The World Cup experience hits you as soon as you touch down in Germany. Weeze Airport (the old RAF base at Larbruch) is a spartan place at the best of times but they've done it up with posters and bunting and I headed straight for the big screen in the bar to check out what had been happening while I was in the sky. The Swiss did the business against Togo, meaning Tricky Dicky's lot have to beat Switzerland on Friday to stay in the tournament, assuming the French see off Togo. Methinks South Korea will have to settle for gallant failure.
There were plenty of England fans on our flight, including a group with Cambuslang accents who quickly latched on to an army wife who claimed to come from Barrhead. "Barrhead?" asked one of the Bears. "Is that near Baurheid?"
With the airport bus taking forever and a day, I hopped off at Dusseldorf and completed the trip to Cologne by train. The city is an international melting pot. In addition to thousands of Swedish and English fans in town for Tuesday's match, there are Brazilians, Argentinians, Japanese, Portuguese, Swiss and, hey, even a few Germans.
By the time we parked our arses in a pub, Ukraine were well on their way to restoring some form of order to Group H by racing into a 3-0 lead against Saudi Arabia and a late fourth goal confirmed that Shevchenko and his mates are back in business. They couldn't possibly be as bad, or get so many rotten breaks, as they did in their opening game and I still think they'll do a bit of damage and claim a major scalp before their World Cup is over.
A few hours later we were in a packed boozer for Spain v Tunisia and, having missed the team line-ups, I wasn't sure if Hammy Namouchi was playing. An hour and a half later I was still unsure and it wasn't until after the final whistle, when the TV cameras showed him swopping his jersey, that I saw any evidence of his presence on the pitch.
For a while Tunisia threatened to pull of a shock but, once Raul got the equaliser, there was only going to be one winner. Could this Spanish team be the one to finally make an impact in a major competition? I'm not so sure. Without the award of a soft penalty in the opening moments of the second half against Ukraine, I'm not convinced the Spaniards would have held on to their half-time lead and, having made heavy weather of beating Tunisia, I'll be very interested to see how they cope when faced by one of the major nations.
Out into the streets after the game, the city was bouncing but it was generally good-humoured. The English were the loudest of the lot, with lots of references to the war, and I found that, while there were plenty of Liverpool, Chelsea, ManUre and Arsenal fans around, the ones making most noise were the fans of the smaller clubs like Burnley, Forest, Mansfield and Darlington. I understand it is the same with the Tartan Army, with whom the fans of such as Morton, Ayr United, Stirling Albion and various Highland League outfits tend to be the cheerleaders.
The songs were still ringing out all over the place when I decided it was time to head for my cot at 3 a.m.
Tuesday, June 20
Emerging from my billet at the Weidenpesch Hilton (the Koelsh's hoose!), I lapped up the sunshine and quickly realised that, despite all the England v Sweden hype, there would be another major game today. For all the talk of this being the worst German team of all time (they tried to pull the same trick four years ago), they are my tip to win it and the host nation has certainly entered into the spirit of the thing.
Flags were hanging from every window, cars were also showing the colours and it quickly became clear that not too much work would be done in the build-up to the Germany v Ecuador game. Apparently there has been a great social debate about the political correctness in being proud to be German. Left-wing politicians (hand-wringers to you and me) are apologetic about everything but the people have taken control of events, they are the ones making all the noise and contributing greatly to the carnival atmosphere.
The town was overrun by England fans and most were without tickets. Everyone seemed to be wandering around with 'tickets wanted' notes draped around their neck. One joker had found himself a loud-hailer, announcing his willingness to pay 800 euros for a brief. When I met up with a group of England fans an hour or so later, they were telling me he had upped his offer to 1,000 euros. Tickets had been snapped up by corporate interests (I had hoped to get one for myself via such a source) and they clearly recognised the value of the goodies. Touts were doing a roaring trade. As always, the genuine fans appear to be last in line when football's bosses are distributing tickets.
Out at the ground the Rhien-Energie Stadium is on the site of the old Mungersdorf but Bears who followed Rangers to Cologne in 1979, 82 and 88 wouldn't recognise the place. Just as Rangers did with Ibrox between 1978 and 1981, the old oval bowl has been transformed into a tight football ground, with the fans close to the action, but as security was watertight we couldn't get beyond the outer-cordon.
In addition to a big screen facility near the ground, there were fan parks with huge video screens dotted all over Cologne and they were quickly packed out long before the German game kicked-off. With my lady friend having been on a business trip involving meetings in Caen, Paris and Bonn, she wasn't due in Cologne until five past four. Five minutes after kick-off! Thats women for you! With all the fan parks sure to be filled to capacity, with strictly no pass-outs, a group of us found a pub at Rudolfplatz and decided to make that base camp for the day.
Needless to say there was some musical entertainment and we made our own little contribution. Guess what? The Billy Boys got big licks, not a solitary soul was offended and some Mexicans even broke into a spontaneous round of applause. But maybe Britney was lurking in the background and rattled off an indignant e-mail to FIFA. England fined for sectarian song shame? I don't think so.
As Germany and Ecuador were lining up for kick-off, somebody shouted: "Come on, Scotland!"
"Are you lost, Jock?" a Cockney voice shouted back.
"Lost? Naw, Ah just lost ma way hame in 1974 - when we retired undefeated! How did your lot get on then?"
The banter was good and it certainly added to the good humour all around that Germany were quickly in control. They were 2-0 up by the time I'd picked up my lady and it was just a matter of how many after that. For all the doubts about the German team, the punters are enthusiastic enough and, no sooner had the final whistle blown, than a massive convoy of cars draped with flags was roaring up and down the road. With all those in the pubs coming out to applaud the motorists, I couldn't help but remind the Koelsch:
"C'mon big man, it was only Ecuador."
And so to the England game. I wasn't sure about this one. My views on the English media hype are well known but I simply can't stand that cheating bassa Larsson. As the Swedes have shown no sign of using Karl Svensson, I decided my club loyalty should go to Marvin Andrews so, if England were to win the game, I wanted them to win it well, then I could hope for Trinidad & Tobago to sort out Paraguay and nick the second qualification spot.
We were joined by Brian from Londonderry, his Brazilian ex-wife, her brother and West Ham fan Mickey (yes, he was!) so, with the Koelsch, his crowd and various lady friends, a round for our table required the attention of two waiters. Michael Owen's early injury was the first talking point and Eriksson's decision to go for Theo Walcott ahead of Jermaine Defoe had clearly back-fired.
When Joe Cole opened the scoring, it looked like it would all work out fine for England but their second half efforts at defending corner kicks and long throws were shambolic. After Allback had equalised, England were on the back foot and were lucky when, after a cross had inadvertently struck him-wi-the-tongue on his napper, the ball hit the crossbar. Sven might have shocked a lot of folk when he brought on Gerrard for Rooney but it also looked like a master stroke when the sub headed the English back into the lead just five minutes from the end.
However, more poor defending at the near post enabled Mellberg to level the scores in injury time. Don't believe any brown-nosing media reports about Larsson getting the equaliser. Mellberg got the last touch after the diving one's fresh air swipe at the ball, yet it was the former Barcelona squad player who claimed the goal. Once a cheat, always a cheat.
Back in the town centre afterwards, everyone was happy…except us. Paraguay's victory over T&T killed off any hope of Big Marv getting a taste of World Cup action but, after a few more shandies, our pain mellowed. That meant another 4 a.m. shift for us.
Wednesday, June 21
Cologne had that morning-after-the-night-before aura about it as all the refugees resurfaced. But as the English packed up and moved on, heading for Stuttgart, the fans of Portugal and Mexico appeared to have learned a lesson from the our southern neighbours and they were the ones walking around with 'tickets wanted' labels around their neck.
Booked on to a tea-time flight, we had to take it easy (just a wee bit!) so we passed the time away nursing a few beers and discussing the bigger picture. The possibility that Michael Owen's World Cup could be over was cruelly ironic, given the great furore over Rooney's fitness, and lack of cover up front could cost England dearly. Ecuador shouldn't pose them too many problems but, from the quarter-finals onwards, every player in every position will have to be right on top of his job. They certainly haven't been too bright in England's opening three games.
But World Cup matters were not the chief topic of conversation. There is a wee problem with my pal the Koelsch. Between you and me, I think he has murdered his wife. I've taken advantage of his hospitality on a regular basis but I haven't seen his good lady for ages. OK, so we are usually rolling home in the middle of the night, then not emerging from a coma until early afternoon, but whenever I ask about her I get the same old answers. A business meeting/ the doctor/ the hairdresser (delete where applicable). I'm getting suspicious. I think I might even descend on him unannounced before the end of this World Cup and, if she ain't around, I reckon a wee tinkle to the local polizei might be in order.
We caught the first half of Portugal v Mexico on the big screen at the airport and the Portuguese certainly showed a bit more urgency than they had done against Angola and Iran. We had to race to the boarding gate at half-time and, on landing at Prestwick, we found out they'd held on to their 2-1 lead to win the group.
With Argentina and Holland meeting to decide Group C, I hurried home to settle in front of the box but there was something anti-climactic about it all. Having savoured the atmosphere in Germany, putting the feet up and guzzling a few cans is a piss-poor substitute and, with both sides having dropped all their yellow-carded players, there was a lot of shadow-boxing going on in Frankfurt. The 0-0 scoreline was no surprise and, while the quality of fitba probably merited a couple of goals, the game lacked the necessary hard edge. But it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that they could meet again on July 9. It would be a totally different encounter then.
Checking the clock and seeing it tick past 10 p.m., I reckoned it was time for an early night and the comfort of my own bed. But I might just check out the cheap flights, drop in on the Mad Axeman Of Cologne and do another 'live' diary before this World Cup is over.
LITTLE BOY BLUE