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.