Road to Berlin - Part I

Unlike my previous early morning footie vigils, I woke up an hour earlier this morning to watch the Germany-Italy match. I was rooting for both teams previously and couldn't really decide which one to support but favoured Italy slightly more.

The first half was gripping, with lots of attacking by the Italians (yes, the Italians who are famed for their defensive strength) and superb defending by the Germans. Dortmund is a strong fort for the Germans - they had never lost there before. Well, until last night that is.

Azzurri fell into their defensive mode in the second half. No goals scored either by the 90th minute. Ballack had a chance with a free kick but aimed for the stars instead and the game went into extra time. Bet the Germans were going Bullocks Ballack!

Was thinking it would be decided by penalty shoots - and Germany has a brilliant record for penalty shoot-outs and Italy knew this - when defender (!) Grosso curled a Pirlo pass past Lehmann with a minute left in extra time. Talk about leaving it to the eleventh hour! Barely enough time for the Germans to fashion a counter attack. I leapt out of the sofa and did a wild dance in front of the tube.

Then Juventus golden boy Del Piero slot in another beautiful goal to punish the host nation further. Another wild dance ensued.

The seemingly impenetrable Dortmund wall has finally cracked. And the Germans were sent home. In their own home.

Captain Cannavaro was exceptional throughout, marshalling the defence and ensured The Italian Job is done well (and a truly classical heartbreaking one too) and Azzurri maintained their 12-year cycle of the World Cup Final Match appearances.

VIVA ITALIA!!!

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I was in Italy the last time Azzurri was in the World Cup Final Match against Brazil. Didn't particularly fancy the Italians then and as such, didn't support them [not that I supported Brazil in that match]. I remember being in an Italian pub of some sort trying to catch a glimpse of the match in between the taller Italians around me. And quietly not supporting Italy ['cause if I did it openly, they'd gladly kick me out of there!].

And now, 12 years later, I am actually rooting for Italy (among others).

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Overheard on my way to work yesterday, a woman commenting loudly while gesturing at the previous day's daily that this World Cup was fixed, that everyone [who's everyone?!] was not satisfied with all the upset results, that it's inconceivable that Brazil got sent home 'cause they're number 1, that France must have done something to earn that win. She was obviously a Brazilian fan. Immediately this thought flashed through my mind: Oh lady. Get real. Even the Czechs got sent home early, and they're number 2. That's what football is. The ball is round. Your puking moralising makes me sick. [This last line should be familiar to my old mates].

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VIVA ITALIA!!!