italy to every ball. They were faster and they made better decisions. Clint Dempsey look phenomenal. And yet, we still conceded the first goal.

But the American fans only got louder. And when we tied the game a few minutes later, the fans erupted with the more joy than I’ve ever seen at a sporting event. When an Italian player earned a red card moments later, pandemonium ensued. U.S. fans now believed that this was our day.

Of course, it didn’t stay that way. Two red cards later and our team was clinging on for dear life. Fans and players of soccer always insist that a crowd can lift and carry a team. I don’t know if that’s true. But it seemed that way on Saturday. Every time, it looked as if the momentum was turning against us. American fans would chant or sing or just scream their lungs out – and the team would respond by making a key stop.

When the final whistle blew, Amy and I had nothing left. We slumped against my seats. I have never been more exhausted or relieved at the end of a sporting event. While we were happy with the draw, many of us wondered about the red card calls and the disallowed U.S. goal. We really wanted to see the TV replays.

Fans were quickly running through the scenarios for our third group match. Our best hope: Italy beats the Czechs; we beat Ghana. We would be through to the next round! We’ll have to wait until Thursday when both matches kick off simultaneously at 4. (That’s 10 a.m. in Detroit!)

After the match, the train station in Kaiserslautern was incredibly overcrowded, and I became concerned that someone might actually get trampled. We managed to squeeze our way to our train. Amy and I have gotten smarter and now reserve seats for every train we get on. Otherwise, you could end up standing in the aisles.

We tried to get some sleep on the five-hour ride home, but a bunch of loudmouthed Americans talked loudly for most of the trip. It frightens me that we’ve met so many people on this trip, but the only really, really annoying ones have been Americans.

The next day, Sunday, we caught a cross-country plane to Leipzig to watch Korea and France. More on that later…

A big day for U.S.A.

(Originally posted June 18, 2006)

In the game of soccer — if the clock is always running after all – why are there moments when time seems to stand still? Moments were every second seems like it is being pulled out of your chest.

In Kaiserslautern, Germany, on Saturday, we watched the U.S. national team claw their way to a bruising, bloody, incredibly 1-1 draw with Italy. The U.S. fans – surely the largest, most passionate, most knowledgeable group of Americans to cheer their team on foreign soil – felt every collision, screamed at every poor decision and held their breathe during the final tense moments.

For this game, we didn’t have tickets sitting together, but the Connecticut couple (Mike and his girlfriend) next to Robert’s seat squeezed over so we could stay together. It wasn’t like fans were using their seats anyway. The Americans stood for the entire match.

If you’ve never watch an international soccer match from the stands, you’ve never really experienced the game. On Saturday, the U.S. fans cheered, sang and chanted for the entire match. We have been too big sporting events: NFL, NBA and Stanley Cup playoff games. Nothing comes close to the eneregy we saw in Kaiserslautern.

As the game ticked toward fulltime, the Americans – many now clutching their flags like security blankets — got louder and wilder, willing their team to hang on. We survived one Italian corner kick, then another. Another. Would the referee ever blow the final whistle?

When that whistle did come, U.S. players collapsed onto the field. Their fans finally exhaled, but only for a moment. U.S. players and their manager Bruce Arena came over to the main section of Americans in the stands and applauded their fans. The fans responded by singing and chanting long after the game was over.

—–

The above is our postcard for the Free Press. We’ll try to post more later about the day with pictures, but we are jumping on a plane today to head to Leipzig for the Korea-France match.

Between games

(Originally published June 15, 2006)

Like the U.S. team, we fans nursed our wounds the last few days. After the intensity of Monday’s game, we rested most of Tuesday. We did a bit of shopping in Cologne and had a nice long lunch with some of our D.C. friends. We spent most of the day sitting in our Irish pub, drinking German beer, watching the lackluster Swiss-France match and the incredibly competitive Brazil-Croatia contest.

On Wednesday, we again met up with our friends and took a long eight-hour ship ride down the Rhein to see the castles along the river. There seemed to be a castle about every three miles. The ship had a restaurant with great German food and Germany wine. It also had a TV so when you got sick of castles you could watch the World Cup!

We finally got off at a cute, little German town. Right as we arrived, one of the D.C. guys spotted an old college pal he hasn’t seen in years. As they say, it’s a small world.

We struggled to find a train back to Cologne and ended up missing the Poland-Germany game. By the time we got back, the streets around our hotel were filled with people celebrating Germany’s late, victorious goal. The crowd was so thick we couldn’t get through and had to take another route to the hotel. The rain suddenly began pouring down on us, but the German fans just kept partying.

Two days until U.S.A.-Italy. We are all hoping for a better performance.

It’s their world, but we’re now living in it

(Originally published June 13, 2006)

It’s never easy being a fan of the United States. You don’t get any respect – even in your home nation. It’s tough to find your matches on TV. There are only a few highlights on SportsCenter.

In Europe, the American soccer fan is viewed as a strange, rare creature. We get odd looks in the streets. People walk up and ask to have their picture taken with us. But I don’t think they expect much from us – or from our team.

In Gelsenkirchen on Monday, the site of the first U.S. match, our fans – if not our team – showed something to the world.

Hours before kickoff, Americans were everywhere in the streets of Gelsenkirken. Hundreds of fans took over a town square. We unfurled a giant American flag, and we sang and danced for hours. As Americans wandered out of the nearby train station, the crowd greeted each with a deafening cheer and welcomed them into the party.

Around the square, open-mouthed Europeans stared at the crazed U.S. fans with a bemused look on their faces. I heard one British guy on the phone exclaim to a buddy: “Yeah, it’s a bunch of &%$# yanks! And they’re singing!” Even fans of the Czech Republic couldn’t help but smile as they headed to the match.

By the end of the day, there was little singing from the Americans. Our team soundly beaten, we headed back to the train station. We put their arms around each other. Many of us exchanged hugs.

But no Europeans taunted us – not even the Czechs. Many gave us a sad, knowing look, as if to say, “You’re football fans now. There is as much agony in this game as there is joy. Welcome to our world.”

And that’s a lesson, we American fans now have learned. The road to the top of world’s game will not be as easy or as quick as we had hoped.

We knew the day wasn’t going to go well

(Originally published June 12, 2006)

First no eggs at breakfast. I eat an egg for breakfast every day.

Then our first train to Cologne broke down. We had to take another. We got on that train. Late. Then we had to get off that one at Leverkersen; ironically the city where Landon Donovan didn’t want to play. Then we went from this platform to that one and then to another. Hundreds of Americans on way to Cologne to Gelsenkirchen and we were confused. And when we weren’t confused, we were sandwiched in the train like sardines. And outside Germany was experiencing record heat. It was hot. Blackout hot.

We made it to the match city. Finally. The one-hour trip took two. Gelsenkirchen itself was lovely. Town square was really small so both U.S. and Czech fans took over. Four hours before kick off.

One Czech fan wanted to trade scarves with Robert. The guy seemed really happy. We mentioned we were from Detroit. He says he is from same city as Jiri Fisher and that he loves Hasek. We liked him. We took a photo with him and parted ways. Forever.

We made one pub home base and outside all U.S. fans eventually congregated and sang. We sang our little hearts out. And we sang on the train to the stadium. And when we got to the stadium, we sang some more.

The stadium was poorly marked for those in the yellow sector including Robert and I. We walked all the way around the building before finally finding an entrance. Located the section where we were sitting. And we walked up the stairs. And we kept walking. All the way to the second to last row. We knew the day wasn’t going well.

We are spoiled in America watching soccer at home because we usually get seats in the Sam’s Army supporters section, and they are fantastic. Plus, the day before we were in the second row for the Portugal/Angola game.

Game time. One goal. Two goals. Three goals. Every goal felt like a dagger.

As fans we were outnumbered. I would say 3 to 1. As players we were outplayed. As it turns out 3 to 0.

We are exhausted. We are crushed.

Red, white and blue

(Originally published June 11, 2006)

In the middle of December, three crazy Americans (me, Amy and Ron Recinto) huddled around the small TV on the Free Press newsdesk on a Friday afternoon. Everyone who passed by wondered what had us so engrossed? Had some huge, breaking news occurred? No, we told them: We are watching the World Cup draw. They shook their heads and walked away.

When the U.S. was drawn into Group E, that was the first I’d ever heard of the German city of Gelsenkirchen, the site of the American’s first game against the Czech Republic. Since then, we’ve thought of little else. It seemed like June 12 would never come.

Tomorrow, we’ll board a train for Gelsenkirchen wearing our red jerseys and our red, white and blue scarves. A flag will be wrapped around me like a cape. Amy’s even agreed to let me paint my face!

I’m so nervous. I have no idea what our chances are tomorrow. Amy, of course, is certain we will win. For those of you in the States, the game is on at noon Eastern on ESPN2. Don’t miss it.

Last night, we went to our first live game: Portugal and Angola. Our seats were INCREDIBLE. We were in midfield, TWO ROWS from the pitch. Amy could see the dimples on her boyfriend Cristiano Ronaldo. At one point in the second half, a ball flew off a Portugal player and shot right at me. I leaped into the air and grabbed it. Of course, you have to give it throw it back to the ball boy… I wonder if I just could have kept it…

The Angola fans were having one huge party in the stands. It almost sounded like they brought a whole band with them. Even thought they were outnumbered, they certainly out-shouted the Portuguese who seemed more nervous than excited.

The police presence at the game was far less than I was expecting. But it proved unnecessary. The fans were incredible well behaved – certainly better behaved than Lions fans. We were thoroughly searched by security both as we approached the stadium and when we entered.

When getting drinks at events in Germany, you basically rent your glass. The give you a plastic cup which they charged you one euro for in addition to the beverage. You can bring the glass back and they’ll give you back your euro. It keeps down the littering, I guess.

Everyone: We are loving the comments. It makes us feel like you are all here with us.

Go USA!

Soccer-loving Americans

(Originally published June 10, 2006)


Finally hooked up with our D.C. soccer friends last night. Met in the public square that was showing the England game. And we had our photo taken with some Brits who wanted to remember the crazy soccer-loving Americans they had just met.

Cologne is filled with college kids and has a very cosmopolitan feel. We absolutely love it here. Went to the university-area of Cologne last night to watch the Argentina/Ivory Coast game. Drinks were super cheap so we will be going there again. Robert had way too many Jack and Cokes. Soccer-loving, heavy-drinking Americans seemed a novelty there.

He is feeling it this morning. I had to go to breakfast alone. Thought of my sister when I was sitting in the restaurant facing the lovely courtyard eating my breakfast of brot met eggs, tomatoes and mayonnaise. Reminds me of Holland. I sure hope I get to visit this trip.
Clonts, you would love the coffee. Very strong and very yummy. I find myself craving it (and the German beer, of course) every day. Maybe it is just the cream, but things taste better in Europe.

We are walking like crazy. Good thing I brought some sensible shoes. God I am old, sounding like an old lady wearing her Naturalizers. And the weather is much warmer than we expected. We are burning through the clothes and will have to do laundry sooner than expected. This also calls for shopping, I think.

Days seem so much slower here and we are enjoying every minute. Life is good.

P.S. Anderson, Robert and I are so happy you have embraced soccer and are enjoying the tournament as much as we are. Glad the Oilers won one; if you beat the Wings, you better go all the way.

The world’s greatest game — even scoreless

(Originally published June 10, 2006)

People are quick to ridicule soccer for the lack its lack of scoring.

Yet, the World Cup’s best game so far is the 0-0 draw between Trinidad and Tobabgo and Swenden.

In their first-ever World Cup game, tiny little Trinidad absorbed chance after chance from powerhouse Sweden. The last 30 minutes of that game were as gut-wretching as I’ve ever seen. T&T hanging on for dear life as Sweden swarmed around their goal. We watched the game on our tiny hotel room TV, and yet Amy and I were both up out of seats screaming for the Socca Warriors to hang on to the tie – the biggest surprise of the World Cup thus far.

Only a fool would call that game boring.

On Saturday night, Sweden fans wandered around in despair. Trindad earned respect in the biggest game their nation has ever played.

Tomorrow, Amy and I will see Portugal play Angola in Koln’s stadium – our first live World Cup match. We can’t wait.

A nation quiets, then rejoices

(Originally posted June 9, 2006)

It’s been said that the World Cup can clear streets.

A half-hour before Germany’s cup opening match in Munich against Costa Rica, an eerie silence descended on Cologne. The few people and cars on the street all seemed to be rushing toward the nearest television. I guess I was expecting a party atmosphere as the first match approached. Instead, all of Germany seems to be holding its breath.

As Amy and I walked from our hotel, toward the center of Cologne, every storefront has a TV in the window and people are crowded around, their heads craning for any view at all. Pubs were completely full, with patrons outside pressing their faces against the windows.

Near the city’s giant, ancient cathedral, cup organizers have set up a giant screen so fans can watch all the matches. We can’t get anywhere close. German fans stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the street. Thousands of flags sprang up from the crowd. Still, the crowd noise stays at a low murmur – until the German national anthem begins playing. With one voice, the crowd sings. We can’t squeeze close enough to a television to see the World Cup’s opening kickoff, but the noise of the crowd told us when it happens. When Germany scores early in the match, a giant cry shot though the downtown. Church bells rang.

Amy and I escaped the crowd and wandered back toward our hotel, desperate to find a pub where we could watch the game. We made our way back to an Irish pub we had eaten at earlier in the day where we can watch the games in English. By the time we get inside, three goals have been scored. Still, the scene on the street was worth missing most of the first half. And fortunately, the second half proved just as interested as Costa Rica put up a valiant fight before falling 4-2 to Germans. (Plus, inside the pub, drunk England fans taunted every German misstep with loud off-color songs.)

After the match, the streets around our hotel – empty two hours before — flooded with people waving flags and honking their car horns. People partied on every corner.

Whew…and this is only our first day here. Two more weeks to go.

We are in Germany!

(Originally posted June 9, 2006)

We made it!

After an 8-hour flight where Robert slept most of the way and I was too excited to sleep, we arrived in Germany just after 8 a.m. (2 a.m. Detroit time).

There were fewer people wearing soccer jerseys on the plane they we expected: a few Mexico fans and a father and son wearing Serbia gear. Also, there were some strange old men all wearing old-fashioned German hats (we forget what they are called) with feathers in them. I bet they had lieder hosen underneath.

When we arrived at the airport, we heard our names being called over the intercom. Our driver Steven met us at the Frankfurt airport with sign with our names on it. How cool is that! We are soccer rock stars! He drove us around Frankfurt (we had to drop off another fellow Soccer Travel passenger) and then around Cologne (where we will be based).

The German countryside looks a lot like Wisconsin (thick forest, rolling hills) and if you weren’t paying attention you wouldn’t even know you were in another country. We saw a bunch of McDonald’s along the road.

Still, we quickly learned Germany’s reputation for fast freeways is no exaggeration. Our driver quickly revved his Mercedes up to 200 kph. (What is that in mph, anyway?) I found the fast speed soothing and conked out the whole way to Cologne.

We checked into our lovely hotel and quickly found a Starbucks a block away to get some caffeine and relax. We had to wait for our room to be ready, so we’ll be heading back to hotel after some lunch to shower and unpack and back out to find a pub to watch the opening match.