Gutted in Gelsenkirchen

Thankfully I make a few notes for my blog as events unfold. I hope this will mean that this posting is not clouded by the ending we all know is coming and still gives you a sense of what it was like on our latest World Cup trip to Gelsenkirchen ... we shall see.

We headed off on Friday morning with what sounded suspiciously like a creaking clutch cable. Undeterred - and in possession of European breakdown cover - we headed to the Eurotunnel which was absolutely packed with English football fans all making their way to Germany once more. This meant that the route to Gelsenkirchen was lined with English cars, motorhomes and bikes all displaying their flags and, like us, full of expectation for the quarter final ahead. Highlights included a St George's Cross being waved at the roadside to attract the attention of other English drivers who may be able to come to the aid of a motorhome full of Scousers who had run out of diesel just a couple of kilometres before a service station. They had despatched someone on a mountain bike to the garage but he still hadn't returned! Another English car had posters taped into the windows which read "Wanted: 2 tickets to England v Portugal".

There had been no time to prepare healthy food for the journey so thank God for Pret at Eurotunnel and their fine sushi and fruit salad - eaten in the sunshine in Holland as we took a break. Which was just as well, as the Antwerp ring road - usually heavy with traffic - was solid due to the volume of cars heading out to Germany. Border controls were also in place - which I was blissfully unaware of as I was asleep! - but we were waved through once again.

We had hoped to make it to Gelsenkirchen in time to pick up our match tickets and watch the Germany v Argentina quarter final but we were still half an hour away as kick off approached. We had miraculously been getting a Radio 5 Live signal through Holland but just when we needed it most it started breaking up just after Alan Green uttered "England will be more likely to beat Germany than Argentina".

The only advantage to us running late was the complete absence of any local traffic on the roads, despite it being Friday rush hour. As we drove into the city you could see tumbleweed rolling down the streets and a distinct lack of any Germans other than where a TV screen was sited. We made it into the hotel - the Ibis right next to Gelsenkirchen station which was a great location but also populated by meatheads - and tuned into the game straight away.

We couldn't believe Pekerman's substitution of his two best outfield players in the second half with only a 1-0 lead. It looked suspiciously like he was settling for that result, completely forgetting that you can't write the Germans off until they are in the shower! We imagined the grief Sven would get if he did that and, sure enough the inevitable happened and without their creative players it went to penalties. The German commentator said "Germany are very strong at penalties - especially against the English" in his build up to the spot kicks. Thanks for the reminder!

The moment the winning German penalty went in, people emptied out onto the streets and a cacophony of cheering, singing and car horns started. Our central location was ideal for watching the scenes unfold as the German flag was suddenly everywhere and the English fans celebrated with the hosts.

We headed out for somewhere to eat, settling on an Italian restaurant which we thought would provide a good setting for the second quarter final. Sure enough, the Italian owner had set up a TV and we sat down to eat just as the game kicked off. There were 3 Italians at the table directly between us and the TV and it was great to watch them reacting to the game and abandoning their food in the process. The Ukrainians were never likely to win and it was a happy atmosphere in the restaurant as we left after some excellent pasta and a couple of bottles of wine.

We headed down the main shopping street towards the station on our way back - which had been too busy to walk up earlier - and admired the efforts of the locals in creating a real party atmosphere. It was lined with lots of stalls selling food, drink and footie paraphenalia and was a sea of colour with the celebrating German, Italian and English fans swarming amongst the streets. There was an open air stage in a small square with a band led by an accordion player (each to their own) and even the police seemed to be enjoying themselves.

We woke on the day of the game to the chants of "Ing-er-land" as the usual English haunt of the main train station was already populated by English fans gathering in numbers and making the most of the local beers. We headed out to collect our tickets for the game in blistering heat. The queues were enormous and we realised that maybe we should have forgone a few minutes of the Germany game to sort this yesterday. Thankfully, the N-Z queue moved pretty quickly and it was only an hour before I had my hands on my match ticket. The A-H queue was struggling though, so I sought out some shade and blagged a corner of a huge Man City flag someone had out down and soon got chatting to its two owners - Sean & Jamie.

We exchanged tales of our football travels over the years - there is something nice about the camaraderie between fans who are drawn together by their love of the game and commitment to England. Very often you have nothing else in common with them and may not even want to spend time with them out of the football setting, but the friendliness - especially at tournaments - is a real plus. Eventually, their mate came over with his ticket so I lost my temporary seat and I went to see how James was doing - fortunately near the front of his queue and, after 2 hours, we both had our tickets and vowed to go the day before in Munich.

We made our way back towards the station and stopped at a Trattoria for lunch before we got to the busiest part of town. Of course, this is all relative, as the place was heaving and the bar staff had assigned one person to just constantly fill glasses of beer and still they couldn't keep up. Some of the staff looked like they didn't know what had hit them - and this was the quieter part of town! Two freshly made and very tasty pizzas later and we headed off to the game, squeezing into a very warm tram with plenty of other fans keen to get to the ground early and soak up the atmosphere. One had a klaxon which he hooted constantly and when it died, pleaded with his mate for another. His mate explained to us "usually it's 18 beers and a klaxon, but this one has had one beer and gone through about 18 klaxons" before berating his mate, like he was his mother, and telling him he would have to wait until he got into the ground! I took on someone who tried to sing "10 German Bombers" with a forceful verbal instruction (!) and soon the light hearted "5-1, even Heskey scored" started up to the amusement of the German fans on the tram. They retorted with "We're going to Berlin" to which the English sang "5-1 in the final" which produced big smiles all round. "Super Frankie Lampard", "Steve Gerrard, Gerrard" and other players songs soon followed as we finally made it to the ground, just under 2 hours before kick off.

The tram stop was very close and the stadium loomed up on a small hill in front of us - very impressive. Behind it the old stadium, now an amphitheatre, and home to big screens for all those without tickets to watch the game. The walk to the ground saw the nerves kick in and I realised that subconsciously I had never worried about us losing up until then. Maybe it was Portugal missing key players, the feeling that this tournament was our destiny, the belief that the players would step up and turn it on. Whatever had been holding the nerves back vanished as the butterflies escorted me through the turnstiles.

We saw 2 fans relieved that their tickets had passed through the barcode reader - they'd paid £500 each for them on the way to the ground - and wondered how many English would be there (estimates after the game suggest 45,000+ out of the 53,000 in the stadium, with over 60,000 at the 3 big screen sites in the city alone). Our seats were on the top tier and we had the pleasure of glass lift ride, giving spectacular views of the crowds below and the amphitheatre - much better than thousands of steep stairs to the Gods at Old Trafford!

The view inside the stadium was breathtaking. Although not the biggest ground, it was beautifully designed and was a joy to look at as the fans started to trickle in. The retractable roof was closed giving the impression of a much cooler space than outside, but I suspect once the place was full temperatures rose, although we never felt overly hot. Another giant video cube in the centre of the roof displayed England's progress to date and all the statistics on the two teams which really set the scene. Our seats were on the front row of the top tier with a fantastic view as we rested our heads on the cool concrete in front of us and waited for the players to emerge.

During Lisbon 2004 we said we'd paint our faces if we got to the quarter final and the same deal applied here. After James had made a complete hash of a small St George's cross on my cheek, I went to wash it off and apply it myself. He declined my offer to paint his face, going off to the gents to do his and coming back with such an extreme example of face painting he scared the life out of me (see photos for full horror!)

We saw more familiar faces from fan groups and previous game and everyone was in good spirits expecting an England win. I predicted 1-0 to England, James 2-0 and as the players emerged the English fans took the roof off with their cheering and singing which remained pretty constant throughout the game. Maybe it was because the roof was closed and it kept the sound in more, but it was one of the best games I've been to for the sheer noise made by the fans. Not one hint of "10 German Bombers" and lots of "Stand Up for the Ing-er-land" which saw virtually the whole ground on its feet, confirming our expectations that this would feel like a home game. And so to kick off...

Once more we started brightly and while much had been made of Rooney's inability to play the lone striking role, I thought 5 across the middle was the right move to counteract the creative play of the Portuguese midfield. The shape and balance looked OK but the gap between midfield and Rooney was too great which was confirmed when only 10 minutes into the game Sven was off his seat (almost a first in itself!) with him and Steve McLaren urging the side to push up, not defend so deep and for Gerrard and Lampard to get up and support Rooney.

The Portuguese seemed intent on proving their nasty match against the Dutch wasn't a one off and fell down at the merest hint of a challenge. James started looking round for the sniper in the crowd (I suspect to ask him to stop using blanks and take a couple of them out) but the referee fell for it every time. English fans were incensed at their antics and took it out on Scolari, who was hopping mad on the edge of the technical area, with chants of "Sit down, shut up" and "You'll never manage England". I had felt that, as a team, we had not resorted to the double somersault and pike school of falling over and our play had been clean - evidenced by just 3 bookings going into the game and two of those for time wasting! I'm sure if I go back and watch the games I'll see a couple of "falling over" moments, but comparatively to the Portuguese we were saints. And it was riling the crowd who were furious at their tactics which just fuelled the singing and support to get noisier.

The Terry injury (God, were we glad he got up!) saw McLaren briefing Gerrard on the touchline and he roamed more freely after that and looked much more his usual self but Rooney was being so well marked - at least by one, often by two players - that the opportunities were thin on the ground. But this renewed movement by Gerrard seemed to inspire others and we were stronger as the first half ended - we almost didn't want the referee to blow.

Our verdict at half time was that they didn't look better than us, we had an over fussy (and Argentinian!) ref and what on earth were we going to do without John Terry (after his booking) against Brazil or France?! It was a nervous half time though, with everyone anxious for England to score and settle those nerves. James was my hero at half time - dashing to almost the other side of the stadium for ice cream to provide quality comfort food at the start of the second half.

Again, we started brightly and seemed to be picking up where we left off. While the Portuguese would get forward they never looked like getting past our defence so we were willing England to create and then take advantage of those chances. We appeared to be denied a stonewall penalty which got the crowd riled even more and the continued efforts of the sniper seemed to be paying dividends for the Portuguese. Figo and Ronaldo had switched sides - as Figo had been getting nothing past the excellent Ashley Cole. When Lennon came on for Beckham we looked a more potent and pacy attacking force but we weren't getting the ball to him often enough. Rooney's scuffed chance and Gerrard missing the rebound had us all in agony. Rio Ferdinand seemed intent on hoofing long balls, rather than passing it out of defence in the way he is famous for doing. The referee continued to be awful - it seemed like everytime they went to ground, they would get a free kick, but everytime we went to ground we got nothing. By now, my adrenalin and nerves were probably the highest they have ever been at a football game and my screaming was at fever pitch.

Then Rooney got sent off and I thought I might explode in a combination of anguish and fury. It looked to us as though he had been sent off for a push on Ronaldo who had fallen down like he had been punched by Mike Tyson. For a crowd incensed by what they had seen as constant cheating by the Portuguese this was an outrage and the venomous shouting reached a new level. Even in a moment of clarity when I pointed out that if you raise your hands on the pitch you run the risk of being sent off - almost a certainty with this fussy ref - I couldn't forgive Ronaldo for milking it the way he did. (It was only after the game that fans found out he had been legitimately sent off for the tackle, not the push - so bear with us here!)

The boos - formerly reserved for persistent divers Figo and Maniche - were now ringing out around the ground every time a Portuguese player touched the ball, especially Ronaldo. I was wondering how the hell we were going to cope in the semi final without Rooney and Terry and hoping that the fairytale would be Rooney's return to score the winning goal in the final. The last 30 minutes of normal time was a combination of screaming, singing, trembling, shouting and swearing - it was exhausting. I loved the fact that we played so well when we were down to 10 men, we pushed forward to at least try and create chances and win the game, and our defence never looked like being breached despite wave after wave from the Portuguese. I really thought we'd nick it one nil at the death and when we knew it was going to extra time I was confident that our magnificent defence would not be passed.

And so to more of the same. Waves of Portuguese attacking players, us trying to nick a goal on the counter. As the end of extra time approached you could almost taste the anxiety in the crowd. Conversations started about who would take penalties and praying for Sven to make sure as many of the best takers were on the pitch at 120mins. Unlike Pekerman, Sven threw on the right substitute in the form of Carragher - one of England's best penalty takers - and, as the referee blew his whistle we all prepared ourselves for the most stressful minutes ahead and a hellish way to settle a football match in the goal closest to us.

Robinson takes his place in goal to a resounding chant of "England's Number 1" which he applauds. They score, we miss and it feels awful. I've shouted so much I have almost lost my voice. They miss and Owen Hargreaves steps up to words I bet he never thought he'd hear from English fans "There's only one Owen Hargreaves" and we score. The cheer, leap and relief was so great I almost faint and James has to sit me down. They miss and give us hope. Lampard steps up to the sound of "Super Frankie Lampard" but, as has been the case in the whole tournament, never looks confident, and misses. They score and an exhausted looking Steve Gerrard steps up to the sound of "Steve Gerrard, Gerrard" but he takes a poor penalty, looking as though he barely has the energy to kick the ball. They score. And super-penalty taking sub Carragher steps up to keep us in it...he scores!! But he has to take it again. And everyone in the ground says "he's bound to miss it now". He does. Ronaldo - perceived architect of Rooney's dismissal - steps up to resounding boos. He takes his penalty and scores, compounding the sense of injustice. And the biggest sound of the entire game is the deafening silence of 45,000+ England fans with the hands on their head or head in their hands as though frozen in time. And then the tears come - streaking my St George's crosses pink and the injustice of it riles - awful refereeing, a player unfairly sent off, us bravely holding on. Why, oh why did it have to end like that? The drop from the furious adrenalin to complete numbness is a long way to fall and we both sit in silence for a good 20 minutes or so, only standing and making a sound to clap the players as they disconsolately walk round the pitch applauding the fans who had sung their hearts out for them and willed them to win. But it was not to be.

We step out onto the concourse and drink water as we look out at the tens of thousands crestfallen England fans trooping back out to the tram stops. We hold back to avoid the crowds, both of us hoping that the injustice of the defeat doesn't spill over into trouble on the streets. We make it onto a tram almost an hour after the end of the match and James is the first person to speak "we didn't step up and turn it on like we should have". I agree but it is too early for me to acknowledge that as the pain of the defeat is still so raw.

We get back to the hotel to find the bar full of people watching Brazil v France and the score is one nil. Talk is already buzzing about plans for Euro 2008 qualifying games and speculation about McLaren's reign. We are not sure we want to watch any more football today. We have the unpleasant task of sitting at a computer cancelling hotel bookings and other arrangement for our anticipated onward travel and find that we can't get a Eurotunnel crossing home on Sunday - too many have beaten us to it - so book a beach hotel in Northern France instead. We get a bottle of wine from the bar and retire to the room, giving in to the temptation to watch the game and starting to reflect on England's performance. The result means only European teams remain and only Italy of the teams who topped their group. The realisation that I had put a £1 bet on Brazil not winning at 60-1 before the tournament started so I was £60 up couldn't even generate a smile or smugness about being right! We didn't feel like drowning our sorrows in public so got a second bottle of wine, takeaway noodles and drank ourself into a drunken sleep.

Unfortunately, the next day didn't bring a different result. We were still numb and not talkative and in some ways it was worse. There were so many symbols of going home - throwing away the directions we didn't need, the unopened case for the next stage of our travels in the boot, the CDs we wouldn't get chance to listen to on the road. All minor things with major resonance. We saw all the headlines in the newsagents - "Tears and a Clown" the worst - and so many doleful English fans with their heads buried in newsprint. We bought the English papers and I insisted on an ice cream parlour for breakfast. Even three scoops of excellent ice cream didn't cheer me up! Devouring the match reports, the realisation that Rooney's sending off was fair sunk in. But it didn't take the edge off the feeling that the Portuguese had dived their way to the next round or the heroics of our 10 man performance. The foul count of 21 to England and 9 to Portugal told its own story of the refereeing - over double any foul count of an England game prior to that, although there was no criticising of the referee which made me wonder how much "group think" had a part to play in the fans view within the ground.

As I finished the article the reporter praised England for their determination in adversity and persistent attempts to win the game and as I read the words the tears started again. I simply couldn't believe that we were out of the tournament, but I guess that's what people on the streets of Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro.

On the drive to France there were more English number plates on the road than any other and even the flags and other decorations looked sad. Most of the journey was silent with us reflecting on what might have been, until we reached our hotel. We headed to a beachfront cafe, ordered fine seafood, fine wine and local cider and proceeded to get pleasantly drunk with the conversation not turning towards football once for the first time in the previous few weeks. BBC news channels in the hotel brought us David Beckham's resignation as captain and a montage of their coverage brought a tear to my eye once more, so sad that our World Cup adventure is over.

And now, in the cold light of day, it is possible for me to say we didn't do enough. We watched the Germany v Argentina game and the Germans took the few chances they had. Watching the highlights of the game, if we had taken just one of the dozen or so chances or half chances we'd have won that game as they never looked like breaking down our defence and instead of feeling glum we'd be wondering how the hell we were going to beat France with no Terry and a striking partnership of Walcott and Crouch! Sven gambled with his squad selection and the Owen injury made it the wrong bet. You can question the formation but for once I think he made good substitutions and did the best with what he had while some players just didn't step up.

Robinson was solid and is clearly our best keeper. Ashley Cole returned to his best in the tournament and nullified everything thrown at him by the opposition. Neville was excellent and, at 31, we will miss him. Rio was steady, though played too many long balls from defence, but formed a strong partnership with Terry who was magnificent and would be my pick for the next England captain. Gerrard underperformed - when we played 5 across the middle and he had licence to get forward he never took that chance while Lampard barely turned up, lacking in confidence throughout. Beckham is still the best taker of set pieces we have and his passion and commitment to England is evident but Lennon's pace shows what we miss with him on the right. Michael Owen was unfit before he got injured and doesn't look the player he once was, while Joe Cole finally came of age in an England shirt managing to combine possession and trickery to create a real attacking option on the wing. Rooney was isolated up front on his own, lacked service but was also missing his quality first touch due to a lack of match fitness, squandering the few chances he did get. His temperament is also still an issue. Hargreaves played out of his skin once he was put in the role he excels at and not used as a utility player and, after 6 years of playing under Sven, finally got the fans behind him.

As for the squad players - the future's bright on the right, the future's Lennon. Still not the finished article but definite potential there. We didn't really see enough of Carrick - he can certainly pass the ball but I suspect is not as gutsy at tackling back as Hargreaves. Crouch was often played on his own, unsupported and isolated but he worked hard. Carragher always looked like he cared but will only ever be a utility player, Campbell is a player in decline and will not make the next tournament while Downing offers pace on the left but needs to work on his final ball.

And so, 5,000 miles later, our old S reg Clio which has done us proud, will bring us home. Memories of Germany abound, from the warm welcome of the wonderful hosts, the impressive stadia, the carnival atmosphere and a cracking World Cup. Onto Euro 2008 and, if enough of you tell me you would be interested, I will carry on blogging during our qualifying campaign and beyond ... 104 games and counting.

GELSENKIRCHEN FOR TWO PEOPLE
Match tickets: £118
Travel: £344
Accommodation: £252
Spending Money: £267
Gelsenkirchen Total: £981
Tournament Total to date: £3942
Watching England go out on penalties in the quarter finals (again): priceless!

PHOTOS AT: (please bear with the lack of match photos - I was slightly preoccupied!!) http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/3497378

Stuttering in Stuttgart but Still Standing!

Our longest trip in terms of miles (1,100 miles) and time (5 days) saw us enjoying the delights of a scorching Stuttgart. But before I get on to that a quick line or two on common questions from readers to earlier postings.

Are the Germans good hosts? They are absolutely fantastic. Everyone we have met has gone out of their way to be helpful and friendly and all are keen to chat and party with England fans. As you may expect from the national stereotype, everything has been very well organised and proceeded without a hitch.

The second frequently asked question was to do with a lack of information on the local food and drink. The reason for the lack of culinary reference is because we make our own food for the journeys - generally a healthy wild rice, quinoa and cannellini bean salad with some fresh fruit (hark at us!) We always sleep too late for breakfast and, travelling with a vegetarian, tend to eat tapas or Italian food as the local German sausage doesn't count as a vegetable! But I will endeavour to get more food references in and seek out some culinary delights during future stays. And yes, the beers are very large. But neither of us drink beer. James tried some of the Frankfurt speciality of Apfelwein when we were there, but as a hardened cider drinker declared it too weak and sour to be worthy of the cider name!

Budweiser being the sponsor has not gone down well with the German breweries - when we had visits from the host cities to fan forums in London they were all competing for the title of "city with most breweries/beers" (Nuremberg won with over 150 by the way!) but this doesn't include Munich as we only had visits from the cities for our group games. I have been slowly pickling myself in the vino - but none of it German until this trip!

So, back to the Stuttgart trip ... as we headed off to Eurotunnel it felt like the first game all over again - excitement, anticipation, nervousness. The second game should have been easier than we made it and the third was less important as we had qualified already, but this one was do or die and so the excitement levels were as high as ever. We had a slightly different route through Luxembourg to southern Germany and, despite the lack of borders, could see a discernible change in the landscape. Northern France very farming led, with a trend for planting trees around your house in a range of topiary efforts. One had Christmas trees all around it which must take forever to decorate each December! Belgium is more twee rural whilst Luxembourg is much like Kent and other parts of England.

James produced an e-mail from his friend Justin - a fellow Saints fan - with help in our "Saints and Villa players, past and present, at the tournament". It brought us to 9 each and set a competitive and brain stretching tone for much of the journey to our stopover on the Belgian and Luxembourg border. We just missed dinner at the hotel so, tempted though we were to eat our home made healthy lunch for the next day, we ended up with a rather unhealthy combination of Pringles, chocolate and 2 bottles of wine (urgh!) but there was BBC on the TV in the room so we could watch the football with English commentary and punditry.

The next morning saw news of fan trouble in Stuttgart on the BBC. Historically when travelling with England your heart always leaps when you hear a siren and you hate turning the news on or reading a paper the day after a game. I have never witnessed any fan trouble first hand in my 16 years - but plenty of over eager riot police - and frankly, in the past 6 years there has been nothing to report. Throwing chairs or bottles is unforgivable but the report suggested that the German fans had started it and that many of the arrests were preventative. The key for me about the report was that it was very balanced - the journalist went to great pains to point out that there had been 50-60,000 fans in the other cities and no trouble, that the English fans had been praised for their contribution to the party atmosphere and that there were variations in regional policing styles. This is a massive change from the old style media coverage where fans were all tainted with the same brush and the minority really did spoil it for the majority.

Reassured that it was nothing serious we hit the road on a gloriously sunshine filled day with the temperature topping 35 degrees. I can heartily recommend giving Saarbrucken a wide berth as we drove for 10 miles around its ring road with only the largest industrial landscape and factories I have ever seen as scenery - not attractive. Our route took us off the autobahns for 30 miles and high into the beautiful forests of Southern Germany which were a welcome change from the industrial view and enabled us to stop for our very healthy lunch in stunning parkland. James was equally as impressed with his discovery at a service station - Jack Daniels and Coke in a can! As we approached Stuttgart we were greeted with a fantastic floral tribute, with the flags of all competing nations drawn in flowers together with the scores from the games between those nations on the grassy banks lining the road and drove straight to the stadium to collect our tickets.

You receive vouchers for the knockout stages of the tournament and, when we had exchanged them for our tickets in Portugal, we went on the day of the game and queued for hours. Getting there the day before the game saw a very swift exchange but a gruelling walk in the baking sun. The rear car park at the stadium had been turned into a campsite and was full of St George clad motorhomes and tents (on the concrete!) with more arriving while we were there, greeted by a site attendant on a Vespa who could guide them to their spot. One motorhome stood a little distance from the group as it was complete with a full sound system, decks and a DJ entertaining the campers!!

After checking into our hotel - no air conditioning and, bad enough that Europe is obsessed with twin rather than double beds, this one had them built into a unit with fixed table in between that did make it feel a bit like you were on school camp! - we headed into town just before the end of the Germany v Sweden game. As we left the hotel and boarded the tube it was like tumbleweed was rolling through the streets - apparently, absolutely everyone was watching the game. When we got out at the main train station we were greeted by a cacophony of noise as cheering fans filled the subway and when we reached ground level all the cars were beeping their horns and waving flags from windows. It felt like they had actually won the whole tournament, but I guess when over 75% of the nation didn't think they would get out of the group stage before it started it must have felt like it to them!

James had studied the Rough Guide and marked recommended restaurants on the street map before coming into town. But once we got there we realised we weren't going anywhere anytime soon - the streets were brought to a standstill by the celebrations of the German fans and we were barely able to move, let alone get our bearings in the midst of the giant party going on before our eyes. We found a great place by default - tapas/tex mex/Italian food, cocktail happy hour for 2 more hours after we arrived, cool music, great location and big screens for the game - sorted!

Two guys who used to work with James in Sheffield - Dave and Grant - joined us after our description of the venue got their thumbs up. Grant works for an online marketing agency and as Gillette were a client, had pitched the idea of being their fan in a camper van for the tournament and - to his complete delight and amazement - they had bought the idea. He had been travelling around Germany in a camper van with one mate for the first 10 days and now Dave was taking over as his sidekick for the remainder of the tournament. We watched the Argentinians finally look fallible against Mexico - winning with a gorgeous goal though - and many fine mojitos and caiprinhas later we were joining the locals on the dance floor before staggering home in the small hours via the tube filled with various fans and one German who had celebrated himself into a coma - check out the photos!

Tip for you all - large quantities of booze followed by attempts to sleep in a room which becomes a sauna as the 35 degree heat starts to force its way in does not a good start to the day make! It was so hot in the room we had to dowse our heads with cold flannels to cool our temperature and this didn't fill us with optimism for the conditions for the game. I finally dragged myself out of the hotel at 1.30pm and we headed to the ground, wearing as few clothes as was decently possible and - whilst recognising we are not world class athletes - struggled to come to terms with moving in that heat, let alone play football. Visions of Ecuadorians rubbing their hands with glee came to mind and the nerves really kicked in.

My willingness to play by the rules and get off at the stop the train announcer asked us to rather than the one which appeared to be right next to the stadium subjected us to a long walk in the sun to the right side of the ground - via Ecuadorians giving out free Ecuador bags and Panama hats (did you know they originate from Ecuador?) and the Pompey schoolkids who FIFA has sorted tickets for - and we were grateful to get inside, get some water and be undercover. The heat was overwhelming by now and the fans inside the ground were lethargic and praying for the forecast break in the weather to materialise before kick off.

Our seats were just 3 rows back from one goal mouth but, unlike Cologne, the presence of a wide running track meant the perspective was out of alignment and the height of the cameras and photographers behind the hoardings also created some poor sight lines. However, we were at the World Cup knock out stages and nothing could dampen our enthusiasm or limit the nerves which had reduced me to a fidget - not sure whether to sit or stand, sing or be quiet, be optimistic or fear the worst. As the stadium filled up you could hear the muttered conversations about the impact of the heat and start to feel a collective tension from the thousands of English fans which, once again, made the fixture feel like a home game even with the splash of yellow from the Ecuadorians.

England's players left it very late to come out and did a limited warm up in the slightly shaded area of the pitch while Ecuador were running and training in the scorching heat whilst barely breaking a sweat which did nothing to ease the tension. And so to kick off...

As with our other games we opened brightly and the balance of the team looked good. I would probably have picked Carragher at right back but it looked promising - the holding midfielder giving more scope to Lampard and Gerrard to get up and support Rooney. However, Gerrard failed to make the most of his freer role and Lampard currently couldn't hit a cow's arse with a banjo. Ashley Cole had his best game yet in the tournament and we looked better with Ferdinand back but suffered from the same problem we have throughout - the lack of a quality final ball. It is either mis-hit, an optimistic long ball or over complicated approaches giving the opposition time to get back and defend. Sven passed the ball back onto the pitch on a couple of occasions and it was almost as though he was trying to remind the players to do what we do best - a strong passing game on the floor. Having seen our generally poor second half performances, everyone felt we needed at least one goal, if not to be comfortably ahead by half time, so it was a very nervous ground when we went in at half time 0-0.

Shortly after the second half kicked off someone started up the 10 German Bombers song - with 6 Germans in front of us (some English fans had clearly decided that the value of their tickets was too good to pass up) I felt acutely embarrassed but the anxiety of what was in front of us, coupled with the heat induced lethargy was rapidly affecting the willingness and ability of fans to sing as they resorted to nail biting and holding their head in their hands instead!

When Beckham's goal went in there was a clear delay before the cheer went up from the crowds. The net had barely seemed to move and those that did see it thought it was side netting, but once it was confirmed - and replayed on the big screens - there was a palpable sense of relief. But only for a moment. The mutterings of needing to be ahead of half time and not coping with the heat was replaced by spoken fear that we couldn't hold on to this lead and that the rest of the game would be fraught with danger as we tired. The only consolation for these fears was the fact that at least we tried to get a second goal to finish the game off - which made a nice change - but the same lack of final ball was evident no matter what we did.

Robinson and Carragher both picked up unnecessary bookings for time wasting - particularly concerning in Robinson's case as frankly we have less cover in goal than we do up front - but it is notable how few cards England have had so far in this tournament. When Lennon came on his pace and attacking intent was such a welcome sight - I wonder how we can make better use of him and Beckham, but I guess that would mean either Lampard and Gerrard in the holding role of a 5 man midfield as Sven seems intent on picking the best 11 players rather than the best team.

When the final whistle went there was a rather lacklustre cheer from the fans to start with. I'm not sure if that was to do with the heat or whether it just didn't feel like a victory. We had struggled to win against a team we should have beaten comfortably - heat or no heat - and again looked unconvincing as an attacking force and team, so it was more relief than celebration. If we play like that next Saturday we'll be coming home. However, as the PA blasted out "Football's Coming Home" and other celebratory tunes, the realisation that we were in the quarter finals of the World Cup filtered through and saw us all singing and dancing in the ground until the stewards had to ask us to leave!

We strolled back to the area of our hotel - stopping off at an internet cafe to book our next tunnel crossing and hotels - before discovering a nice Greek restaurant to eat at. We sat outside as the skies darkened. The rain we had all been praying for earlier started and we persisted for a while but when it turned into a full on tropical downpour with thunder and lighting we relented and went inside! Fine swordfish steak and vegetarian mezze with a drop of nice German biodynamic wine later and it was time to find a place to watch more footie and find out who would be facing England in the quarter finals.

We found a tiny local bar with about 6 middle-aged Germans, a Croatian and a barmaid who was more like your mum! Definitely a local bar for local people! The German guys cleared space and went out of their way to make us welcome to watch the game. Our basic grasp of each other's languages saw them pleased that England had won and 4 out of 6 were convinced they could end Argentina's tournament. This would concur with James view of a Germany v England final being destined for this World Cup! A couple of other England fans joined us - one Saints and one Arsenal - who were out as football tourists, and told us of a bureau called Euronext where you could pitch up and buy tickets to England games for around £250, with the sellers holding sheafs of unwanted sponsors tickets. With tickets selling for closer to £500 near the ground, there was potential for another layer of touts to develop, with fans buying more tickets than they needed from the bureau then selling them on to cover their own costs.

The Portugal v Holland game was certainly dramatic and the sight of 2 of the best Portuguese players getting sent off - meaning they will miss the England game - together with a few drinks, made us smile more as the evening wore on and we staggered back to the hotel. The rain hadn't lowered the temperature much, with the sun still shining on us as we left Stuttgart the next morning. We stopped at the same service station on the way back - primarily so James could get more JD & Coke in a can! - and it was over run by English fans leaving Stuttgart either for England or another game elsewhere in Germany. The poor woman in the little bakery making the sandwiches was getting completely stressed about her fresh baguettes being sold the moment she had made them - I don't think it had ever been so busy!

We made it to Luxembourg with just under an hour before kick off for the Italy v Australia game, giving us time to admire the sights and stroll around the squares (one of which had a brasserie called "2 Lions" - one too short for us!) before finding a cool bistro with great home made food and a plasma screen. We both had gorgeous omelettes and James some rather fine French cider. It was an Aussie friend's birthday so I was rooting for the best present of all for him, while James had gone to the dark side and was supporting the Italians. The way in which the Italians won the game at the death had the Italian member of kitchen staff who had been allowed to come out to see the game stating that he was ashamed to win like that. I was gutted for the Australians and also fearful of the same happening to England if we don't raise our game and start scoring a few goals. As we left the bistro the streets were full of Italians driving around beeping their horns and waving their flags out of the window in celebration. I was tempted to mime the diving action at them, but James reminded me that if England won like that I wouldn't be moaning so I stopped myself!

After one more stopover on the Belgian border - and the dullest game of the round of 16 on TV - we headed home. Next stop Gelsenkirchen on Friday for the game on Saturday. We have a hotel in Munich for the semi and Stuttgart for the 3rd place play off (which can both be cancelled!) and friends in Berlin, so will be packing for a 11 day stay - will we be returning after 3 days or 11? As per the rules of the tournament (started at Euro 2004), we paint our faces from the quarter final onwards, so James is working on designs to maximise his bald head as I type this! I'm fluctuating between complete dread about Big Phil getting his hatrick of wins over us and us going out at the quarter finals (again!) and optimism about England finally showing what they are made of. All I know is it will be one exciting time ... and if we stay longer than 3 days I'll blog from an internet cafe to keep you posted. Come on England!

STUTTGART FOR TWO PEOPLE
Match tickets: £80
Travel: £245
Accommodation: £364
Spending Money: £232
Stuttgart Total: £921
Tournament Total to date: £2961
Watching England get through to the quarter finals: priceless!

PHOTOS AT: http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/3497290

Carnival in Cologne

Monday morning and on the road again. The route is alarmingly familiar despite only having driven it once before. En route we get a text message to say that the 5-a-side tournament organised by fans has been cancelled due to adverse weather conditions. We couldn't understand this when we were driving in scorching sunshine but soon enough the heavens opened and thunderstorms and driving rain ushered us into Cologne.

We found our hotel more by luck than judgment and proceeded to try to talk to the owners who had only limited comedy English while I have only rudimentary German but we got there in the end. We headed straight into town and wandered through the streets by the fan park on the river - it was a sea of colour with English and Swedish fans drinking together and filling the streets meaning you had to be adept at crowd navigation to get through the town.

We wandered up to the magnificent cathedral, enjoying the carnival atmosphere as we walked. With both teams having qualified the fans were in celebratory mood and the splash of colour and noise around the foot of the dark, imposing cathedral made for a dramatic contrast and fabulous spectacle.

We met up with a BBC Website journalist who was doing a piece on female fans - I'd helped them out by being a member of their "expert" panel to answer reader's questions (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/5041916.stm if you are interested in yet more of my ramblings, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/5123380.stm for the article on female fans) - and then headed further into town to find something to eat. Our stroll through town after dinner was punctuated with conversations with other fans, the main talking point being the tout prices of 2,000 euros for 2 tickets to the Sweden game. Madness! We also spotted a replica original Jules Rimet trophy in the window of a jewellers - a snip at 13,500 euros - or a few of our tickets!

As if evidence was needed of the changing fortunes in football, Tunisia were beating Spain as we walked back to the tube, but were losing 2-1 by the time we got back! A monster night's sleep later and we were back in town for a lazy lunch outside. All plans for sightseeing evaporated after a bottle of wine, more banter with fans and the lure of watching Germany v Ecuador with the locals. Delayed digital signals at all the restaurants down the street meant a ripple effect of cheers and groans from the fans kept us entertained.

English fans at the next table helped with mine and James' competition to see whether Villa or Saints had the most past or present players at the tournament (admittedly mainly past!) James had been winning 7-6 but I took a 9-8 lead with their help. Talk then switched to score predictions for the game. I was convinced England would keep clean sheets throughout the tournament (excluding penalties of course) so I plumped for us nicking it one nil yet again while James went for 2-1.

A miscalculation of the time it would take to get back to the hotel and change and then to the ground meant it was an anxious late tube ride to the ground. The carriage was full of celebrating German fans drinking from champagne bottles and wishing us well for the game. As we crossed the river the two huge fan parks on each bank loomed into view and provided an amazing sea of colour and noise as they were full to the brim of English and Swedish fans. We were still trying to get through the turnstiles as the anthems started and everyone stopped to sing the anthem on their way into the ground.

A scramble to our seats and we just caught sight of Michael Owen as he collapsed to the ground with his horrific injury. We were right behind the goal England were attacking and the stands were very close to the pitch - so much so it felt like we could be playing at times! The atmosphere was electric with both sets of fans in party mood and England's bright start fuelling the anticipation from the English fans. And so to the game ...

We looked to have a much better balance in the side and, as a result, our play was more fluid and we were more of an attacking force than in the earlier games, even without Michael Owen. More unlikely praise for Hargreaves who played really well in the holding role and gave Lampard the freedom to get forward, further cementing the view that Gerrard & Lampard together in the middle is not the right way to get the best out of them. As ever though, we weren't taking our chances but the style of play meant that the belief that we would score didn't waver as it had done during previous games when we had not been playing so well. Joe Cole's magnificent goal had us all foxed. As it left his boot the crowd were groaning at the mis-hit and as it hit the net there was a moment's stunned silence before the cheer went up! At half time my score prediction was looking good and we were pleased with the England performance.

However, to use an old cliche, it was a game of two halves and the Swedes came out stronger in the second half. It always surprises me that even when teams play well they seem to make no allowance for the fact that the opposition will change things and/or come out stronger in the second half and, yet again, we seemed startled by the improved Swedish performance. As for the substitutions, Gerrard gave us attacking options but Campbell didn't look as solid as Ferdinand. Allback's goal brought condemnation to me - he's an ex-Villa player - and it looked like an inevitable draw until Gerrard's fine header gave us hope but then our inability to defend a lead came back to haunt us at the death and yet again we couldn't buy a win against Sweden. I was grateful the game wasn't "important" in terms of the result.

As is often the case, changes being forced on a squad can often bring out better results. Witness Trevor Sinclair playing the game of his life against Argentina in 2002 as a result of an early injury to Hargreaves. Sven picks the best 11 players rather than the best team. A lot of people have said Gerrard plays poorly for England and I have pointed out that a contender for world player of the year who single handedly drags his side to Champions League and FA Cup victories doesn't become a bad player when he pulls on an England shirt, it is more to do with how and where he is played. Holding midfield is not the best use of Lampard or Gerrard. When Gerrard played just off Owen in the friendly against Hungary it was possibly his best performance in an England shirt since the 5-1 in Munich as he was given the freedom to rove and create attacking options for the side.

With Owen out and Sven seemingly unwilling to play Walcott that leaves Rooney who is yet to prove himself match fit over 90 minutes and Crouch who needs someone to play up with him or just behind him to make best use of his skills. However, it does mean that he might be forced into playing Carrick or Hargreaves in the holding role, freeing up Lampard into his usual midfield role and Gerrard to play a freer role behind Crouch or Rooney. Who knows, being down to 1 fit, 1 unfit and 1 untried striker might turn out to be the making of us!

With Wednesday morning spent in an internet cafe cancelling one set of plans and confirming another, we are now on to Stuttgart for the game against Ecuador in what is forecast to be 33 degree heat with thundery showers - should be cracking! And hopefully Gelsenkirchen, then Munich, then Berlin!

PS Thanks to all of those who pointed out that the final will be my 106th rather than 107th match - rudimentary counting rendered useless by football fever!

COLOGNE FOR TWO PEOPLE
Match tickets: £62
Travel: £170
Accommodation: £181
Spending Money: £157
Cologne Total: £570
Tournament Total to date: £2040
Watching England top their group to get a tie against Ecuador: priceless!

PHOTOS AT: http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/3497213

101 Not Out in Nuremberg (just!)

Our 22 hour round trip to Germany started at 4.30am Thursday morning (yawn!). Our sleepy heads still reeling from the intimidatingly good performances from Argentina and Spain, disappointing performances by Brazil and France and the Ecuadorians being the surprise package of the tournament so far.

Bleary eyed, we checked in at Gatwick, bought ourselves the papers and devoured the reports about Rooney possibly playing a role in tonight's game. It was the talk of the fans waiting to board with a mixture of desperation to see him play and bring some attacking verve to the side and cautious requests to rest him until he was really needed in the later stages of the tournament.

By 10am local time over 400 fans were unloaded from the first of 5 planes into the glorious sunshine of Nuremberg and onto a coach for our transfer to the stadium. Our first thoughts about Nuremberg were clouded by the eccentric folk wandering the streets - one man with ski poles!! - and a kamikaze coach driver who ended up making one rather knuckle clenching emergency stop. Still, we made it to the coach park in time (and still alive!) and trooped off to the train station and into the town to explore.

We decided to head into the old town and steer away from the main station. As we came out of the underground we saw a group of Ecuador fans, clad in yellow, partying like they had won the World Cup itself with their first result and more than willing to pose for some colourful photos before they went to watch their game with Costa Rica. They were convinced they would be playing us in the next round after Germany had beaten Poland.

As we walked towards the old town square we were greeted by a huge snake of red and black clad Trinidad & Tobago supporters, complete with band, whistles, fancy dress and some nifty Caribbean dance moves. They were parading throughout the city and entertaining everyone with their songs and dancing. It was a mesmerising and infectious sight. Many photographs later we managed to find our way to a restaurant slightly off the beaten track for a relatively peaceful lunch.

Strolling around the town again after we had eaten and we caught up with the Trinidad & Tobago party people once again, this time having roped in the English fans to sing and dance with them. Fact - we can't dance as well as them and our songs are frankly boorish and boring compared to the wonderful songs they had. But then I guess that's not news!

As we headed down towards the main train station we realised we were right to have avoided it. In the main, the English had taken over the surrounding area and it was all very good natured with the Trinidad & Tobagan's mixing with the English as their own parade met up with them. However, there was a group of idiot Englishmen singing "10 German Bombers" and wearing t-shirts with it printed on near the entrance to the train station. It got me really riled - it's a rubbish and factually incorrect song, its offensive to both English and German servicemen and it is downright rude to sing it in a country which is being such a wonderful host to us (rant over!) Taking advantage of the fact that I'm a woman (and much against James' advice) I challenged every one I walked past who was singing the song. I couldn't stand by and say nothing.

Still seething (and ranting!) we made it to the train station and had a chat with the UK police who were present with their German counterparts and were equally as frustrated with the small minded idiots we had encountered. Still, I mustn't let that small minority detract from the wonderful party and carnival atmosphere that both sets of fans had created throughout the town and the fact that, once again, English fans were behaving themselves and moving one step closer to proving that the hooligan stereotype is outdated.

As the English fans poured onto the train some funnier songs started up: "5-1 in your own backyard, 5-1 even Heskey scored" had the Germans laughing in the aisles and the good natured banter continued right up until we reached the stadium.

The weather was still glorious and we strolled down to the initial security cordons. They seemed unusually interested in our flag (3 J's on Tour with a Saints and Villa crest on it) and it looked like they were trying to work out who the club crests referred to (I'll leave you to insert your own joke here!) Having made it into the ground it was the usual bun fight to get a place to hang the flag which eventually ended in success 5 blocks away from our seats! With still a couple of hours before kick off it allowed plenty of time to enjoy the atmosphere. Because the security and ticket cordons are a little further out from the ground, you are then free to wander the perimeter where there is food, drink, official merchandise, places to sit and big screens to watch the other games on. An excellent idea which means getting to the ground early is far more of a pleasure than a chore.

We watched the Ecuadorians beat Costa Rica making the prediction of the fans we met earlier for a second round match up with England more likely and felt the tension start to build as the ground filled up. Some Blackpool fans who we were sat behind in Frankfurt - and who we first met in South Africa on some goodwill visits 3 years ago - were next to us and soon we started talking score predictions. We all felt we would keep a clean sheet. James had gone for 3-0, me 2-0 whilst others just didn't care, so long as we won and got through to the next round. More familiar faces joined our block in the ground - a bonus of following England regularly is spotting other regular friendly faces at matches. We were in the lower tier which meant it was quite enclosed towards the back due to the fact that the sharply raked tier above effectively created a roof, and the running track around the pitch sometimes skewed your perspective of the action on the pitch.

By the time the players came out to warm up the anticipation was high. With a later kick off the expectation was that the team would finally come and lay down a marker after their poor second half performance against Paraguay. David James & Dwight Yorke - both ex Villa players - took time to shake hands and chat before the players returned to the dressing rooms and the English fans started singing with gusto. Once more, the German version of 3 Lions was played over the tannoy which got the fans fired up. And so to the game...

As ever, a game of two halves. We started brightly with some good passing moves, as we did against Paraguay, but constantly suffered from a poor final ball and seeming lack of killer instinct. I'd read the newspaper columnists views about how English fans expect the pace of the Premiership but that international football is different and tried to acknowledge the patient, possession led build up. But by 25 minutes into the first half the anxiety amongst the fans was palpable. How come we hadn't scored yet? Why can't we run at players and create chances? It might be international football, but Spain and Argentina had both played high tempo, attacking games - on this performance we weren't going to frighten anyone.

England were attacking the goal in front of us and a Crouch shot looked so certain to be going in as he struck it that the fans were mid leap for the celebratory cheer by the time we realised he had missed it. I started to remind people that this was the team that had held Sweden to a draw with only 10 men - a team we hadn't beaten in 38 years - and was told to stop sounding like Sven by getting my excuses in early. Another comment about the "Man Utd" factor, i.e. so many teams being up for playing England that they raise their game, was greeted with the comment that we were playing the equivalent of a pub side and still couldn't score a goal.

As half time approached, the early start kicked in and I realised I needed the adrenalin rush of a goal and/or a good performance for my own sake as well as the teams! At half time the mood was decidedly anxious. Not just because of the lack of goal (all tournament!) but also because the team still hadn't delivered a performance that looked like we would win the game, let alone the World Cup. James pointed out that if they came out in the second half with a blinding performance that would be what was remembered, but even that optimistic comment was met with glum and anxious faces.

England came out early for the second half. We hoped (but doubted) that Eriksson had given them a rollicking at half time. But as the second half started out much like the first there was an eerie silence in the stands, with plenty of nail biting and frustration at the performance being given. "I just don't get it", said one fan "it's clear that the players have the ability and they want it, so why are they playing like this?"

Then came the substitutions. The roar for Rooney was deafening - I wish I could have been a fly on Alex Ferguson's wall at that moment! - and the pushing on of a second attacking player in the form of Lennon was greeted with cheers but amazement at Sven's bold tactics - usually an oxymoron! Instantly we looked so much better, mainly because we had pace and were running at players creating chances. Lennon made it clear just how much pace Beckham has lost - although he is still one of the best crossers of the ball in the world. Rooney looked hungry and up for it. The fresh legs really did create the impression that we were going to score a goal - something which had not been evident before then!

15 minutes from time and I am anxious but all around me, and at the end of text messages, were saying it would be fine. 10 minutes to go. Then we scored. The ground felt like it erupted. Thunderous cries of "we're not going home" resounded round the stadium. Grown men crying around me, with sheer relief manifesting itself in many different ways. My experience of watching England fail to hold on to leads - the Paraguay game having been an exception! - sill had me nervous. Then the second went in and the place went wild. It was like a massive party in the stands. Fans jumping, singing, dancing and still crying! No-one wanted to leave the ground. The tannoy played 3 Lions again, the English fans belt out "football's coming home" and the euphoria is electric.

In the midst of the mayhem we lost our flag, got soaked in drinks and I realised my score prediction had come true! But nothing else mattered in those moments after the game except the result. Even the reflection on the bad performance earlier in the game on the walk through the park back to coach wasn't enough to dampen the enthusiasm from the exhausted hordes. All the talk was of the forthcoming Sweden game and how a draw or a loss for them would see us able to confirm our place as Group Winners and get on with booking our travel to Stuttgart. I reflected on the Italian side of 1982 - awful for the group stages then went on to win it against Brazil with a wonderful display. Did the performance really matter when we had the result? Although the thought of us creeping to the final by nicking results one nil or at the death, like the old Italian style, did have me wondering if my heart and nerves would be able to cope with that!

Fans converged on the big screens in the lounges at Nuremberg airport. We were sat there with a glass of something celebratory revelling in the fact that Sweden were drawing. Then, at the death, they get a winner. It doesn't change the fact that we are through to the next round, but it could mean our game with them on Tuesday in Cologne may see us finishing second and playing the Germans with a much trickier route in the later stages. Although Ecuador might surprise the Germans - I doubt it - so a win and a next round game against the Ecuadorians would be preferable. I'm not thinking about the potential quarter final against Argentina and semi-final against Brazil that would result in, unless Spain have beaten Brazil by then of course. Well, not much .... bring on Cologne!

And finally, the ongoing Mastercard tribute continues:

NUREMBERG FOR 2 PEOPLE
Match tickets: £62
Package trip to the game: £578
Airport parking: £20
Spending money: £24
Nuremberg Total: £684
Tournament Total to Date: £1,470
Watching England Scrape 3 points against Trinidad & Tobago to go through to the next round: priceless!

PHOTOS AT: http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/3497167

Fun in Frankfurt - 100 up!

So, my 100th England game, James' first trip to a World Cup tournament - excitement was high as we boarded Eurotunnel on Friday morning. The drive across Europe on a beautiful summer's day was filled with fellow England fans making the journey. Flags attached to cars, displayed in the rear windscreen - like ours - or flying proudly from the roofs of the various modes of transport. Bikes, motorhomes, people carriers and even winnebagos in various states of (dis)repair all heading to Frankfurt. Horns beeping and fans waving to each other on the road.

Border controls were in place as we reached Germany and in a moment of positive discrimination, my presence in the car meant we were waved straight through, compared with the cars full of all male parties who were pulled over and checked.

We were staying just outside Frankfurt in the beautiful spa town of Bad Homburg. We announced our arrival in slightly embarrassing fashion, walking through the courtyard full of Germans watching the opening game, with a barbecue in full flow and headed towards the open door. Just as we approached it there was a cry from an elderly gentleman behind us who looked like he had been running after us. Good job too, as he was the hotel owner who managed to catch us just before we walked into a local's kitchen. Much hilarity from the surrounding people and red faces from us as we followed the hotel owner round to the correct entrance to the hotel.
After watching Germany's victory over Costa Rica we headed into the town to a recommended tapas bar where we could also watch the Poland v Ecuador game. This was a test of my linguistic abilities with Spanish and Italian speaking waiting staff and a German menu. My rudimentary grasp of all three of these languages could scrape by on its own but switching between all three almost blew my brain up - but we successfully ordered some very tasty food - and all of it vegetarian!

It wasn't long before the St George's Crosses painted on my toenails and fingernails created the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the neighbouring table of German fans, who were on a high after their win. They didn't rate the German's chances of winning on paper but reminded us that was the case in 2002 and they still snuck into the final. We pleaded with them to tell us something good about Owen Hargreaves to explain his selection - the Bayern fan amongst them said the best thing about Owen Hargreaves ... before pausing for effect ... was the fact that he was injured for half of the season! Who says Germans don't have a sense of humour?! Another jug of sangria later and we were down to one German left standing who proceeded to give us a guided tour of the bars of Bad Homburg as James introduced him to Brazilian cocktails - it was a messy night!

Feeling a little worse for wear on Saturday morning we headed into Frankfurt on a train full of fans from different nations. Conversation soon started with 4 orange clad Dutch fans who also didn't believe their team could win it but would be fine so long as they went further than the Germans. The Germans on the other side of us with tickets for the game gained in the public sale were looking for more information on the threat of Peter Crouch. James made sure the Southampton connection was given credit to Crouch's emergence on to the world scene - as he had done for Delgado's man of the match performance for Ecuador the night before. It may sound better if they were still with Saints!

We arrived at the massive main train station at Frankfurt and emerged into scorching sunshine and a never ending sea of English fans in full voice, who all looked like they had been drinking since the bars opened. We had walked over a mile down the pedestrianised street leading out of the station before we could see any street space, bar or restaurant which was not covered in England fans. We made our way to the river - which is beautiful - to check out where the fan parks were for later games and discovered a marquee populated by Iranians promoting their football team!

A stroll back up towards the station saw us walk past the Paraguayan team hotel with the buses waiting to transport them. All the team buses have been supplied by Hyundai and have their own individual messages on them - England's is: One Nation, One World Cup, 11 Lions. Hmmm, not sure about that one - not least due to its factual inaccuracies, but that's just me being a pedant! The Paraguayan one was so memorable, I've forgotten it!!

Back to the station and the platform full of fans waiting to get to the stadium, watching the German staff getting increasingly tetchy as trains were delayed - they looked like that had never happened before and they didn't like it much. The walk to the stadium was through a forest, with the initial security cordons about a mile in. A shortage of female security staff meant that women were waiting longer to get through the cordons, although I would have been quite happy to be frisked by some of the male stewards! A few hundred yards later and the stadium emerged in front of us with St George's Crosses visibly attached to the top of the stand in ahead of us.

Our seats were in the gods behind one of the goals, so a long hike up the stairs later and we were in the ground. It was an impressive stadium, with its central video cube and the only ground where I've ever seen an abundance of topiary next to the corporate boxes! With less than an hour to kick off, the stadium was filling up with thousands of England fans and their flags and the nerves were starting to kick in. The roar for the players as they came out to warm up shook the stadium and there was a palpable sense of expectation as well as hope which all added to the tension.

England fans just kept pouring into the stadium, including a handful with an enormous flag right in the centre of the Paraguay section! It began to feel like a home game and was reminiscent of Portugal where spotting away fans or neutrals was a tough task. Bearing in mind the FA allocation of only 5,000 was split between members of englandfans and the "football family", it must have been a good day for touts who were selling tickets at 10 times their face value, around £300 each. Estimates after the game gave the numbers of English fans inside the ground at 35,000 - so even allowing for say 5,000 who got lucky in the FIFA ballot and the odd neutral who wore an English shirt, I reckon that's over £7.5m to the touts on Saturday.

The teams were announced to cheers of support, the fans in good voice, and roared onto the pitch for the national anthems. Ours sung with gusto as usual - with only a very small smattering of "no surrenders" - and, pleasingly, no booing of the Paraguayan anthem but plenty of bad dancing to the rathejauntyty tune! And so to the game itself ... well, it was pretty much like the 99 which preceded it for me. Good in parts, full of hope and possibilities, tense in the main and petering out to an unsatisfactory performance with the right result. Who says we aren't consistent?

So, what was the pitchside view? We started brightly, passed the ball fluently and created lots of chances. The early goal was from a set piece, which is becoming an increasingly reliable route to scoring for this England team. Thanks to the video cube we could see pretty quickly that we had been the lucky beneficiaries of an own goal. But as the half wore on the frustration from the fans at oufailureur to capitalise on our chances seemed to be reflected by the players. The Paraguayans were playing a strong, physical game and many of our creative players were getting kicked around the park.

We hoped for better at the start of the second half, but Owen's substitution crippled our formation. If the idea was for Joe Cole to play off Crouch so Downing could take the left side of midfield, it didn't work. Crouch was isolated too often with the gap between midfield and up front not being filled by Cole who sat back with the rest of the midfield. Crouch looked up for the game from the off and had been most effective with the ball at his feet - except when he was an emergency extra tall defender - yet the ball kept being played to his head for the knock down but no-one was far enough up to receive it. As the Paraguayans moved to 3 up front in search of our equaliser we were pushed further and further back and looked bereft of attacking ideas and options.

And as for the ref ... chants of "how much did the ref cost?" abounded as decision after decision seemed to defy belief. My description of him which I texted to a couple of people during the game is far too unpleasant to feature in this blog. It will be interesting to watch the game again and see just how many he got wrong as it is possible that the frustration and tension from the fans was vented at the referee as a scapegoat, but there were certainly a good half a dozen wrong decisions.

The feeling that Sven had told the players to defend the lead was compounded by the arrival of Owen Hargreaves. Although - and I never thought I would ever see myself saying this - he did shore things up a bit in midfield and even played a couple of forward passes! Still, we did manage to do something we don't usually manage - and that's hang on to a lead. Though as a tactic going forward I think it is more than suspect! It was an absolutely roasting afternoon and I'm grateful that we won't play in that heat for either of the remaining group games as the players (and fans!) looked exhausted.

Beckham's wave to his wife and kids - wearing replica England shirts with Beckham on the back - at the end of the game created an autograph hunting horde in that area of the stadium and many fans, relieved but deflated stayed in or around the stadium to enjoy the sunshine. Those of us in the ground were treated to a joyous sight. One Mr W Rooney, out on the pitch with the other unused squad players for half an hour or so. David James would punt the ball into the air, he would trap it cleanly and then proceed to volley it past the keeper with either feet in a consistently sublime display of skill. After the dearth of attacking options on display from England just previously it was a joy to watch as the fans chanted his name repeatedly. What odds on Rooney starting the Round of 16 game and then going on to win the Golden Boot?!

The later games continued to entertain. The Sweden v Trinidad & Tobago draw saw dancing on the streets from all the Trinidad fans and while that is a useful result for England, we underestimate them at our peril. Argentina looked strong in every department from the off - while we (luckily) have the luxury of playing ourselves into the tournament, the Argentinians are in a difficult group and needed to come out fighting, which is exactly what they did. They are the best team I've seen in the tournament so far, though I suspect the proposed "4 up front" formation being predicted for the Brazilian's opening game may change that. The Ivory Coast also looked strong and deserved the goal - they will challenge the other teams in that group.

So on Sunday it was time to leave. Again the roads were full of England decorated vehicles on their way back and the Eurotunnel terminal full of fans eagerly buying up all available English newspapers or in the bar catching the end of the Holland game - Robben looked on fire - and the start of the Mexico v Iran game with the Mexicans looking lively. Back to the hotel in Ashford to watch Portugal get a result and the first weekend of the World Cup drew to a close.

So how was my 100th game? Exciting, nerve wracking and exhilarating to be part of the World Cup from the off. I'm looking forward to my 107th and still hoping it will be in Germany and not one of the qualifying games for Euro 2008.

And finally: I did an interview for the Durban Times when we were in South Africa for the friendly game in 2003. They asked me how much I'd spent following England. I'd done around 80+ games at that point and the result of my rough guesstimate was a staggering £25k. Visions of my shiny Lotus Elise and lack of credit card flashed before my eyes before I realised that this is the price you pay to follow the national team and I am fortunate enough to be able to afford it - with the help of the rather accommodating credit card companies. So, in a tribute to one of the bigger credit cards, I thought I'd include a small fiscal feature at the end of each posting and see just how much this tournament costs:

FRANKFURT FOR TWO PEOPLE
Match tickets: £62
Travel: £290
Accommodation: £227
Spending money: £207
Tournament total to date: £786
Watching England scrape 3 points to top their World Cup group: priceless

PHOTOS AT: http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/3497066