Friday morning we awoke in France but as I sit to down to write this it is 16 hours later and I have three games and three countries behind me today.
After an early morning stroll through Obernai to pick up some breakfast, the Mrs. and I headed west to Strasbourg, France which sits right on the border with Germany. Last night, some quick research and we realized we could cross the border and watch half of the Germany/Serbia game with the local crowd before heading south to Basel, Switzerland to watch both the US/Slovenia game and England/Algeria games.
Sure, we will spend half of the day in a country that isn’t’ involved in any games, but isn’t it somewhat fitting that country ends up being ever-neutral Switzerland?
The small town of Kehl sits just across the Rhine river from Strasbourg but as most of western France feels as German as French (in some ways), there is no grand entrance. In fact, there is more pomp and circumstance driving from Kansas to Nebraska, and I defy anyone to even tell those two states apart.
We turned off the main road toward Kehl city-center and saw fans wearing the national team colors, flags waving and horns blowing. In fact, in the first 30 seconds of pulling into a parking lot we saw more national and team pride than we did in an entire week in France.
<Ed. Note: This entire post was written prior to the meltdown/le revolution that occurred with Le Bleus over the weekend. Let’s just say that after spending most of the last week in France, it is pretty clear that the national team and their fans make the family from Breaking Bad look well adjusted. >
Directly across the street from our parking lot is an open courtyard that has been fenced in with beer and sausage tents and a large projection screen. It is 90 minutes before the game, and there already people claiming most of the benches in front of the TV. God help those people surviving 90 minutes of that damn Shakira World Cup anthem on repeat. They deserve front row.
We however head deeper into the heart of the city; find an outdoor market and an English garden before heading back to the outdoor viewing party. We are a few minutes before kick-off, so we claim a standing table and load up on beer and sausage. My beer immediately causes Nam-like flashbacks to my trip to Oktoberfest last fall, but that is balanced by the sausage. It is phenomenal. Seriously. It was the highlight of the game.
While Germany would ultimately lose the game, even if we had stayed beyond half time we would have had a hard time seeing it. The large projection screen was incredibly difficult to see with the bright sun, especially when the game was played in the shady half of the field. In fact, there was a shot early in the first half that everyone thought was a German goal only to see on replays that the shot had gone wide.
It was interesting, that our worst actual viewing experience was with the, by far, most passionate fan base. The Germans put the British and especially the French to shame. This was a small town walking distance from France and the entire town seemed to come out for the game on a Friday afternoon.
It would have been a good day for a crime spree in Kehl.
Not only did the people come out but they came out fully decorated. Flags as dresses. Uniforms. Face paint even. All to stand in a courtyard and watch a fuzzy TV in the blinding sun. On a weekday afternoon. That is serious football fandom.
And how are they rewarded? By a red card and a Serbian goal. Later in the second half, the Germans will miss a penalty kick and ultimately lose.
After our sausage and beer we jumped on the highway and made the quick one hour trip south to Basel. You have to love Europe. I can travel through 3 countries in the time it would take me to drive from Boulder to Colorado Springs. Though in fairness there is more cultural similarity between France and Switzerland than Boulder and Colorado Springs.
We arrive at the Basel Hilton just as the U.S. game kicked off. By the time I got bags to the room and the car parked and made it to the hotel bar, Tim Howard had already given up a goal when his feet got stuck in the South African bat guano (or something).
The Mrs. and I take a table in the corner and while others come and go from the bar we own the corner, moaning and yelling at the boys in the stars and stripes as they gave up another goal to go in at the half down 2-0.
As we all know the U.S. scored 2 goals to draw even in the second half and were then inexplicably flagged for an undefined penalty as a third goal was scored. Watching without sound we had no idea what was called. Apparently from texts back home even sound didn’t help much as there has been no explanation for the calls. Given that FIFA is the same group that wanted to penalize Thierry Henry for not getting called for a hand ball, I am not going to hold my breath for an explanation to the (non) call that could cost the U.S. a shot at the second round. If you think FIFA will go out of their way to mollify a country they don’t respect (and probably don’t like), then you have a lot more confidence in them than I do. Or you are more drunk.
While the Americans were staging their comeback on TV, we were doing our best to make a whole new group of people dislike the U.S., though in our defense, most of our neighbors were pretty old, so it isn’t like they will hate us for decades to come. When the third goal was scored our yells actually stopped every conversation in the bar. I am sure they weren’t talking about anything important. They were sitting in a Hilton bar at 4 pm after all.
Finally, after wandering into the center of town and eating dinner, we tried to find a bar to watch the England game. An entire pedestrian-only walkway lined with bars was packed full. Don’t even get me started on the crowds at the two British pubs we saw.
Eventually, we found a couple seats at a random brasserie and hunkered down to watch England though inexplicably the bar was showing an MLS game. Oh wait, no. That WAS England.
So, after three games and three countries in one day and five games and four countries over the last week, here I am in Basel at midnight, listening to Sky Sports lament the poor British effort, and London Algerians start to plan for their win over the U.S. next week.
While there are many unknowns as to how the World Cup will play out from here, there is really only one thing on my mind.
I sure could go for another of those German sausages.
