A memorable night at the World Cup final, despite the drama of Zidane's exit.
My memories of the night are, however, mixed. The stadium was fantastic: dramatic, confidently recognisable as a Speer design from the thirties (complete with heroic sculpture), and packed full of people. And the spectacle of a final, including fireworks, celebrations, and a mixture of Shakira and Domingo lingers.
But the atmosphere was surprisingly flat. Too many of the spectators were, like me, there for the event rather than as passionate supporters of one of the teams. We decided to pick a team to root for, backing the Zidane fairy tale ending, and wearing appropriate shirts and face paint. But the game would have been different if the stadium had contained a mixture of 70,000 French and Italian fanatics in full flow. As it was there were too many people on corporate jollies who didn't care enough about the outcome. But then again, I was one of them.
Lots more photos on Flickr. I had fun with my new zoom lens....
I spent Saturday night with 500,000 German football fans on the Fan Mile in Berlin, watching the Germany-Portugal game on big screens. Fantastic atmosphere, rounded off by dancing and flag waving in the streets from an ecstatic crowd. More photos here.
I'd only been to Berlin once before, in 1991, when Russian soldiers were still lurking in barracks and you could buy their hats on street corners. It's still a complicated place: within a couple of square miles are wonderful restaurants, glitzy corporate headquarters, the new holocaust memorial, the pristine Nazi airforce building, the confused ruins of the gestapo headquarters and the Wall, the wonderfully re-incarnated Reichstag and (on Saturday) a million happy football fans having a party.
Having grown up on a diet of Fawlty Towers and The Great Escape (and later the confusing contrast of Bach and Primo Levi), this World Cup has been brilliant. It's great that there's been enough confidence for Germany to have run out of flag material, and for cars to be proudly flying them everywhere. The atmosphere has been superb and there's no stronger sign of a healthy culture than ironic humour: I'm pretty sure that the lyrics of the Bob Marley song sung from the stage under the Brandenburg Gate were "We're German....Hope you like Germans too....We play better football than you". And finally, the brilliant re-invention of the Olympic Stadium (while seemingly retaining some of the original signage and iconography) spoke volumes.
But the best bit: the fact that everyone I know supported Germany once England were knocked out, including my son who had no other context than his admiration for their team.
It was only a few years ago that official British foreign policy was wary of re-unification. It was corrosively inappropriate then, but now just seems laughable. Particularly as I've long thought that Golding was right. To be caught up in the celebrations was therefore moving, and stirring, for all the right reasons.
Dozens of great memories from an epic trip to the World Cup.
I was lucky to get tickets, through work, and was able to organise a trip which included Sam. It was the first England game for both of us. Highlights included being with a Scot, in full kilt, and an England shirt with the graffiti "Shh...dinna tell my granny". And the hot, colourful, crowded, boozy but happy crowds in the narrow streets of Cologne. It wasn't a great game (despite Joe Cole's great goal, and the chants of "He's big, he's big, he's very very big...Peter Crouch"). But it was a great trip. More photos here.
