Oranje serves up a bitter lemon!

Holland's departure from the World Cup — yet another sad chapter in their history of gross underachievement...

Holland’s departure from the World Cup — yet another sad chapter in their history of gross underachievement — is marked by typical disharmony. The Oranje served up another lemon, and this one is bitter. First there was the verbal bust-up between Robben and van Persie, the Chelsea striker saying his Arsenal compatriot was too greedy with the ball. More significant, and perhaps having a greater impact on Holland’s fortunes, has been the obvious falling out between coach Marco van Basten and his star striker Ruud van Nistelrooy. The Man United player (soon to be ex-player), on paper the team’s main striker, was benched on Sunday and didn’t even come on as a sub. It was an extension of a long-running feud between the two and Van the Man’s face, as he watched his team slide out amid a series of dives that had us thinking this was an Olympic event, was a mix of disbelief, frustration and I-told-you-so. This is not how he wanted to remember his first World Cup, and it also reduces his leverage while searching for a new club.

In ‘Nick’ of time

I thought I was the only one getting lucky with tickets — till I met Nick at Mannheim station. Nick, from Brisbane, was in Dubai when he heard of Australia qualifying for the knockout stage. He booked a seat on a flight here but didn’t have one to watch the match. At Dubai airport, on his way out, he bumped into an acquaintance who was supposed to be part of a five-man Aussie cheering squad at Kaiserslautern — except that he couldn’t make it. Would you like my ticket, Nick was asked. He stopped himself from fainting just in time to say yes. And here he was, an hour away from K-Town, off to fulfil his dream. “The ticket cost me 340 euro but I would have paid double”, he says.

Nick also sums up the problem — if that is the word — of Australian supporters. His parents are Italians, first-generation migrants Down Under. Nick — who is fluently bilingual in “Strine”, the Australian dialect, and Italian — himself has always supported Italy at the World Cup; his loyalties were helped, he says, by the fact that Australia didn’t qualify after 1974.

Now comes the dilemma: Which team to back? “Everyone says I should support Australia, it’s the only country I’ve lived in, but this is a hard habit to break.” Nick’s solution is to carry both flags in his backpack and will watch the match as a fan of both the teams — and so a “neutral”.

Apparently fans aren’t so ambivalent Down Under, where Italian immigrants were among the leaders in spreading football. In Melbourne, Juventus Old Boys are the pioneers of the city’s football culture and their feelings echo Nick’s. There are parts of Brisbane, Nick says, where the loyalties are sharply divided — and openly displayed. There will be Italian-only Al Fresco dining and Oz “barbies” where each set of supporters will cheer its team on. Italia, Australia… the difference is not that subtle.

Sore experience

For anyone used to the culture of shops staying open every day, a weekend in Germany can be hell if you need something essential. A sore throat picked up on Friday could only be treated today because most pharmacies are shut through the weekend. I did spot one open in Munich on Saturday but the pressures of following tight train schedules took precedence; by the time I returned it was shut. On Sunday I spotted — at Mannheim station, of all places — a sign for a “drugstore” and it was open. In I went, and explained that I wanted anything, even a throat lozenge, to ease the pain. The salesgirl shook her head; you need a pharmacy, I was told. But isn’t this a drugstore? Yes but we don’t sell medicine, we sell food and coca-cola and toiletries. My problems were sorted out by a kindly shop assistant at the Frankfurt station.