Looking back on the day just gone, it’s probably fair to say that Greece didn’t quite live up to my expectations from a World Cup point of view, and I don‘t just mean the lethargic display of the team. Upon entering the bar on Aristotelous Square just before kick off today, my mind immediately began to raise doubts about the viability of the whole trip. Had I deluded myself into thinking this crowd round the big screen culture exists outside of our shores? Why is this establishment, and many others I passed, only half full, why is no one wearing national team colours, and why the hell is that fella casually laughing immediately after South Korea score from a basic set piece?
I sat pondering these thoughts over a lonely beer during a disappointing first half, seemingly urging Greece on more than the Greeks were themselves in the vain hope that an equaliser would kick some life into the semi-interested observers. This was difficult to relate to. I’d prepared myself for a culture shock and I was eager to see things from a different perspective, but I was more expecting deafening chanting and perhaps effigy-burning passion rather than general apathy. Alas, there was an exception. To my left sat a young man who was, in commentator cliché speak, ‘kicking and heading every ball’, clearly frustrated with the total lack of imagination from his beloved Greek side.
I felt I had to approach him, reluctant as I was, having been informed by one correspondent that the Greek attitude towards the English was that they are ‘gay’ (which would certainly explain this quite inspired chant from the fans of Olympiakos). To my relief, Kostas Champeropoulos, the least Greek looking guy in the bar with probably the most Greek name, spoke near perfect English, and was more than happy for me to join him and his friend George for the second half. They both seemed delighted to share their opinions on all things football once I had uttered the golden, and slightly fraudulent, words: “I’m a journalist.” Trust me, “I’m writing a blog” or “I’m doing this trip where I watch the World Cup in lots of other countries” doesn’t have anywhere near the same effect in getting people to talk. The only drawback was having to consistently bat away George’s enquiries as to where the Fourfourtwo headquarters were, primarily because I didn’t have a clue, but by the end he seemed relatively content with my temporary amnesia as to my place of work.
So what was behind the lack of blue-and-white draped souls shouting and screaming in futility at the numerous television screens around town? “In Greece I think it is a great shame,” said Kostas. “The fans and the media, they get very excited about clubs but not for the national team.” I struggled to take this in. These Mediterraneans only won a major trophy six years ago - that’s 38 less years of hurt than for the English - and now they have the cheek to say no one gives a crap? “But as you said earlier,” Kostas continued. “Euro 2004 was a once in a lifetime thing.”
“I saw England’s last game at Wembley against Mexico,” said George. “And the whole stadium was white. Sadly it is not the same in Greece.” Unless I’d misunderstood entirely and George was actually making an incredibly offensive racial slur, he was saying England are actually revered for something - wearing colours. But, there was more: “England are my favourite national team.” he continued, Kostas nodding in agreement. And there was further still: “I say they are going to win the World Cup.” Kostas stopped short of going along with this (he seemed the more sensible one), but they both seemed to harbour something of an inexplicable admiration for the Three Lions. I suspect it must have something to do with the fact that they were both members of the Thessaloniki Liverpool supporters club. The poor souls dreamt of going to Anfield one day. I told them it was a fabulous stadium with an awesome atmosphere, stopping short of telling them it was situated in one of the most affluent areas of the country, and that the local accent was extremely tourist friendly. George promised me an England-Argentina final.
Back to Greece, and Kostas insisted that although Rehhagel retained hero status for the exploits in Portugal, he was not untouchable. “This team he has picked today, it is too slow,” he complained. “They are playing too many long balls and he picks too many ‘favourites’ regardless of form. And I’m not happy with this half time substitution. He has taken off Karagounis, who is old, and replaced him with Patsatzoglou who is even older. We have better faster younger players on the bench.” And just like magic, Loukas Vyntra is robbed of possession in the final third and Park Ji-Sung races past their entire backline with ease and fires home. Lack of pace indeed.
Eventually, Kostas got his wish and the pacey Dimitris Salpingidis - a player from the local team he supports, PAOK - entered the fray and from then on Greece largely dominated the game, failing to capitalise on a number of half chances and strong attacking positions. The bar, in all fairness, was suddenly ooh and aahing, and there was even some of that half-jump-out-your-seat-quickly-sit-down-when-you-realise-it’s-a-miss action going on. But it was not to be, and my journey had began in defeat. Probably deserved, but Greece did, eventually, make a fist of it.
Kostas, ever the Greek, remained philosophical. “Miracles can happen,” he said. “If we beat Nigeria, then you never know against Argentina. Maybe Maradona rests some players.” “Maybe he puts Messi in defence,” I added. “This is Maradona we’re talking about.” Kostas’ faith in the miracle, I like to imagine, is a legacy from Euro 2004. Perhaps we’d all be a little less keen to write off our chances following one bad performance had we won a tournament at 150/1.
I departed, disappointed with the result but with my faith partly restored in the Greek sense of passion, even if it did seem to only be embodied by a pair of enthusiastic teenagers. Truly, I can’t speak highly enough of my two Greek friends - aside from paying for my beer and showing me to the cab rank, they clearly knew their football and gave me a real education in the Greek game (turns out everyone from outside Athens hates Athens because their clubs - Panathinaikos, Olympiakos and AEK - get favourable refereeing decisions and buy trophies, with smaller clubs unable to compete – sound familiar?)
The most passionate men in Greece, believe it or notSo having just officially crossed the border from FYROM, complete with ultra-suspicious studying of my passport from border police, my attention now switches to Serbia. This time I am not flying solo, having discovered a contact via my mother who is willing to meet me at the station at 6am - having not yet met Snezana, I am already humbled by her hospitality. Now let’s hope for lots of colours and shouting at a screen. It’s what I came here to see damn it.
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Serbia
Tournament odds 66/1
Remember the last time? Technically no, as the last time out in 2006 they had the help of Montenegrins. Not that it did them much good, stinking the place out with three losses in three including a 6-0 creaming by Argentina. If I worked for the BBC right now, I’d be contractually obliged to show you all 3 minutes footage of that Cambiasso goal, complete with all 6,784 consecutive passes.
Who do I recognise? Stand out names include Premiership ‘solid as a rock’ merchants Branislav Ivanovic and Nemanja Vidic (matches vs Torres or Agbonlahor aside), while Champions League winner and all round class act Dejan Stankovic runs the show from midfield. I remember Nenad Milijas hitting an absolute belter vs someone or other, while I will almost certainly feel compelled to dislike Milan Jovanovic and Nikola Zigic as they have signed for Liverpool and Birmingham City respectively, and I already dislike Vladimir Stojkovic for some awful goalkeeping against Man City this season . I am more interested, however, in the performances of old colleagues of mine, Aleksandar Kolarov and Zdravko Kuzmanovic - the former excelled whenever I called upon him for Lazio, and the second significantly under whelmed as a £22.5m signing for the same side. Don’t tell me it’s just a computer game.
Jarek’s Prophetic Vision Comfortable 2nd place as Ghana and Australia will disappoint.
Jarek’s Prophetic Match Vision Serbia victory by the odd goal. Ghana look vulnerable, and if Muntari is to miss out as well as Essien than I can see their midfield getting overran and their defence exposed. Never underestimate the Serbs ability to shoot themselves in the foot, though.
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