Barcelona - Iniesta...Goooooooaaaaalllllll!!!!!!!!!

Barcelona (Spain)

Campeones!

8th - 12th July

Spain have had their fair share of opportunities but Holland  definitely had the most clear cut chance in the game with Robben breaking through one one one with Casillas and attempting to place the ball just on his right. Casillas takes an even money bet by diving one way and stretching out his legs, the ball clips his boots and goes sailing out over the goal line. If ever there was a turning point in a game then from what I know, that would have been it. The Temple Stone bar breathes a sigh of relief, their heroes live to fight in a debutant's title fight.

[Robben miss - 'THE' Dutch chance] 

As the game ticks on past the standard 90 mins and heads into extra time the eyes of Spaniards and ring-ins alike are glued to all available TV's. The Spanish have had the greater proportion of the possession, have had the fairer share of the play and have not taken to chopping down their opponents the way the Dutch have. Conversely the Dutch appear to be just hanging on in a game which they feel that they have a divine right to win after being denied in two previous attempts,(West Germany '74) and (Argentina '78). Ticking over the 100 min mark and with the referee being yellow card trigger happy in a game that I think was officiated in a very average manner, Dutch left back Jonhnny Heitinger collects his second yellow of the match and gets marched. He'll more than likely get to watch the rest of the match later in retirement when he shows his grand children that he did actually play in a World Cup final  and also shows them that he was one of a small band of brothers that also got sent off.
[Heitinga foul - second yellow]

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At the Temple Stone bar JJ and I are intently staring at the screen. My dad is chatting tactics with me and saying that whilst he thinks the Spanish deserve the win the Dutch will more than likely take it out if match goes to penalties. My mum is watching the game through Heinekin filled eyes, chatting with our Israeli and Swedish friends who are also barracking for Spain as much as we are. The seconds role on, each Spanish chance getting met with screams, hands on heads and large cries of 'Ooooh'.

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Fernando Torres, having been a little out of form in coming back from injury gets the ball on the left hand wing in the 117th minute. He places a ball into Cesc Fabregas, another player that had been out of favour with the coach but has made an appearance in this final, his duty now to become either a goal scorer or provider. Accepting the ball from Torres on the edge of the box he looks left and sees Iniesta open. A diagonal pass to Iniesta just inside the box puts the crowd in Temple Stone onto their feet again. Iniesta beats his man with a run that may have had a touch of offside about it (but on review I've founded it to be perfectly timed), the crowd in the bar start screaming for a shot and Iniesta swings his right foot at the ball. It flies diagonally across the penalty box beating the Dutch keeper and hitting the back of the net on the right side.

[The WINNER] 

[Stadium view] 

All of Spain screams in unison!!!

Temple Stone Bar - Barri Gotic - Barcelona

JJ in support of the Spanish - Temple Stone Bar - Barri Gotic - Barcelona

After 117 minutes of tension and stress the relief and joy expressed at that moment is something to behold. Being a bandwagon Spanish supporter for this World Cup I'm up with them, screaming my lungs out and enjoying the moment in the type of way that only a native could truly understand. I mean I get it though, back in 2005 when I was at the game where Aloisi hit the back of the net in that fateful penalty shoot out the emotion that was released in that single instant was 32 years of dreams, broken hearts and hope. This for Spain was 80 years of under achievement, of having the game, having the players, and just not delivering when it mattered. It was all that and it was a hell of a lot more for the Spanish, and to experience that, to be part of it when they also became a World Cup winner for the first time, one of only 7 others, was an experience that I had hoped for and one now that I'll now never forget.

High fives, 'Espana chants', 'Campeones chants', waving of scarves, flags, shirts, and this was only the bar. My parents, JJ and myself hung around to watch Spain lift the trophy and then had to get out amongst the Barcelona home town crowd in order to experience one of the best nights of their lives.

 

Walking up Las Ramblas, fighting our way up slowly to Plaza Catalunya, there was red and yellow everywhere. At one intersection their were people on lamp posts, bus stops, magazine stores, whatever the hell they could do in order to get elevated and wave their flag. Standing on the corner of Las Ramblas and another street all you could hear were vuvuzuelas and the cry of 'Campeones'. I managed to stand on a bin and lent up against a traffic post in order to swing around my newly purchased Espana scarf. Whilst I was 'giving it some' in honour and in aid of the Spanish victory the crowd spread out before more  and in front of me. Barcelona was already a 'good vibe' city but now it had reached 'beserker city limits'.

JJ and I walked up to Plaza Catalunya via Las Ramblas, people weaving in and out of each other, kind of in half amazement and shock. Finally getting up to the Plaza and taking a look around, it was literally people, flags and scarves for as far as you could see.The area around the Plaza which at anytime of day and night was normally filled with all sorts of traffic was now a swarm of Spaniards celebrating an epic moment in their sporting history. To witness the people, their good spirit and vibes was something that I'll always remember, it was an absolutely fantastic experience.

Victory celebrations - Plaza Catalunya - Barcelona

Fountain Climbers - Plaza Catalunya - Barcelona

Victory celebrations - Plaza Catalunya - Barcelona

JJ with Prancing Pedro - Plaza Catalunya - Barcelona



Prancing Pedro doing his thang - Plaza Catalunya

The days leading up to July 11th...

In the few days prior to the World Cup final JJ had made her way via a flight that had taken her from Sydney to Shangai, Paris and then finally to Barcelona on somewhat of an epic 37hr journey. Waiting at Barcelona airport for JJ to arrive I witness a somewhat tired and mentally challenged girl make her first tentative steps into a vibrant city.

That evening the plan was to keep JJ up and about for as long as possible so we could get her into the swing of the timezone. This planned involved a wonderful evening view of the city of Barcelona and a cocktail or several to accompany the brutal jet lag hangover. I think for the most part our plan worked a treat, keeping JJ swinging until about midnight at which point her batteries gave the big FU signal and termination of all life seemed imminent. Round one, JJ vs. Barcelona nightlife went to Barcelona, but that was OK, this wasn't going to be a sprint my friends.

The next day JJ and I made our way down to the beach at Barcelonetta, (San Sebastian), had ourselves a few drinks and  checked out the beach talent, which in some areas made for some amusing viewing, especially the guys that were 'on display' trying to get their 'massive on' to a viewing audience that comprised mainly of old times, grandma's and youngish mothers who may have been wondering where their better days were. Either way, it wasn't the style of audience that they were particularly seeking.

A little further down the beach was the Port Olympico, full of bars and restaurants which were kind of cool but unfortunately didn't have the exact vibe that it could have had without the car park fronting one side of the bar front. Never the less, cocktails in the Mediterranean sun was too good an offer to pass up and settled the afternoon account for us perfectly.

Waking up in Barcelona...

...has been an experience that we've become accustomed to, but seeing it through the eyes of a newbie reminded me of how I viewed the place just a couple of weeks ago. Having a coffee, watching the wondering crowds meander in the little corner of the world we inhabited was just the tonic for starting up the engines. On this day JJ and I kicked off proceedings by making our way up to Montjuic, a hill/mountain on the south side of the city that has absolutely stunning views. We then proceeded to jump the cable car across the Port and then wondered back through the Gothic area for a few hours, quite an easy thing to do when you have bar, after bar, after bar that are all brilliant and enticing.

View of Barcelona from Port cable car

Flamenco - Barcelona

.....Which brings us up to World Cup day, and the Spanish date with destiny. Wondering the Gothic quarter and watching all the people prepare themselves for what was possibly going to be a mammoth evening was simply exciting in itself. Watching Spaniards and foreigners alike pick up supporters gear for the 'roja' kind of put us in a position where we felt obligated to join in on the action. Without a lot of prompting JJ and I picked up a Spanish flag and scarf , then set out for some alcoholic amusement before game time.

....and so it was, on the 11th of July at sometime approaching midnight a little Spaniard swung his right foot at a ball and cracked a goal on a Johannesburg field that sent a nation into raptures, Iniesta...goooooaaaallllllll!!!!!

 

Spain: Campeones futball mundial 2010 - Vamos Espana!

Lounging at Port Olympico - Barcelona

Face the sun

Giving it some in honour of the Spanish cause

Las Ramblas - Barcelona

Victory celebrations on Las Ramblas - Barcelona

Victory celebrations on Las Ramblas - Barcelona

Victory celebrations on Las Ramblas - Barcelona

Barcelona - Spain 1 - Germany 0....'Barcelona MENTAL'

Barcelona (Spain)
5th-7th of July

The perennial under achievers, the fiesty little cousins of the power European footballing nations has finally managed to pull a rabbit out of their jugs of sangria and rallied to railroad the well oiled, (...urggh...just had an alarming vision of an oiled German football team in the change rooms), mannschaft. A very controlled display by the Spanish last night and they didn´t provide too many  opporunities for the German side to get onto a roll and break from their lines quickly.

As for our viewing station, well the parents and I set up shop at the Temple Bar in the middle of the Barri Gotic, where else but an Irish bar to watch the Spanish trounce the Germans. Have got to say, have always wanted to be in a country as they make their way through to the finals of the World Cup and I kind of had the feeling months ago when I booked this little escapade that this might have been the result. Sometimes a plan just comes together. It´s kind of amusing to witness the euphoria after a win and then see it carefully translate into expectation and then tension right before the next team game.

For right now, there´s only one more game possible, the World Cup final on July 11th. It´s been 32 years since the last time two teams have met in a final that hadn´t won it previously - that was Argentina v. Holland back in 1978. From a neutral perspective I always love seeing a new country make the final, so for me this more than a treat....as for the experience, well, I have to say Vamos Espana. Here are a few shots from last night!

Checking out the game at the Temple Bar - Barri Gotic - Barcelona

Had to climb a lamp post to get the shot - even a short ass like me has ways!

´Get your World Cup final on!´ - Las Ramblas - Barcelona

Las Ramblas - Barcelona

Aside from catching the World Cup action last night we also managed to do a few typically touristy things the last few days, that´s after we´ve managed to get up and stumble around our apartment for a few hours. Not sure whether it´s the climate, the alcohol or some other combination of factors but usually we´re heading out the door sometime after noon. That´s still kind of valid, right?

The day before the night of the Spanish conquest we walked from our apartment on Carrer Ample to the Port Vell cable car. Swinging something like 75mtrs above the old harbour the cable car links Montjuic mountain to the beach of San Sebastia and the area of Barcelonetta. Without writing too much more today as I´ve got people to do, places to see, have added some shots taken from the cable car and the mountain...catch you all real soon :)

The beaches of Barcelona from the port cable car

The cable car over the port

View back into Barcelona from the cable car

View of the disco dildo (Torre Agbar) from the cable

Dad getting use to ´Barcelona style´ - Montjuic mountain

Barcelona - Babylon

Bitch of a song cost me 40 Euros!

Barcelona (Spain)
03 JUL - 04 JUL

After a few days in Madrid and additionally throwing myself into the mix in Barcelona I'm finding that my Spanish is starting to come on reasonably well. I mean I'm not pulling off any suave pick up lines ....AS YET....but I'm being understood. It's kind of amusing pulling off a line and actually hearing yourself in a language that's not your mother tongue and then waiting for the acknowledgment to register on the face of your intended target. You're facing the litmus test every time you open your mouth, but I guess that's part of the fun. Sometimes you get it wrong and then they respond with a weird look and the word 'como', which is like a polite way of saying, 'Dude, WTF!!?'

On the 3rd of July my parents and I scouted  the area around where we've been based for the last few days, Barri Gotic. The term of Barri Gotic refers to a number of streets around the main cathedral which have many buildings of medieval origin. The 'streets' around the area are really rather large lane ways, surrounded by particularly old buildings, although a majority of them would have been built sometime between the 1800s-1900's. Walking around the area definitely provides  a type of charm which can only be categorised as old style Mediterranean. There are now of course many bars and restaurants in the area which draws tourists and locals alike right throughout the day and late, late into the darkness of the night and early morning. The street that I'm staying on, Carrer Ample, is located basically at the base of a 'triangle' which forms the Barric Gotic, the base being the port, one supporting side being Las Ramblas, the apex Plaza Catalunya and the other side being Calle Atocha.

We walked through the Gothic area for a few hours and I managed to stumble into a plaza that I was trying to locate on my last excursion to Barcelona back in 2008. Unfortunately I forget the name of the plaza (well, until just now, Plaza de Sant Felip Neri), but in the plaza exists a rather sombre reminder of  Spain's dark history during the Civil War years in which  a wall of one of the churches within the square is absolutely riddled with bullet holes. Asking around we found out that the wall was basically used as a backdrop for firing squads, a place where Franco nationalist forces massacred supporters of the Republican movement. A strangely quitet and haunting place for the most part, and strangely, eerily beautiful all in the same breath.

Streets of the Barri Gotic - Barcelona

Plaza de Sant Felip Neri - Barri Gotic - Barcelona

Entry to the Plaza de Sant Felip Neri - Barri Gotic - Barcelona

After a few hours back at the apartment Dad and I dropped down to Bar 32 on the Carrer Ample to watch the Germany v.Argentina quarter final. To our surprise and my mild disappointment Argentina didn't put up much of a fight. They received a fairly cheap goal early on in the first half and then were basically placed in a position where they were chasing the game right from the outset. They did have a decent period of play in the second half and looked quite likely to equalise in the first 20 mins before Germany again breached their defence. Argentina crumbled after that point and went on to lose 4-0, not a particularly flattering scoreline for a team that looked to have the skill and capability of winning the World Cup this year.

Later in the evening I caught up with Ali and her friends, Haley and Georgia, for dinner and what turned out to be several drinks too many. For the past few weeks Ali had been mentioning that her friend Hayley was single, and perhaps, required some hot Serbian cabanossi for a while under the wonderful charms of the 'muy calor' Barcelona sun. I'm not sure what type of 'word' she put in for me but for that evening at least I was as 'charming' and as capable as I've 'sometimes' been known to be and at a certain point after dinner I thought for a moment , just a moment, that the wild long locks of Senor Elisher had done their trick in terms of the ever flowing force of expert flirtation. It appeared, perhaps within the context of my own drunken excesses, that the lovely Hayley could possibly have been a convert, well, that was until the sangria, mai tai's and all other forms of alcohol that I thought were being used to my advantage all of a sudden became 'the great unraveler' of all things nocturnally possible and good. Never the less, we did somehow manage to stumble on a bar that was by chance having a salsa night, and hey now, guess who has some solid Intermediate salsa moves these days! I took both Ali and Georgia for a bit of a spin, and to tell you the truth, it ended up being a lot of fun, a great night all round in the city of Gaudi - so thanks to the girls for being my minders for the night, even if I didn't end up minding one of them for the rest of the night...lol....there's always the return match in Sydney. I'll  be sure to get my protractor out and work on my angles before then!

Oh, what I did forget to add is that the girls and I kicked off with dinner at an Italian restaurant that night, not so much out of design but by way of haphazard fortune. We were actually looking for a place to watch the Spain v.Paraguay quarter final, of course a hugely anticipated event in Barcelona, not simply due to the fact that it was Spain playing but also for the fact that these guys are known to be perennial chokers, really, more so than Michael Hutchence. And for the first 2/3rd of the game it looked as though those magical world cup tendencies were coming back to haunt them. Paraguay received a penalty in about the 62nd minute and by some strange twist of fate did a Ghana on themselves and totally missed their God given opportunity to put themselves a goal up with just under 30 mins remaining. Unbelievably 1-2 mins later Spain also received a penalty and whist Piquet nailed the first shot, a few of the Spanish players had breached the line when the penalty was taken, meaning a retake. Taking the penalty once again was fatal and on this occasion Piquet crumbled, it was still a neutral 0-0 game with 25 mins left to play in regulation time. The crowd in the restaurant fell  deathly silent  at that point and it kind of reminded me of the eerie silence that graced ANZ stadium during the Australia v.Uruguay qualifier back in 2005. It was almost as if the collective conscience of the Spanish people were thinking, 'Oh great, we've just discovered a more creative and novel way to lose a game'.

As the game progressed the more I felt as though Spain were going to take this to penalties and of course find a creative way of 'fluffing it', but somehow, by some miracle, Spain managed to  breach the Paraguay defence via the brilliance of David Villa. The bridesmaid underachievers (Second in line on that ranking only to Holland) had made it to the final four and had now given themselves a chance of making it to the final dance. If it was 2008 then I wouldn't  hesitate in saying that the next game would be just a formality but Germany are looking formidable (well ever since their loss to SERBIA), and Spain, well for you I can say  that you can still take solace in the fact that you'll still play a final match of sorts after the semi, a 3rd/4th place play off against Uruguay is beckoning. Who knows though, I'd love for them to surprise me and themselves by getting past the panzer squad.

The next day the parents and I jumped onto an open top, hop-on/hop-off tourist bus in order to check out the city and set our eyes on a few of Barcelonas' more popular sites. Our first stop was The Temple of Sagrada Familia, a work that Gaudi dedicated himself to until the time of his death. The Sagrada Familia is a church (or cathedral) built in a very specific, unique Gothic style, designed by the world renowned architect Antoni Gaudi. The project which he commenced over a 120 years ago is still under construction, a work in progress if you will, and he himself only got to see a small portion of the project completed before he died. When I was in Barcelona last I did make a passing visit but only viewed the church from the outside. Aside from its sheer size and presence what strikes you on closer inspection is the intricacy and attention to detail on the facade of the building. Looking at the north and south facade from a distance ,it really threatens to deceive. Without paying attention to the detail of the building you could really pass it off as being quite kitsch but when you take to viewing the building section by section then you can only be in awe at how intricate and detailed the facades are. One side, the 'Nativity facade' has two elaborate columns between three doorways, each filled with sculptures of different symbolic significance. It's obviously an understatement to call it amazing but that's exactly what it is.

The 'Passion facade' on the south side of the building was built to illustrate the last week in Christ's life. It incorporates a range of highly moving and emotive sculptures that are supposedly reminiscent of the artists and sculptors of the expressionist school. In terms of personal preference this to me was the more significant side and had a greater impact in terms of the total impression. Aside from  its symbolism and representation of events, the sculptures themselves were fascinating and I had a real liking for the typical style used, i.e., strong angles, smooth lines, clear outlines and bold presence.

Passion facade - Sagrada Familia - Barcelona

Passion facade - Sagrada Familia - Barcelona

As I mentioned earlier, the last time I was in Barcelona I decided to skip making an entry inside the cathedral, I now know that this was a HUGE mistake. Walking into its interior ,what captures your attention are the enormous columns of different colours, green, rose, grey and white that tower 20 plus metres above your head and then branch out in the same manner that the branches of a tree would, in order to support the roof, which in turn looks like a forest canopy. Again, this too me was just completely amazing. The outside of the building just doesn't even provide a hint and what you'll find on the inside. As we were later to discover, much of Gaudi's inspiration for design and form came from nature. Once you started looking at the number of elements that went into making up the interior of this structure you can tell quite easily  as to where he derived his insipiration and how creatively he was able to translate it into such a magnificent design.

Spending a few hours at Sagrdia Familia was more than easy. We did manage to get to another Gaudi inspired destination further along the route of the day, a place named Parc Guell. This was a park constructed at the beginning of the 20th century by a patron to Gaudi, Count Guell. It was in fact a new city planning project that followed the model of English garden cities and at the same time is intimately and intentionally linked to the creative genious Gaudi since the park contains one of the houses that he occupied during the course of his life. The position of the park itself is also quite stunning, located on the west side of Barcelona, looking out over the city to the Mediterranean, the view is mesmerising and will be sure to place you into a trance like, contemplative state if you allow yourself to remain there for more than a few minutes.

Again, after wondering around the park for well over an hour we jumped back onto the bus and headed down to Port Vell and our apartment , the end of another huge day in Barcelona , a truly captivating city!

Nativity facade - Sagrada Familia - Barcelona

The Nativity facade - Sagrada Familia - Barcelona

Ali and I post sangria

Always work with the odds in your favour - time to salsa ladies!

My Barca minders - never know what can happen to a young man

in a foreign city...

View of Barcelona from Parc Guell

Parc Guell - Barcelona

Sagrada Familia interior

Sagrada Familia interior

Interior

Barcelona - The city that Gaudi built

Barcelona 
02 JUL - 03 JUL

Happy Birthday to me!!!

I'm sitting out on the balcony of the fourth floor apartment that we're renting in Barri Gotic, the Old Quarter (Gothic Quarter) of Barcelona. It's been the fourth bluebird day we've experienced here, absolutely spectacular weather lending itself to an even more spectacular backdrop that makes up the heart of Barcelona. It's getting onto about 9:30pm and the sun is just deciding to drop behind the mountains in the west and go hiding into for a few hours. It's at about this time that life on the street (Carrer Ample) below me really kicks in and it keeps going, day in, day out until somewhere between 3-4am. People making there way back from the beach down at La Barcelonetta make there ways into the small bars tucked into every conceivable space on the street and then hey, they're never seen again, drifting away on a cloud of mojito's, caparainha's, sangria and San Miguel.

The view from our apartment on Carrer Ample - Barri Gotic - Barcelona

View from the top floor of the apartment

Morning in Barelona - Carrer Ample - Barri Gotic

The room that I'm in has beautiful large wooden French doors that open out onto the balcony of this pre 1900 building. I've found myself most mornings taking the few steps from my bed to the balcony, setting up camp sitting and having a few cups of coffee with breakfast and watching the world roll on by. Nowhere to be, no deadlines to meet, no assignments, no self inflicted panic regarding the copious amounts of reading that I should have completed prior to an impending law exam. It's a strange thing to be obligation free and leave most of the decisions of your day to chance and whim. It's more than just a little foreign to me, but hey, what's 'foreign' other than a feeling that hasn't been made familiar with the passing of time. Am looking forward to seeing whether or not my character and attitude change 10 months removed from this point, it'll be an interesting comparison.

I arrived here on the 1st of July from Madrid and met the parents at Barcelona airport a little later that afternoon. The next day was my 35th birthday, and I have to say, not the way that I had ever anticipated to be celebrating it. When you're younger you have thoughts, impressions, idealised views of what your life should be and what your expectations are. I'm so far removed from where and what I thought I'd be doing at this time in my life.Sometimes I feel like I'm playing catch up and at other times I count my blessings that the life I thought I'd have right now is some alternate reality that exists for another form of me...I'm good with that...

My birthday was the kind of perfect day that you can only wish for and one which doesn't arrive frequently enough. After spending a few hours on our fourth floor balcony soaking in the atmosphere, the parents and I walked down by the Marina Port Vell by Barcelonetta to one of the main beaches in town, Playa San Sebastia. The area of Barceloneta is the former sea faring district of Barcelona and was built in 1753 on reclaimed land from the sea. Apparently the neighbourhood was constructed according to specific criteria, with uniform and ordered streets and houses that at the time were mainly occupied by fishermen and sailors. The Paseo Maritimo at the top end of Barcelonetta, acting as an adjunct to the Meditteranean, is a long seafront promenade that connects the suburb with the Olympic Port to the north - this area of course being designed and built for the hosting of the 1992 Summer games in the city (7 gold, 9 silver 11 bronze), just in case anyone was interested in our medal tally. We spent a few hours at a bar on one of the beaches, taking in some lunch and downing a litre or two of sangria, looking out over the Meditteranean and judging both the beautiful and not so beautiful bodies that dared to be baring their skin to the sun on this day. Hey, if you're going to flaunt it then expect to pay the price of being judged by passers by, that's got to be the deal, right?

Mum and Dad, Port Vell - Barcelona

Making our way back for some afternoon relaxation we got primed to watch a couple of the World Cup quarter finals that were set to be resolved on this day. Kick-off for the Holland v. Brazil game was at 4pm, Dad and I ducked down into the small tapas bar right next door to our building. About 50mtrs up the street there was already significant overflow coming from the Brazillian bar/restaurant, and a hell of a racket with the yellow army beating out their African rhythms in much the same was as the team is know for playing its football, with passion, Latino fury and dedication to the cause. Early on in the piece Brazil were looking like a team that would be easily walking through this game and also the next couple, making plans already to buy a carry case to take the cup home for the sixth time. I have to say, that type of smugness is not something that sits comfortably with me, and I assume everyone that was in the bar with me felt the same way as they were riding every Dutch challenge and cheering every positive move. Moving into the second half it still looked as though the Dutch had more than just their own personal Everest to climb, they also a need a little touch of Orange infused luck....and it came....from nowhere a Sneijder cross into the box snuck past the keeper and into the back of the net, now it was 1-1 with 28 mins to play!

Brazilians getting all excited to fail

Brazilian confidence tempered and Holland sniffing a chance, Dad commented to me that it was now danger time for Brazil and he could quite easily see Holland going on to win this one. I really don't know where or how he makes these assessments but I hate the fact that his strike rate when it comes to assessing a football match is in the 90% range, really, it's quite extraoridinary. With that said, it was only about 15 mins later than another Sneijder header from a flicked on corner put Brazil down 2-1 and chasing the game for the last quater of an hour. If it's one thing that I do know, like most South American teams, coming from behind is not their forte. This is the point where they crumble and where discipline usually falls apart....and so, with a red card, 10 men and 15 futile minutes Brazil were out of the 2010 World Cup.........OH YEAH,

goodnight you bunch of ball juggling joga bonito millionaires...suddenly the drums from down the street fell silent also, nothing but their caparainha's to drown their samba sorrows in.

Later on that evening Uruguay took on Ghana in the second quarter final, and looking like the true Uruguayan that I do (I have been told more than several times in my life that I look Uruguayan....of all countries right?), I felt compelled to support my brothers in their time of need. In a fairly dour contest with limited chances created by both sides, the game was 1-1 going into extra time. Then in the 29th minute of extra time all hell broke loose! Ghana had a free kick from just outside the box, a header from a Ghanayan player was stopped on the line, the rebound falling back into the path of the same player who then smashed the ball back at the Uruguayan goal. In flight the ball looked to be going in for all money until a Uruguayan defender raised his arm and stopped the ball from crossing the line. A form of cheating, yes....but a last ditch chance to prevent a goal that would have sunk them and in turn  providing the Uruguayans with a final opportunity for them to get something out of the penalty. With A.Gyan from Ghana stepping up to take the penalty,in what virtually would have been the last kick of the game and would have put an African team into the last four of the World Cup for the first time in its history, the kick smacked the bar and flew skyward into the South African evening.

A golden lifeline to Uruguay had just been provided and you couldn't help but feel at this point that it was their destiny to get by Ghana in the ensuing penalty shootout, which ofcourse they did (4-2). Uruguay had essentially done everything they could have to lose the game and had won, Ghana had done all they could have to have won and unfortunately were going home to watch the semi's on their TV's.

....and that my friends was that. About midnight we wondered back upstairs to the apartment, I crashed out on day oneof the start of my 36th year on this earth. As I said earlier, not the way that I ever imagined that I'd be spending it, but  here I am, and I'm claiming it!!!!