The joke teller in question was just one of a ridiculously large amount of ultra-friendly Slovenians I came across during my brief stay in Ljubljana. It would seem that the second a Ljubljanan native hears a foreign accent or language being spoken in their proximity, their immediate reaction is to turn around with a smile and say “Hey, where are you guys from?”, even if they are something of a nervous wreck as they watch their football side play essentially the biggest game in their history. They tend to get even friendlier when they realise you’re not American, before inviting you and all six of your hostel buddies back to their small flat for more beers and conversation.
It was, of course, a day when anti-American sentiment was stronger than normal. Most Slovenians possessed a fervent desire to slay the ‘capitalist dogs’, so it was with great delight that we invited two Americans we met from the impressive Hostel Celica to the distinctly un-touristy Lepa Žoga on the outskirts of town. Translation: Beautiful Ball - a sports bar so keen on sport, you can watch the match while having a pee:
Justin and Christina cunningly joined for the second half only, fist-pumpingly shouting "Yeah!" in that way only Americans can when Landon Donovan smashed in USA’s first goal. They were also savvy enough to keep their mouth shut when an equaliser was scored, although every Slovenian afterwards said that there wouldn't have been any hint of trouble had they chosen to celebrate. I like to think that Justina chose not to make a noise out of courtesy for the dejected Slovenes rather than out of fear - not all Americans are culturally insensitive loudmouths of course, and even the most bitter US hating Slovenians we spoke to were more than happy to accept this. Perhaps the pair just didn’t care about soccerball.
But continuing the theme of sense of occasion and atmosphere increasing with each country I visit, Ljubljana surpassed Bratislava for raucous and passionate support:
The national anthem, Zdravljica - ‘The Toast’ - which you can see being belted out in the first video is yet another reason to love Slovenia, as France Prešeren, the drunken poet who composed it, breaks the mould of war-hungry national anthems by pining for a positive and harmonious world: God‘s blessing on all nations who long and work for that bright day / When our Earth‘s habitation no war, no strife shall hold its sway / Who long to see, that all men free / No more shall foes, but neighbours be. Don’t ask me why it rhymes so perfectly in English.
The chant which followed Valter Birsa’s beautiful first half effort is Fdor ne skače, ni Slovenc: who doesn’t jump, is not a Slovenian. The one guy you can see not jumping, in case you’re wondering, is indeed not a Slovenian but an Englishman, Ryan, who I was fortunate enough to meet at the hostel. Perhaps he was worried for next week.
The grief vulture cameraman side of myself did not make an appearance this time; partly because of a reluctance to rub the draw-that-felt-like-defeat in the host’s faces by photographing their misery up close, but mainly because the disappointment wasn’t quite as compelling as it had been in the Slovak capital. People were sad, of course, to have seen such an impressive lead thrown away, but most were realistic enough to accept that a draw was a more than respectable result. And although they didn’t say as much, I’m sure they all acknowledged that they were in fact quite fortunate to draw, considering there was absolutely nothing wrong whatsoever with Maurice Edu’s 86th minute ‘goal’.
Slovenia is a nation of just two million inhabitants: this makes results like this, as well as qualification for World Cup 2002 and Euro 2000, and many of their other sporting achievements - including relative success in handball, basketball and several Olympic events - quite staggering. And you can see why - one thing that is instantly noticeable when you walk through Ljubljana is the complete and utter lack of the overweight. As well as their country and their guests, Slovenians know how to take care of themselves.
And yet they sure know how to party as well. I won’t go into detail of the frankly brilliant nights out Ljubljana can provide, but I’ll just confirm that it strikes an incredible balance between casual liberalism, safety, originality, variety and low prices. The most disappointing aspect of the Americans coming from behind was the denial of a true party atmosphere in the town afterwards - horns were still being honked and flags were still being waved with immense pride, but you just knew that it would be multiplied by a thousand had they held on. Judging by the performance of England a few hours later, a 90 minutes which frankly left me pining to be a Slovenian, you most definitely can not rule out those who are in the city being treated to such a spectacle on the 23rd.
“We do not have a lot of people, but we always play with the heart” was a sentence I heard at numerous times. Reflected in four words, “Small County, Big Balls” - a slogan on the t-shirt of a waiter who served me a surprise beer from my wonderful host for the day, Sara - these are the types of claim that inhabitants of nearly every nation on the planet makes, but I believe in Slovenia I have found a country which goes some way to justifying it. Although I obviously haven’t been so enwrapped in love for the Little Dragons that I want them to achieve the draw/win they will so desperately crave against England to ensure qualification to the second round, nothing would please me more than seeing Algeria defeat the US in order to see them through.
I initially stated that my aim was to see how the World Cup was enjoyed in other countries, but now it would seem that I am conducting some form of comparative study on how different nationalities deal with bitter disappointment and heartbreak. I am pleased, nonetheless, to see Greece and Serbia recover from my presence to win their following matches.
Watching Italy vs. New Zealand in the lively student town of Bologna now already seems to represent something of a last chance saloon in terms of ridding my back of the Curse Monkey. If the outright impossible happens and Winston Reid et al contrive to defeat the great Azzurri, then the Swiss, Germans and Dutch can all write off at least one of their forthcoming fixtures. To reiterate the gulf between the two nations, Italy are the first true footballing powerhouse on my itinerary, and the current world champions; New Zealand have players from Plymouth Argyle and investment banking.
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Italy
Tournament odds 16/1
Remember the last time? I don’t think I’d be much of a World Cup blogger if I didn’t. Those late late goals from Fabio Grosso and Alessandro del Piero in the semi final will forever be among my all time top World Cup moments.
Who do I recognise? The names Criscito, Maggio, Bocchetti and Bonucci, to my shame, mean very little to me. Which is surprising, as they make up a majority of this year’s famously cynical/negative/wily/sitting on a lead Azzurri defence. Those who deride the Italians for picking too many old timers may wish to look at the three teams who have a higher average age in their squad: Australia, Brazil and England.
Jarek’s Prophetic Vision New Zealand and Slovakia will fail to pose the same problems as Paraguay, and they’ll advance. However, a shock defeat to Denmark awaits in the Second Round.
Jarek’s Prophetic Match Vision Screw it. Perceptions of Italian negativity and the idea of a traveller’s curse will be thrown out the window with a 5-0 Azzurri smashing. Take that, Winston Reid.
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