Summer in Berlin (World Cup 2006) By Sarah Golisti, May 2010

In 2005 – 2006 I spent an Erasmus year ‘studying’ in Berlin, Germany. Despite knowing nothing at all about football I was fortunate enough to be employed as a translator and ticket co-ordinator for FIFA.

I was based at the Olympia Stadion in Berlin. Mostly, my job was translating if there were problems with any tickets. Our busiest time was 1 – 2 hours before the match, and when we weren’t busy FIFA let us enjoy the day for ourselves. Even better, by the time the match kicked off almost all the fans were already in their seats, and after a token 10 – 15 minutes our passes allowed us in to the stadium.

The first match in Berlin was Brazil vs Croatia. As a football beginner, I was entirely without expectation, but the Brazilian fans' geniality, passion and sheer joy blew me away. They became, and remained, in first place in my ‘best fans’ leaderboard. You couldn’t walk round the stadium without being twirled around in countless Sambas. It was fantastic, the entire grounds were swathed in green and gold, the drums were rhythmically beating and the chant “Hexa” reverberated continuously around.

The match itself was apparently quite uneventful. Some Brazilian bloke called Kaka (amusingly enough the German for dog poo) scored a goal just before half time. The match was deemed dull, but I was captivated by Brazil’s football. It looked so languid and relaxed. There were large swathes of the match in which the ball was just passed from player to player without the opposition getting a look in.

Two days later the 2nd match was Sweden v Paraguay This wasn’t a match that particularly inspired me. I had a flat full of visitors from home and was more looking forward to leaving at kick off and playing with them than watching two random football teams. The World cup atmosphere has a way of getting into you. Before I realised it had taken over and swept me into the stadium, watching and cheering along with the best of them.

Five days after that, on 20th June came a biggy. Germany were playing at Olympia Stadion. I was excited about this. After all, my host nation were playing. Although bizarrely the German public seemed largley apathetic. Indeed the only person who seemed remotely excited was a girl I befriended, Steffi. Like me, Steffi had very little interest in football before the tournament and took the job for the translating experience. If truth be told, her excitement was mainly centred around seeing the German Beckham - Michael Ballack.They had a convincing 3-0 victory over Ecuador. Whilst the atmosphere was tangibly more subdued, at least Steffi was happy.

The next match in Berlin was Ukraine v Tunisia. My overwhelming memory of this match was a hot day and a horrible hangover. I left early. In between that match and the next a rather unfortunate event happened. England played Portugal. By this time I had become a fully fledged England fan. I even had the Tshirt, albeit a €10 fake. Germany was fantastically organised – large ‘Fan Zones’ were cordoned off with massive screens erected, and streets were lined with beer stalls. Everyone was frustrated when that slimy Ronaldo knocked us out. But I was especially annoyed. Had England won, their next match would have been in Berlin. Instead England’s loss meant it was Germany playing Argentina in the next game.

Getting through to the Quarter finals helped the Germans get behind their team. It was as if they had got so far it was suddenly alright to start supporting them. In the latter stages, our jobs became harder. When the tickets were first issued, there was of course, no way of predicting who would reach these stages.

The Final

Because tickets had to be sorted out for the later stages at very short notice, many (legitimate and fraudulent) were sold on the black market. We were inundated with forgeries. Out of sympathy for my German colleagues I volunteered, along with Steffi,to remain in the cabin and clear the backlog of the forgeries. We only got to see the second half; but what a second half it was! Immediately after half time Argentina scored, and led until a Klose goal in the 80th minute. The entire stadium erupted! It remained 1-1, and came down to penalties. Steffi and I were fortunate enough to be sat behind the goal Germany were striking into. The stadium was silent and you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. The former non-football fan Steffi had to turn away as the penalties were taken. When Cambiasso’s low effort was kept out the German’s rioteously celebrated their fourth world cup shoot out success in as many attempts.

The next match held in Berlin was, of course, the final. France v Italy. In the days leading up to the finals you could sense the mounting tension. The streets were filling as fans from all over the world rushed to be in Berlin for the big day.My small 3 bedroom flat that I shared with 2 others, was all of a sudden home to 8 waifs and strays who descended on us for the final.

I’ve heard it said before that the atmosphere in World Cup finals is a strange one. Tickets are sold out months in advance mainly to multinationals. So very few ‘genuine’ fans are there; even less lucky enough to see their team make it to the final. This is certainly true. The great and the good of all nationalities came whizzing past in limos. At the final, the majority of the cases were frauds, and my colleagues and I all experienced some real sob-stories.

The story that sticks with me the most centers around an old Italian American couple. They had left Italy for America some 50 years ago, shortly after they were married. They settled in New Jersey and had a large family there. Despite being reasonably successful restaurant owners they never managed to afford more than two trips back to Europe in the entire of those 50 years. By a twist of fate, the final fell on their wedding anniversary. This football-mad couple thereby promised to themselves that if Italy reached the final they would treat themselves to a trip to Europe and, to hell with it, tickets to the final. Having spent thousands of their savings on seemingly genuine tickets, at the gates they discovered they had been scammed. There were loads of stories like this, but the genuine shock and disappointment in this really sweet lovely old couple is very poignant and I sincerely wished there was something I could do for them.

However, it was soon time to go watch the match. Steffi and I arrived at our seats just as Zidane scored a penalty in the 7th minute. Within 15 minutes Italy’s Materazzi had equalised. The match then continued at an absorbing pace, but with neither side able to take the lead. In extra time probably the biggest upset of the match occurred. The French legend and captain, Zidane, famously head butted Materazzi, ending his outstanding career in shameful circumstances. Now, I don’t know what happened on the pitch, but from my seat, almost directly opposite the incident, it seemed to be entirely unprovoked. I appreciate the fraught circumstances, but one second they were walking along, and then, blink and you missed it. Materazzi floored! His team mates looked shell shocked, but they held on to force penalties for only the second time in a world cup final. Pirlio, Materazzi, De Rossi, Del Piero and Grosso made no mistakes as Italy became the most successful European country in World Cup history.

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