I don’t mean: What the Fuck, how can one drink so much with a pair of Norwegians and still make it onto a 07.30 train feeling more or less OK?
I don’t even mean: What the Fuck, how is this quite blatantly real curse so strong that it can prevent the world champions from defeating a team whose squad features four amateur and two unattached players on the greatest stage of them all?
What I mean is: What the Fuck - how can so many coincidences be true without some form of divine intervention? That’s right - my day was so weird, it has actually made me revalue my atheism.
And the same was true of my Norwegian companions. I first spotted Christer Husstøl returning to his seat from the bar at the Clauricane, in the rain-soaked city of Bologna. Struggling to locate English speaking Azzurri fans, I approached him for two reasons: 1) He was wearing an Italy shirt; 2) He looked relatively young looking, therefore increasing the chances of him speaking my native tongue.
As it happened, him and his friend Emir Puzic had just recently bought the (fake) Italy tops and were as Italian as I was, but they had met some genuine Ities minutes earlier who spoke very good English indeed. A little more on them later.
But first, the following is a rough overview of the conversation myself had Christer had, minus the regular cries ‘I don’t believe it!’, once I‘d explained the premise of my trip:
Christer: Ah, you are doing the same thing as us.
Me: Oh really? That’s incredible, where have you been?
Christer: We are sort of working from west to east - we have done France, England, Spain and Holland.
Me: Ah, I am working from east to west. Greece, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia.
Christer: Yes but the problem is we are cursed - France played terribly against Uruguay, England couldn’t beat USA and then Spain lost to Switzerland.
Me: At least you have one win - I saw Greece and Serbia lose, and Slovakia and Slovenia throw away leads … Well anyway, this will sure make for interesting reading on my blog.
Christer: Ah, so you are writing a blog about it too … Where are you staying?
Me: It’s called something like Hotel Giorgino [sic], near the station
Christer: Just across the bridge?
Me: Yes. Does your key look like this?
Christer: Yes … Where in England are you from?
Me: London, but I am from the West Midlands originally.
Christer: The West Midlands… Are you an Aston Villa fan?
Me: Yes.
Christer: Me too. I have goosebumps right now.
So we were doing the exact same trip, writing the exact same blog, descended on the exact same bar in the exact same rain-soaked city, were staying at the exact same hotel, supported the exact same football team and brought with us the exact same curse. And just as we’d established all these facts, minnows of the tournament New Zealand scored from a set piece against the current holders Italy. I honestly believe it warrants utterance once more: What The Fuck. Putting it into writing only highlights the absurdity of it all further; I am still, some twelve hours later, shaking my head in disbelief.
Between us, we had watched eight games, including those of three of the tournaments big hitters, and had witnessed one solitary victory - Christor and Emir were fortunate enough to be in Rotterdam for Holland’s 2-0 defeat of the Danish last Monday. I then started to look back on our combined matches: Xabi Alonso rattling the crossbar, Robert Green’s woeful attempt at keeping goal, Zdravko Kuzmanovic’s moment of handball idiocy, Winston Reid’s last gasp header, Slovenia’s capitulation from a healthy lead, Raymond Domenech’s persistent presence as France’s head coach - these things all happened because of us. There could be no doubt about it. It was too coincidental. And just as I came to this conclusion, Riccardo Montolivo struck the ball from distance and the ball rebounded off the inside of the post. Had us three chosen to stay at home this summer, Italy would have had a 2-1 lead.
Of course I’ve barely mentioned the match here, but what is there to say? Italy were doomed to failure the second we stepped into the country. Once more, I felt bad for the fun and friendly locals; the three Italians that Christor and Emir introduced me to - Marco, Corrado and Luca - were all to happy to discuss the game with me and the Norwegians, bought me a Guinness (Irish bar, obviously) and provided me with footage of the most fun thing about Italy - seeing the natives sing their fantastic national anthem, Il Canto degli Italiani, even if they didn‘t appear to know quite all the words:
Their thoughts generally were that Lippi perhaps shouldn’t have made a u-turn following post-World Cup winning retirement, that they didn’t have a great chance of winning this years tournament and that Fabio Cannavaro was well well past it (Cannavaro recently signed for Dubai club Al Ahli, stating perhaps a little disingenously "I have achieved my dream by playing for a big club like Al Ahli"). They said Capello good, England not so good, and they didn’t have an answer as to why Italy are able to produce so many incredible managers (Lippi, Capello, Sacchi, Trappatoni, Ancelotti etc). “We just do,” they said.
The tiniest bit of conciliation of the whole affair, other than meeting five fantastic people, was that Chris Wood’s effort with seven minutes to go sailed wide of the post and thus Italy at least ‘held on’ for a draw - even if their equaliser did appear to come through a somewhat dubious penalty, the offence being no worse than is committed around a hundred times per Serie A match. Nonetheless the locals enjoyed it, convinced, as were we, that it would be the first of a few and that Italy would go on to win convincingly:
Marco, Luca and Corrado appeared to be unable to offer little more than a melancholy shrug at the full time whistle - an extremely familiar sight by now.
Continuing the theme of bumping into unexpected nationals, a group of typically Carnaval Brazilians lined the streets of Bologna to celebrate their victory over the Ivory Coast. Most were sure they were going to win the World Cup - one, I presume either completely drunk or just taking the piss, said it would be England.
The cursed journey goes on. So sorry Switzerland fans, you are not going to win today, and nor will Germany defeat Ghana or Holland defeat Cameroon. Additionally, I feel bad for the Slovakians as Christer and Emir’s presence will ensure that Italy manage to win their first game of the tournament against them. Although I love them so dearly, I don’t feel as bad for the Slovenians as thankfully the same ought to be true for England on Wednesday.
Initially reluctant, as it is in Norwegian and allegedly is too informal, I eventually persuaded Christer and Emir to allow me to put a link up to their blog. Being the gents that they are, they promised to compose the next one in English detailing how they met me - and you can read it here. Here we are all are, plus Italian photo jumpers, at the Clauricane:
I’d like to offer my utmost thanks to Christor and Emir for some wonderful company, taking me to a fantastic restaurant and picking a beautiful wine, speaking impeccable English and generally being brilliant people. Here’s to a miserable Zürich and Maribor, guys.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Switzerland
Tournament odds 250/1Remember the last time? I have been desperately trying to wipe away the horrific memory of their Second Round vs Ukraine in 2006, in which after 120 goalless soulless minutes they eventually lost on penalties (managing to score absolutely none of them), but sadly it remains locked away in the part of my brain I call World Cup memories. Less of that please this time round lads.
Who do I recognise? When I flicked through my World Soccer Magazine World Cup guide, I thought I recognised Ludovic Magnin, but it turns out that’s just because he looks like Villa centre half James Collins. Alexander Frei continues to lead the line, as he seems to have done forever, while Everton’s Philippe Senderos is an important feature of their back line. Mario Eggimann possibly has the best name at the tournament.
Jarek’s Prophetic Vision Victory over Spain kind of threw my Switzerland predictions out the window, but of course they will lose to Chile, recovering to beat Honduras in their final group game. They’ll go out in the second round, probably to Portugal, probably on penalties.
Jarek’s Prophetic Match Vision This was one of the few matches on my hit list I had actually predicted to lose before the tournament started. 1-0 to Chile: Switzerland will hit the woodwork fourteen times, have eight shots cleared off the line, lose four players to injury and the nation will possibly go bankrupt as a result. At least I have Chile in the work sweepstake.
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