World Cup Road Trip World Cup 2006 – The Road Trip – Barcelona to Berlin

km 5300

Berlin ! Yep I’ve made it. Bronny’s hammered out over 4 and a half thousand kilometres to get here. I travelled up with Dirk yesterday from the country town of Marburg. A full on thunderstorm greeted us, approaching the city we could see the lightning forks and the cracks of thunder, and as we made it to the city centre the heavens opened and it hammered it down for half an hour solid. Not ideal weather to navigate the unknown streets of a big European city! Finally after circling the area where our hostel is about 5 times, we managed to sneak into a parking space. The summit had been reached!

When I was young, Berlin was the symbol of the Cold War, this place that was in the news a lot, where everybody lived behind a big wall, and they shot people who tried to climb it. At least that’s how it came across to a small kid. And then of course, to those a few years older, it signified wartime Germany, the nerve centre of the Third Reich and all the horrors of that regime. Now it’s more known for it’s young cosmopolitan vibe, creative and cultured, the centre of a unified Germany and the hedonistic home of the Love Parade.

So it was quite moving to be driving along the Autobahn, each kilometre bringing us closer to this capital city with so much history and reputation. And the city that on Sunday will host the World Cup Final, the grand finale to this fascinating tournament that’s been going on over the past month, the end of the month long marathon of football and fiesta and the coming together of people and cultures from all over the world.

As we arrived on the outskirts of the city we decided to take a break and grab some food, and this is when one of those crazy, screwed up travel ‘coincidences’ happen. We drove up and parked on this road called ‘Spanische Alley’, Spanish Avenue, quite appropriate I thought. When we got back to the car there was a van parked alongside with a bloody Barcelona number plate ! After a month of driving through Germany, I’d seen one other Spanish car in Stuttgart. And then we arrive Berlin, drive up the bloody ‘Spanish Avenue’ and one parks alongside us. Headfuck! The Argentine couple that were driving it were a bit bemused by my reaction to seeing the Barcelona plate, they’d driven directly up from Spain in two days, obviously didn’t realise how rare it is to see a Spanish car outside of southern Europe.

We’re staying in a hostel in the district of Prenzlauer Berg, which is a trendy little area to the north east of the centre. So far I’ve only seen this little section of the city, but so far it really reminds me of Barcelona. Lots of young people from all over Germany & Europe, and farther afield as well. Street side cafes and terraces are dotted with people drinking a midday coffee or eating a fashionably prepared salad. Bicycles are everywhere, it’s definitely the preferred way to get around Berlin. I guess the good weather that we still have (we’re already back to 30 degree heat after yesterdays storm) adds to it, but there is a really good vibe here, am looking forward to staying around for the next week or so.

The past few days before Berlin I’ve spent in Wolfhausen, a small village near Marburg, where Dirk’s parents live. It’s a great place, real countryside, totally different from the cities and towns I’ve been visiting so far. The terrace at the back of the house overlooks farmland, meadows and wheat fields and small copses of trees, with a line of poplars marching alongside a small stream. There were even half a dozen hay bales in the fields. On Tuesday that was the venue for the big semi final, Germany v Italy. The TV was brought out onto the terrace, and as a German flag was flapping from the flagpole at the bottom of the garden, we ate freshly barbequed Bratwurst and drank local beer. There were three generations of the family there, Dirk and his sister Jana, their parents, and their grandfather. And the neighbours as well. I felt very privileged to be there, able to experience another unique atmosphere to watch the drama unfold.

Before the game they were playing German football songs, both old and new, with mother and daughter leading the singing. Grandfather was very nervous, he was worried about the Italians. The clock approached nine, the teams came out, the anthems were played and finally we kicked off. It was an absorbing game, made more so by the partisan crowd around me. I was also pulling for the Germans, wanting to see them make the Berlin final. Half chances came and went for both teams, it seemed a pretty even game. The main difference was the Italian defence, a blue rock, the Germans really weren’t getting much of a sniff in front of goal. Reports at halftime said that there were 250,000 people watching the game in the centre of Dortmund, and more than a million on the ‘Fan Mile’ in Berlin! After the break it was much of the same. Every five minutes Dirks Mother would bang out a rhythm on the drum, finishing with a shout “Boom, ba-boom, boom, boom .. SIEG!” “Sieg” meaning victory. Around the table people were reacting in different ways. Grandfather was a bag of nerves, sure that Italy would score, Dirk and myself were talking at the TV like coaches on the sideline, telling them to play the ball down the line, use the space more, that sort of rubbish. Jana was quiet for long moments, totally caught up in the game and the atmosphere, but coming to animated life with any slight German chance.

Extra time. 0-0, after 90 minutes, but it had been a great game. Then within two minutes Italy had hit the post, and then the bar. Big sighs of relief all around the terrace Lippi, the Italian coach, was now employing four strikers. Italy, with four strikers, has that ever happened before? The Italians didn’t want to this to go to penalties. But still the game was level, and the clock counted down towards the spot kicks. Podolski suddenly had a free header in front of goal, everyone was on there feet, but he steered it wide. “Scheisse!”, said the two siblings at the same time. Into the second period, Italy are pressing and pressing, but the Germans are holding them. A great save from Lehmann and the ball is out for a corner. 118 minutes on the clock. The corner swung over, was half cleared out to a blue shirt on the edge of the box. A delicate ball played into the area, and as if in slow motion, Grosso the Italian defender curled a magnificent shot into the bottom left corner of the net.

Sheer disbelief around the TV, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. We looked on in silence as the Italians ran over to their bench and celebrated wildly.. Two minutes from the end of extra time, everyone knew it was hammer blow. From the kick off the Germans mounted an attack, but the blue defence broke it up, and surreally the ball came through to Del Piero, who skipped a defender and steered an exquisite lob over Lehmann into the corner of the net. 2-0. It was over, there would be no dream final in Berlin. Grandfather immediately got up and headed home. Everyone is shell shocked, I was feeling pretty guilty at being the outsider in the moment that the euphoria that gripped the host nation deflated. Dirk, ever the optimist, recovered first. “No problem, four more years, we go for South Africa 2010!”. Mother, father and neighbour were fatalistic, a shrug of the shoulders and within a couple of moments they were all chatting and laughing together. It hit Jana harder though, she’d been really caught up in the fervour that has gripped country over the last month, she was finding it tough, needing a bit of time and space to come to terms with the defeat, after all the emotion that had gone on before. Like me after the England game.

And so the German Train was finally de-railed. The reaction around the country has been pretty good. People are sad and disappointed, but also very proud of their team, and also what’s happened in Germany over the last month. After all the confidence in the team as they came into the tournament, especially from the media, was very low. Some had doubts if they’d even get past the first phase. But since the last minute goal against Poland the movement has been going, and the victories against Sweden, and then Argentina have had the whole country behind them, with this patriotic fervour that hasn’t been seen here in the ‘new’ Germany. Ballack, Podolski, Klose and all the players are now heroes and icons for their country, Lehmann is the ‘Elfmeter-king’ (penalty king), and everybody loves Jurgen Klinsmann. But I think deep down people knew that this might happen, that their team was playing at a noticeably higher level than the sum of there parts, and that eventually a really good team would find them out. Italy were that team. In fact having watch a few parts of that game again later, it was really noticeable how much the Italians were dominating the game, something that got lost in the drama of the live broadcast. They were deserved winners, not least for Marcello Lippis brave tactical decisions.

The next day the beautiful ‘aldstadt’ (old town) of Marburg, we watched the second semi final. From a small plaza under the shadow of a huge maple tree, amongst tall medieval houses with criss crossing beams and weird shaped windows, with a classic castle overlooking proceedings from the top of the hill above the town, we saw Zidane and the old French guard kick out the Portuguese, and most enjoyably, and i could use many terms here, but will just say ‘over-confident’, Cristian Ronaldo. Without doubt my villain of the tournament. It was nowhere near the absorbing game of the night before, Zidanes excellent penalty the only goal, but the French looked quite comfortable in the end.

So the World Cup Final will be between France and Italy. This Sunday in the Olympiastadion in Berlin, there will be two classic storylines battling for the trophy. Can Zinedine Zidane inspire ‘Les Bleus’ to glory and lift the World Cup in his last match before retiring from professional football. Or will the Azzurri restore the pride and belief in football again in an Italy which has been rocked by the amazing domestic scandal which might see four of their top teams relegated to the lower leagues? Two of the best teams in the tournament for sure (the French have made me eat my words after I slated them as old and past it!), wouldn’t it be great if the tournament finished up with a classic final?!

As you can imagine I’m getting pretty excited now, there’s not many things that are bigger for me than a World Cup Final, and to actually have a ticket for the game on Sunday is a childhood dream. I’ll try and write a bit in the next couple of days on how Berlin is building up to the big game. You can sense anticipation in the air already, i imagine it should really take off over the next 48 hours as everyone starts arrives in the city for the game. We’ve also got the third place playoff in Stuttgart tomorrow, something that normally nobody gives two hoots for, but because Germany will be involved, the fans here wants to get behind their team one more time, to say thank you for the last three weeks. Not sure where we’re watching it, possibly at the now famous Berlin Fan Mile.