I searched around town for over thirty minutes trying to find a public viewing but to no avail. Since I just arrived a few hours before, I had no idea where to go. Defeated and heartbroken, I gave up on my quest and opted for the nearest cafe where I saw people staring at the nearest TV like zombies. While I’m not one for sporting events, it never fails to amaze me just how much power these games have on people around the world. I entered the cafe, grabbed a beer, and eagerly took my seat among the entranced crowd. All I wanted that afternoon was to see some rampant, profanity-filled yelling, a table or two flipped over by an angry spectator, and if I was lucky, maybe someone would get hauled away by the police before the game was over.
I’m really a man of simple needs…
…with no realistic expectations whatsoever.
I didn’t settle in until the start of the second half and when I looked up to see the score it was 3-0 in favor of Germany. It was a ass-kicking if I ever did see one. I quickly realized people in the cafe were only watching the game out of loyalty to their team and hoping for a miracle. Sadly their prayers fell on deaf ears, because a few minutes into the second half, Germany scored again. There was hardly any talking after goal number four and the overall atmosphere was one of solemn, melancholy reflection that you would find at an actual funeral.