Postcard Wars

Here I am again on an ICE train, this time on my way to the capital for the next two days. Berlin ho! We couldn’t resist. Yesterday 250,000 fans packed Berlin’s “Soccer Mile,” along Strasse des 17. Juni to the Brandenburger Tor, for Germany’s glorious win over the Poles. 250,000!

Our train from Stuttgart – Hopp Stuttgart! – came through Nuremberg, where this afternoon the Soca Warriors from Trinidad and Tobago play the English in each team’s second match. So, then, do you think there may have been a few English fans in the Nuremberg train station during our 45-minute layover there? If you answered “yes,” bravo!

The English are an amusing, if somewhat frightening, set of fans. And when you consider that advancees from Group A and Group B will play one another in the second round – an elimination round – it raises the thrilling but slightly terrifying scenario that England will play Germany in a HUGE game in the very near future. With the mafia known as English soccer fans in a country with millions of rabid German fans, this could spell a lot of trouble for two groups of fans that, truth be told, hate each other. It would make me very nervous. I respect the English, even as I hope for a 6-0 shellacking at the hands of Deutschland.

But first the Soca Warriors. Came across a few true Trinidadans at the train station in Nuremberg, and I wish them good luck tonight against an English team equipped, once again, with Wayne Rooney. The English can only improve on an unimpressive performance against the Paraguayans in Game #1. Meanwhile, in the late game tonight in Berlin, it will be the Swedes against Paraguay. Swedes are absolutely great people and I expect the capital will be overrun by beer-guzzling visitors from “Sverige.” I once saw Henrik Larsson at a nightclub in Glasgow, which I am very proud of. Is it me or do most towns in Sweden end in “-kőping”?

Speaking of Glasgow, I saw my first Scotland-turned-Trinidad supporter today, a kilted Scot wearing a Trinidad jersey in the hopes that his adopted nation will thrash the English. Soccer politics at its finest.

Finally, a big shout-out to all my friends in the USA, hiding from their bosses’ eyes to catch scores from the latest games. I’ll be back in the working world soon enough and can commiserate. Priorities, folks! Work happens every day. The World Cup happens every four years. Keep up the good work.

P.S. – The title of this entry comes from a group of English fans who were marching around the Nuremberg station singing “Que sera, sera.” My brother made the accurate observation that the English will likely NOT be singing that song should Trinidad take down Becks and Co. 4-1 in a few hours.

P.P.S. – Spain 4, Ukraine 0 in the tournament’s biggest drubbing so far. I know a certain Spaniard in Pennsylvania who will be thrilled with this. Ole, Franco! And what about the Ukraine coach’s comment that he expects nothing less than the semifinals this year?

Germany’s Intercity Express, or ICE, trains, are badass. They have outlets beneath the seats, allowing me to type today’s dispatch while traveling from Gelsenkirchen, site of yesterday’s 3-0 Czech mashing of the United States, to Stuttgart, site of today’s game between France and Switzerland. I’m wearing my Swiss jersey to prepare for a second straight day of watching the games just outside the stadiums where they’re being played. In Gelsenkirchen it was a “Fan Fest” with a huge, high-quality screen in an old stadium beside the new one. Thousands of people everywhere. Upon arrival in Gelsenkirchen I was stunned by how many Americans were lurking about, gearing up for the big match a few hours later. Then I got to the Fan Fest and realized the Czech entourage had been there drinking for many hours already, dwarfing the U.S. fans in their numbers and outsinging them as well. Over and over came the refrains: “Cesi do toho!” (“Czechs all the way!”) and the ever-lovable “Kdo neskace neni Cech!” (“If you’re not jumping, you’re not a Czech!”). This was lovable until about the fifth minute of the game, when Jan Koller made no mistake and put that cross away HARD. 1-0 Czechs. Then Claudio Reyna hit the post for America and the Czechs came the other way, benefiting from the first of Tomas Rosicky’s two beautiful goals. At this point it became less fun to be an American in a sea of drunken Czech fans. Don’t know if I’ll be able to post photos today, but there will soon be images in this entry of disheartened, flag-draped U.S. fans and boisterous Czechs drinking three and four beers at the same time (OK, the beers were pretty small). “Cesi, cesi, cesi …”

By the way, we’re just passing through Cologne right now, where the Brazilians are certainly gearing up for tonight’s big opener against Croatia. And in a few hours it’ll be Togo – whose coach quit just a few days ago! – against the always formidable South Koreans. I will watch every minute of every match today. No more of this missing matches because of travel nonsense. Travel is to be done before or after the games. I was especially pissed about missing that Australia 3:1 Japan game yesterday, where the Socceroos scored three times in the last 10 minutes of the match to win. I am a wannabe Socceroo. Met some fine Socceroos in Stuttgart the other day who will be attending the Brazil and Croatia matches – lucky dudes. Go Mark Viduka.

So, on to more details. In the Gelsenkirchen Fan Fest yesterday I spied a group of beer-drinking, kilted Scots, from Glasga as it would turn out. Scotland didn’t qualify for the tournament, so why are you guys here? “We hope the English get beat,” was the reply. Shocking, isn’t it. Then there was a German wearing an Australia jersey but hanging out with a group of Czechs – a common theme at this World Cup. Many people seem to support non-native teams. A girl covered in a Czech flag two days ago in Stuttgart was actually German, and of course there’s always those who pull for T n T or Angola simply because they’re here. But it’s great to see an exchange of fans. Yesterday on the packed and drunken tram ride home from the Fan Fest, a Ghanaian (?) was dancing around with a group of Italians, after the Italians had posted a 2-0 win over his team. This is what the World Cup is all about. It’s almost as nice as those commercials narrated by Bono – nicer, in fact, because you don’t have to listen to Bono.

Let me now tell you about Stuttgart Man. Stuttgart Man is not one particular fellow but a type of fellow who has, mysteriously, lost track of time. This is because he is firmly rooted in the 1980s. Stuttgart Man, spotted throughout town on several different occasions, typically has greasy, black hair with a clear and well-defined Euromullet, sometimes bordering on Euromohawkmullet. Stuttgart Man will also be wearing a very tight white T-shirt, sometimes resembling a blouse. And Stuttgart Man will certainly be wearing skin-tight white pants to match his skin-tight white blouse. One Stuttgart Man eerily resembled a young Rocky Balboa (Stuttgart Man is typically a musclehead too.) It was as if he’d just stepped out of that meat locker in Philadelphia. Stuttgart Man!

So, I realize I’ve shirked on my dispatching responsibilities thus far in the tournament, but the fact is that wireless Internet is not nearly as prevalent as I expected it would be and time has been short. But I hope to improve as the week speeds on. After France-Switzerland today we are gearing up, of course, for tomorrow’s Germany-Poland game, which I am hopeful will result in a thrashing of the Poles, especially because the British folks sitting next to me on this ICE train are talking about how weak the German defense is. Righto, boys, and the English looked absolutely brilliant in that piss-poor Paraguay match two days ago. Do you think the Swedes will score on themselves when you play them? I’d better curtail that now.

The best matches of the World Cup so far would have to include Cote D’Ivoire-Argentina with an amazing Didi Drogba, the T n T-Sweden match which I missed but have heard was a winner and the opener between Germany and Costa Rica. Maybe Mexico-Iran, too, at least for the first half. The Italy-Ghana match was very entertaining yesterday even as the Czech-USA game ended as soon as it began. Spain and the Ukraine will come out of the woodwork against one another tomorrow, and I hope the Saudi Arabia-Tunisia match will turn out to be one of those diamonds in the rough, a wild 3-3 shootout or something to that effect. A good day of soccer awaits us again.

Keep the faith, America — Italy's not that good.

From our Postcard Wars correspondent in Glasgow, Scotland, comes this article professing that Scotland may be responsible for Brazil's sweet soccer style. The article is a few days old because The Scotsman finally got around to repairing its broken link. Guess the newspaper folks over there aren't as innovative as the footballers.

Does anyone else miss Scotland being in the World Cup? The fans deserve it, and the bars in Glasgow would do well. Not that they don't already.

And while we're talking about The Scotsman, here's a group-by-group prediction of who will advance from the first round. Most publications on Earth are running this exact same story in some version, so expect Postcard Wars to post some more. But I kind of like these predictions.

Scottish soccer fans will never cease to amaze me in their creative disdain for England. Where did all those Trinidad and Tobago jerseys go, you ask? Check up north. The reasons why are even better.

I spent nine months in Glasgow while studying abroad my junior year of college. This is what I took away from Scotland:

ALLY’S TARTAN ARMY

We’re on the march wi’ Ally’s Army,

We’re going tae the Argentine,

And we’ll really shake them up,

When we win the World Cup,

‘Cos Scotland is the greatest football team!

We’re representing Britain,

And we’re gaunny do or die

England cannae dae it

‘Cos they didnae qualify!