By Phil Vandyke
You’d think going to a major world sporting event like the FIFA World Cup 2006 in Germany would be a fun experience, an exciting chance to visit a foreign country and maybe even take advantage of being in Central Europe to see a few other countries, as long as you’re there. You know. So, you would imagine that being there would be one of those experiences in your life that you would not want to forget, right? Well, let me tell you, my friend, that you could not be more mistaken. Massive crowds. Peculiar people. People gathering in random open spaces playing loud and obnoxious songs about God-only-knows-what. People buying anything and everything that peddlers sell -- stuff like shirts, hats, and metric tons of plastic trinkets that, you know as well as I, will get tossed in the garbage bin once they get home. The craziest things that people bought were these big German flags or shirts with German flags on them. These people weren’t German! Can you imagine buying the flag of a foreign country for yourself? I mean, that’s akin to treason in some countries, isn’t it? Is this unpatriotic or just uninhibited behavior?When I first arrived in Germany I could barely see where to go because of all the signs and banners waving along the roads. Boy, those Germans seemed really proud to have this event taking place in their country. It was as if they really liked this game called soccer (or football as it’s also known in a few parts of the world). But one word of advice to you Germans out there who might be reading this: at least, you should be good at the sport before you flout its arrival at your doorstep. Try being a humble host since you obviously don’t have much history in the game. (Oh, by the way, someone just told me that Germany has won the WC championship three times. Ok, I was wrong - sorry.) But the New York Yankees baseball team has won the World Series championship 26 times. So there. Ok, Ok, so “World” series might be a misnomer. . . Ok, so I’m zooming along in my rented BMW (a terribly designed vehicle by the way – the darn thing ran so quietly that I sometimes forgot it was on and tried to start it while it was running – they should work on that) on the these roads that didn’t seem to have any speed limit. Something called the Autobahn. It must be kind of famous because there certainly were lots of other drivers using it, and they were apparently quite comfortable with the “no speed limit” rule. I even tried it on an occasion or two. In fact one time I was speeding along for a full 15 minutes with the accelerator pedal completely floored, going about 240kpm. For 15 minutes! What lunatic lawlessness! If I even attempted such an irresponsible maneuver in America I’d be lucky just to get ticketed. More likely, I’d get hauled away to jail. And deservedly so. But, luckily, in America we don’t need police to prevent people from making such colossal speeding errors. The bumps and potholes in the roads would immediately catapult your car flying into the nearest ditch, effectively taking care of the speeding problem. Anyway, when I arrived at one of the host cities, like Leipzig, Frankfurt, or Stuttgart, right away I would be confronted with what seemed like a swarm of policemen just getting in the way of the traffic and rerouting it this way and that. Probably at random, too, just to spite us, I felt sure. They couldn’t have been doing anything less useful. I somehow made to the stadium area (By lucky chance the directions those policemen gave me worked, but I’m sure it was only because I was driving a German car) and was immediately surrounded by throngs of frenzied soccer fans. This soccer business really gets a grip on these people and turns them into crazy madmen. They seemed happy and frolicky, but I’m sure that if you took all the sport, drinking, singing, dancing, music, friendly groups, and picture taking away, they would probably not be enjoying it nearly as much. For example, after one game in Leipzig, (which was a pretty good game I’ll admit, except that there was no fighting like in ice hockey, on or off the field, probably because of, again, all the meddling police walking around) suddenly all the emotion from the fans of the losing team evaporated. See what I mean? Once their team lost, it just wasn’t fun anymore, and they only wanted to get the heck out of there. Well, there might have been a handful of them – just a couple -- who were good sports and let themselves be dragged out for a beer or two to drown their sorrows. Meanwhile, the fans of the winning team raced to the pubs, and they couldn’t sing loudly enough, even though they tried. It was me and about 50,000 strangers, all trying to get into the same bars or clubs or just a small table at one of the many, many outdoor cafes. The pain of the loss had obviously disturbed the visitor’s ability to make sound judgments because suddenly there they were, at it again with their songs and dancing and taking pictures of complete strangers – people they had been yelling at only moments before. You could barely walk in the crowds without bumping into people, each one happier than the last. There was so much commotion, even when I was ready to sleep at 3:00AM, I couldn’t sleep. With all the noise in every city, it was the same. You’ve got to hand it to the Germans. They made everyone feel like they were enjoying themselves, even when I know they really weren’t. In reality, it was a sad and forgettable ordeal. You’d have to be crazy to go to one of those things. By the way, does anyone know where I can get a ticket to the Olympics?
You’d think going to a major world sporting event like the FIFA World Cup 2006 in Germany would be a fun experience, an exciting chance to visit a foreign country and maybe even take advantage of being in Central Europe to see a few other countries, as long as you’re there. You know. So, you would imagine that being there would be one of those experiences in your life that you would not want to forget, right? Well, let me tell you, my friend, that you could not be more mistaken. Massive crowds. Peculiar people. People gathering in random open spaces playing loud and obnoxious songs about God-only-knows-what. People buying anything and everything that peddlers sell -- stuff like shirts, hats, and metric tons of plastic trinkets that, you know as well as I, will get tossed in the garbage bin once they get home. The craziest things that people bought were these big German flags or shirts with German flags on them. These people weren’t German! Can you imagine buying the flag of a foreign country for yourself? I mean, that’s akin to treason in some countries, isn’t it? Is this unpatriotic or just uninhibited behavior?When I first arrived in Germany I could barely see where to go because of all the signs and banners waving along the roads. Boy, those Germans seemed really proud to have this event taking place in their country. It was as if they really liked this game called soccer (or football as it’s also known in a few parts of the world). But one word of advice to you Germans out there who might be reading this: at least, you should be good at the sport before you flout its arrival at your doorstep. Try being a humble host since you obviously don’t have much history in the game. (Oh, by the way, someone just told me that Germany has won the WC championship three times. Ok, I was wrong - sorry.) But the New York Yankees baseball team has won the World Series championship 26 times. So there. Ok, Ok, so “World” series might be a misnomer. . . Ok, so I’m zooming along in my rented BMW (a terribly designed vehicle by the way – the darn thing ran so quietly that I sometimes forgot it was on and tried to start it while it was running – they should work on that) on the these roads that didn’t seem to have any speed limit. Something called the Autobahn. It must be kind of famous because there certainly were lots of other drivers using it, and they were apparently quite comfortable with the “no speed limit” rule. I even tried it on an occasion or two. In fact one time I was speeding along for a full 15 minutes with the accelerator pedal completely floored, going about 240kpm. For 15 minutes! What lunatic lawlessness! If I even attempted such an irresponsible maneuver in America I’d be lucky just to get ticketed. More likely, I’d get hauled away to jail. And deservedly so. But, luckily, in America we don’t need police to prevent people from making such colossal speeding errors. The bumps and potholes in the roads would immediately catapult your car flying into the nearest ditch, effectively taking care of the speeding problem. Anyway, when I arrived at one of the host cities, like Leipzig, Frankfurt, or Stuttgart, right away I would be confronted with what seemed like a swarm of policemen just getting in the way of the traffic and rerouting it this way and that. Probably at random, too, just to spite us, I felt sure. They couldn’t have been doing anything less useful. I somehow made to the stadium area (By lucky chance the directions those policemen gave me worked, but I’m sure it was only because I was driving a German car) and was immediately surrounded by throngs of frenzied soccer fans. This soccer business really gets a grip on these people and turns them into crazy madmen. They seemed happy and frolicky, but I’m sure that if you took all the sport, drinking, singing, dancing, music, friendly groups, and picture taking away, they would probably not be enjoying it nearly as much. For example, after one game in Leipzig, (which was a pretty good game I’ll admit, except that there was no fighting like in ice hockey, on or off the field, probably because of, again, all the meddling police walking around) suddenly all the emotion from the fans of the losing team evaporated. See what I mean? Once their team lost, it just wasn’t fun anymore, and they only wanted to get the heck out of there. Well, there might have been a handful of them – just a couple -- who were good sports and let themselves be dragged out for a beer or two to drown their sorrows. Meanwhile, the fans of the winning team raced to the pubs, and they couldn’t sing loudly enough, even though they tried. It was me and about 50,000 strangers, all trying to get into the same bars or clubs or just a small table at one of the many, many outdoor cafes. The pain of the loss had obviously disturbed the visitor’s ability to make sound judgments because suddenly there they were, at it again with their songs and dancing and taking pictures of complete strangers – people they had been yelling at only moments before. You could barely walk in the crowds without bumping into people, each one happier than the last. There was so much commotion, even when I was ready to sleep at 3:00AM, I couldn’t sleep. With all the noise in every city, it was the same. You’ve got to hand it to the Germans. They made everyone feel like they were enjoying themselves, even when I know they really weren’t. In reality, it was a sad and forgettable ordeal. You’d have to be crazy to go to one of those things. By the way, does anyone know where I can get a ticket to the Olympics?
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