Germany Versus England: The Last is Best

June 27 Day 18

Germany 4 England 1 Bloemfontein

There is little rest for the committed (or is it “committable”?) World Cup fan. After getting to bed at 4:00 am I was up at 9:00 am. I wanted to eat one decent meal, since I did not know when the next decent meal would be. Also, I wanted to get on the road, as I had to pick up Angelo in Sandton and then travel 250 miles to Bloemfontein in central South Africa. I was pumped: Germany versus England in the World Cup.!! This match-up does not often happen (the last time was 1990), and I had two tickets!

The weather, as always in my South Africa experience, was clear and pleasant. I had learned the streets and highways around Pretoria. I smoothly found the N1 expressway and had motored several miles south, when, fortunately, I had a sudden troubling thought. I had safeguarded the tickets in my room safe. There was nothing more valuable. However, I had forgotten to take them out before I left. I knew the reason: raw fatigue. I have attended hundreds of sports events in my life. Never, ever had I forgotten the tickets, until now. I was physically ground down, and making mistakes.

I lost at least 50 minutes circling back, retrieving the tickets, and heading out again. Even worse, after I picked up Angelo, and we returned to the expressway, traffic was unusually heavy. “Want me to drive?” asked Angelo. “We need to take the back streets to get around this traffic.” I pulled into a gas station and Angelo took over. He moved slickly through the Johannesburg streets and emerged on the expressway south of the city. By that point it was after noon, and we had more than 200 miles to go before the 4:00 pm kick-off.

Angelo drove South African style, fast…really fast. Fortunately he is a capable driver, and Sunday traffic was thin. We began going in excess of 95 MPH. The speed limit was 75 MPH. The whole way, only one car passed us, a big Mercedes.

Many miles south of Johannesburg, we suddenly saw two traffic policemen beside the road. One beckoned us to stop. Caught!

Angelo complied and pulled over to the right of the roadway. A rotund, pleasant-looking African traffic policeman approached. Angelo said. “Let me handle this.” I replied, “Of course!” The traffic cop politely informed Angelo that he had been doing about 95 MPH, and that the fine was the equivalent of about $160 US.

Angelo said, “That’s a lot! But, let’s make a plan.” The policeman said, “Quickly!” Angelo pulled out the equivalent of $11 US and handed the bills to the officer. He rolled them up in his hand, out of sight and then expressed his appreciation by informing us where the next speed trap policemen were waiting. Things can get done in Africa!

As we pulled back on the road Angelo informed me that one cannot buy out of substantive offenses, such as drunk driving. Also, the regular police do not usually accept “appreciation money.” On the other hand, the regular officers do not concern themselves with speeding drivers; they leave that duty to the traffic policemen.

As Angelo and I pressed on, once again in my experience, the farther we traveled from the Johannesburg – Pretoria region, the less the road quality. The road changed to four lanes undivided, then three lanes, then two lanes with frequent passing lanes, then simply two lanes.

As to the surrounding terrain, that remained constant. Think Central and Southern California, east of the Pacific coastal region.

Thanks to Angelo’s astute driving, we entered Bloemfontein about 3:20 pm, ahead of the 4:00 pm game. The medium-sized city is pleasant. Bloemfontein is in Afrikaner territory. The venue is way ahead of Royal Bafokeng, as the stadium is centrally sited in a park and recreation complex.

I had a good idea of the stadium’s location, but had never been there. We eschewed a park and bus ride location, since we had no knowledge whether it was great or horrible. We pressed on, driving into the city center. I spied a shopping center and advocated parking there. Angelo said, “Let’s get closer.”

We found a small lot, where an African man was parking cars, who knows if authorized or not. As game time was approaching, I suggested we park there. Angelo said, “Let’s get closer.”

We pressed on, a little farther, almost as far as we could drive before reaching the security perimeter. There, on the left, was a beautiful parking spot, on the sidewalk, between other cars parked there. We took it!

We walked quickly toward the stadium. After a hundred yards, again a bad realization struck: I had left the tickets in the glove compartment! No question I was not myself. I ran back, pulled them out, and rejoined Angelo, who was buying England scarves and knit caps for us. We had decided we would pull for England today, since Germany has enjoyed so much more World Cup success.

The approach to the stadium is the best I have seen: a shopping mall bordering a small man-made lake. Sure beats the dusty fields of the Royal Bafokeng Sports Palace!

Bloemfontein stadium is another old rugby facility like Pretoria and Johannesburg Ellis Park. Still, with renovations and no track, those old rugby stadia are pleasant soccer venues with good viewing all around.

Angelo and I made our way to our seats, about half way up the second deck, right at the half line, fine Category 1 seats. The weather was in the low 70’s, with pleasant sun. England fans surrounded us, and dominated the stadium. Pro-England banners were hung from the second deck all around. Seems Bloemfontein stadium officials are far more laid back about fan signs than the Soccer City folks.

Before us were the England and Germany teams. England wore all red, not common, while German attire was traditional white jerseys and black shorts. Wow, Rooney, Klose, et al—there they were before me, in the flesh! England versus Germany in the World Cup! The atmosphere was pure Europe; the venue Africa. The teams, and tens of thousands of us had traveled so far and with such effort to reach this point in far southern Africa, to clash, yet again, on a soccer pitch. It was worth everything!

The game itself did not disappoint. The teams came out attacking, among the world’s best, throwing all they had at each other. Wow, it was all wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, worthy of being there in the brilliant southern Africa sunshine, just for that one game.

The English fans chanted “Roo-neee,” “Roo-neee.” Rooney is known as a rugged and physical player, so it was a bit odd to see how deftly he handled the soccer ball. Indeed, watching those two teams, just hours after observing Team USA, I could see our boys are simply not yet in the class of either Germany or England. The ball skills these guys display are impressive, damn impressive. Team USA can get there, but not today.

Rooney seemed more active than I had seen him against the USA. However, it was an old (32) and wily World Cup master, German Klose, who struck first. Amidst heavy traffic in the top of the penalty box, Klose slipped a clever shot past the English goalkeeper. That is Klose’s expertise, scoring goals in the World Cup. I heard he had not dome much this season for his German club team. In the World Cup he is another player.

Likewise, the second German goal scorer, Podolski, had not done well for his German club team this past season. All he needed was the World Cup stage to shine again.

To me, it is no accident that Klose and Podolski are on the German World Cup team. I have long admired the German national football organization, how they consistently produce such strong teams, yet do not have a national talent pool with the world’s fastest, quickest nor the most clever ball handlers. These Germans know what they are doing; the rest of the world can learn something.

After Klose and Podolski did their World Cup thing yet again, the English fans around us sagged. In world class soccer, a 2 – 0 lead is huge. On the other hand, the true German fan numbers emerged. Though there were many thousands, they had been mostly invisible, until Klose and Podolski brought them to their feet. Curiously, I had seen no German banners at all around the stadium. In 2006 I had learned that following World War II, expressions of German nationalism had been self-suppressed in shame over the atrocities. That feeling is changing, but slowly; thus, perhaps the reason for no hung banners.

England, however, did not give up. Indeed, “The Three Lions” team as they are known, began attacking like lions. Within five minutes, England got back one goal. England continued attacking in waves, even hitting a cross bar. The fierce battle was on! Then another England shot hit the cross the bar, but this time the ball bounced down, apparently over the line, even from my mid-line vantage point. I turned to Angelo, “That ball went over the line!” The referee, though, signaled, “Play on; no goal.”

The English players on the field gestured wildly; the English fans howled in protest. Andrew flashed an SMS, “The ball was a foot over the line!” I could see other English fans looking at their cell phones. People around us began murmuring, “It was a goal!” “Robbed!” “We were robbed.” The entire English fan contingent began chanting, “The referee is a wanker!” “The referee is a wanker!”

I did not know it at the time, but a huge international controversy had been spawned. The entire world knew a goal had been scored but not FIFA’s referee. The irony was stark: worldwide technology enabled fans in the stands to know the ball crossed the line, but FIFA, which has steadfastly resisted technology nor any change for that matter, chose a referee who could not see the fact from yards away.

I wondered the referee’s identity. Later I learned I had seen this same man before, in 2006, in Germany. When I heard the referee was Uruguayan, I wondered, “Oh no, could it be????” Oh, YES! He refereed the USA versus Italy game, a 1 – 1 draw. The USA played maybe its best World Cup game ever. The Uruguayan ruined the game, repeatedly calling fouls against the USA on the Italians’ obvious dives to the ground in response to aggressive American play, and ultimately issuing an almost unprecedented three red cards, two to the USA, one to Italy. That performance was one of the very worst I have ever seen at any level.

Yet, old FIFA brought him back, only to see him make one of the worst referee gaffe’s in World Cup history. Surely this blatantly bad call will be conversation fodder for decades to come.

Nevertheless, old FIFA has a strong hand in this World Cup's many serious referee errors. Reasons: 1) improper instructions 2) referees are forced to make calls in an instant, which FIFA has made game-changing and even tournament-altering 3) the gross imbalance of defense over offense makes each goal critical, thus magnifying the referee’s impact 4) rules such as offside are too complex 5) the rules are set up as “all or nothing” extremes, so the referee has no in-between disciplinary choice 6) poor referee selection process 7) one referee is asked to do too much, the same as FIFA ignores the players’ human limits.

[Side note: of about 100 head referees and assistant referees (who serve as linesman and have other duties), not one is American. There is a guy from Uzbekistan There are several Mexicans and one Canadian. I confess I somehow missed the all-powerful Canadian professional soccer league in which that official works. In my opinion, our American referees are eminently qualified to blow World Cup game calls.]

Concerning the missed goal, I am in the camp which believes the error had a profound impact on the game, as undermining the English players’ morale. They should have achieved an inspiring tie, just minutes after going down 2 – 0. Make no mistake: Germany deserved to win, but we will never know IF they would have won had the English been credited with that goal.

After the incident, the highly attractive attacking play carried on, but no one could score. Suddenly, with about one-third the game left, the Germans unleashed a flying counter-attack, just like the wonderful ones we used to see from Nigeria. German forwards dashed at top speed up the field. English defenders hesitated, a fatal error. Muller, a 20-year-old speed burner, finished the thrilling run with a goal. Not satisfied, Muller repeated his exciting dash to success, just a few minutes later. Everyone was stunned at what they had witnessed.

Wow!!!!!

The English were deflated, down 4-1 with a quarter left to play. Still, while the score was brutal, the difference was only the missed goal call and several struck cross-bars. England lost 4-1 but was not beaten 4 -1.

The English throngs streamed out quietly, now in the darkness. The German fans were ecstatic of course, but not obnoxious. Angelo and I were in the departing crowds. Somehow a metal railing was in our down ramp path. People slipped under it and kept walking. I decided to do a duck walk under the railing. I was so exhausted that occasionally I felt somewhat dizzy. Indeed, I toppled over. Before I could move to arise, numerous fans around grasped my arms and lifted me to my feet, like some magic force.

This incident not only represents my South African experience, it also represents the amazingly good sports fans I have seen in attending more than 30 World Cup games in four countries. Ugly soccer fan incidents are commonly reported in the media. My experience, however, is World Cup fans occupy higher levels of sportsmanship than partisans at other games. Surely unruly fans can be found at World Cup games, but one must look very long and hard to find such ruffians.

Angelo and I walked on. We found our car, intact. We decided to stop for dinner to allow the traffic to thin, although the flow was much better than Royal Bafokeng. Nothing could be that bad.

We found a place called “Jimmy’s,” which specialized in prawns. We had to wait at the bar for a table, with the World Cup crowds. Suddenly Angelo began speaking in Greek to a restaurant manager. His parents are Greek immigrants to South Africa. Within a couple minutes, we had our table, just like we had found our sidewalk parking spot. Angelo is a handy companion.

After the excellent dinner, we headed out to the highway, back to Johannesburg. The time was 9:00pm but we had the Argentina – Mexico game on the radio to entertain us. As I warned Angelo, after my experience the night before, traffic was slow out of Bloemfontein on that two-lane road, with toll booths on the route ahead.

Ultimately I arrived back at the Pretoria hotel close to 3:00 am. I was beyond exhaustion, but I did not care. I had seen Germany and England, in one of the most stirring attacking games ever played in the World Cup, right before my eyes. Indeed, my last game was the best.