Sneak a peek, to paradise

German officialdom is not as stern or rigid – or, indeed, as humourless – as it is painted out. Stuck for yet another match...

German officialdom is not as stern or rigid – or, indeed, as humourless – as it is painted out. Stuck for yet another match (Germany-Argentina) without a ticket – cricket reporters should come here for a reality check – there was no way this writer was going to watch the game on TV with the stadium, and the crowds, in earshot. In a similar situation at Munich’s Allianz Arena, I’d sneaked through to a standing-room position because the guards weren’t checking for match tickets, only for the accreditation badge.

Berlin was different, Ms Merkel was in attendance, it was a quarter final and tickets were essential to get from the media centre to the stadium. I was sent back once, I was sent back twice; at half-time, at the end of 90 minutes. Just before extra time started, I tried again, motioning to the guard that watching it on TV wasn’t much fun. Then he smiled, said he couldn’t let me in to the press box but “if you go round this corner, you can watch”. Round the corner was the stadium’s Marathon Gate, which leads to a concourse right up to the pitch. Of course, there was a high barrier about a mile away from the pitch but we could see through the bars.

Not good enough, I decided, so I sneaked off round another corner of the imposing stone edifice and found an entrance where they weren’t checking. It’s there that I found my vantage spot, right beside the elderly Argentinian in a wheelchair and his huge hulking son.

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And to observe that moment, when Germany won and son dissolved into tears and they were a tiny speck of despair in an ocean of delight, it was all worth it. Sometimes football is as much about the people in the stands as the people down on the park.

Tickets, for less!

Gelsenkirchen is a small town (a little more than 2 lakh people) overrun today by the English fans. There are supposed to be 100,000 fans here, 80 per cent of whom don’t have tickets but have the will to party. Add to that around 1,000 policemen flown in from England and you could say the mining folk of Gel’kirchen are slowly getting outnumbered.

The England fans are at their boorish best but there was a surreal moment on the train here. The chanting, swearing and generally offensive talk was in full swing when two Portuguese men walked in with accordions and struck up some nice, happy tunes. They kept smiling, applying all their Iberian charm, and even got some grudging smiles out of the English!

Demand for tickets to this game is obviously very high (it may be the last we see of the English); “I need tickets” placards worn around the neck are passé and won’t get you much. One man tried a different tack: PLEASE GIVE ME TICKET, his sign read; underneath, in smaller print, Will exchange cash + my mistress. Only the really charmless would insist on seeing a picture of said mistress.

Air supply?

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Things aren’t much better at the media centre. It is hot (outside temp is 30+, inside, without much aircon, it feels double that) and will get hotter. The press centre is as overwhelmed as the town; the more Nordic among the journalists have flopped beside the ventilation points, unable to bear the humidity. Sales of yoghurt are up, beef & noodles down.

Things are likely to get worse in the stadium because they have shut the roof on the request of the TV producers to cut down on shadows; not only does it cut out the light, it cuts out all air. So I hope you feel a twinge of conscience if you see us gasping for breath.

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