Europa Meister 2008

I'll interject with a currently topical entry before continuing recapping our crazy May. In June, i.e., right this second, Switzerland and Austria are co-hosting the world's second-biggest soccer extravaganza, the 2008 Euro Championships or--here's a great German translation--Europameister 2008! The Euro format resembles the World Cup's and also occurs every four years, but only European teams qualify; every country fields its national all-stars and nearly every game feels like a virtual grudge match (since every country holds grudges from the past 2,000 years or so). You may know that Europeans revere soccer above all else (but here it's called football, fußball, futbol, etc.)--the continent's NFL, MLB, and NBA rolled into one--and Europeans are gonzo about its every facet.

Steph and I consider ourselves sizeable international soccer fans, attending the 1998 and 2006 World Cups in France and Germany, respectively, and waking up repeatedly at 3:30am during summer 2002 to watch the U.S. national team play at World Cup hosts Korea/Japan. For EM 08, four Swiss cities (Zürich, Bern, Basel, Geneva) and four Austrian cities (Vienna, Innsbruck, Salzburg, Klagenfurt(?)) host games. The epicenter of Zürich's tournament activities (the "FanZone") is none other than the Sechseläutenplatz, a mere ten-minute walk from our front door, where a miniature stadium with seating for 2,500 is now erected along with three gigantic TV's (including one standing in Lake Zürich, very cool) with viewing space for 45,000 fans (they say). The entire east side of the city's river and lakefront, from the main train station stretching two miles south, shuts down every evening all month for beer and sausage and pretzel and (did I mention?) beer vendors.

The FanZone opened Friday night, so we hit the scene after dinner to witness a relatively slight crowd and the city's opening concert by Mel C of the UK's now thankfully defunct Spice Girls (if that band possessed any talent, Mel C unfortunately wasn't it). On Saturday, Basel hosted the tournament's opening game--Switzerland v. Czech Republic--and the anticipation country-wide was almost palpable. The Swiss national team coach's wife had an epileptic fit earlier in the week caused by stress, and he looks like he's next, because there's SO much pressure for host Switzerland to reach the second round, but the competition is much tougher than the World Cup because the world's perennially mediocre teams (such as, sadly, the U.S., Mexico, Asia, Middle East, Central America, etc.) aren't in.

Steph and I hit the FanZone again just after the game start on Saturday to a much livelier setting, thousands of people milling and drinking and eating (and drinking) and talking on cell phones and watching the big screens (and teenagers doing what they're best at, overimbibing and acting stupid); mostly Swiss but also fans from Portugal and Turkey, who played later that night, and a few French, Germans and others. Switzerland played spiritedly but was unlucky to lose 1-0 to the tough-as-nails Czechs. After two beers and a currywurst each, Steph and I stood near the exit, watching thousands of dejected Swiss file out and debating hanging around to watch the following game when our whole evening changed...

Steph rides the same commuter train many mornings as a nice American guy (PA) who lives in our neighborhood and works in her same office building near the airport. As ex-pat strangers do, they somehow recognized each others' origin and have chatted at times, also once or twice with his girlfriend. Well, the two of them bumped into us near the exit, enjoying a grand time after apparently consuming three times our beers during the game (crazily enough, I recognized the couple because Steph had originally pointed them out on the identical weekend flight we took to Rome in March), accompanied by a small international contingent of two Swedes and two Mexicans. It turns out the American guy's girlfriend is Australian, fairly drunk and a fun riot who, after five minutes of chatting, instantly loves Steph.

When they suggested (unaided) that we hit our favorite bratwurst stand followed by our favorite British pub, we were sold. All six in the group were quite friendly; four work for ABB, an enormous Swedish/Swiss global engineering company and major local employer. As you might imagine, the evening's former sobriety deteriorated rapidly. Crammed into the pub drinking pint after pint of Whatever Lager, watching Portugal dismantle Turkey on the pub TV's, we met another very nice couple, American/German combo, and a friendly South African guy chatted me up. Which is why Steph and I love international soccer events--month-long parties with amiable people from around the globe gathering to meet and enjoy each other's differences and, more importantly, to uncover similarities and have a blast.

Without too much detail, the night was just warming up. Since nobody in Switzerland speaks Spanish, my new Mexican friend taught me some choice Mexican Spanish curses which we practiced yelling at Portugal's superstar player on TV (didn't help, they won 2-0). The group later staggered around town, among the other people staggering around, visiting several additional bars and being denied entry at a few clubs (I think); very late at McDonald's our new Swedish friend convinced us that Americans can't resist McDonald's french fries; we agreed, caved in and scarfed McDonald's for the first time in eight months. The clock read something like 4:00 or 4:30am when we arrived home to sleep almost entirely through an utterly useless Sunday...until the Day 2 games started at 6:00pm Sunday evening, that is...

I'll post a few pics tomorrow, gotta run now because we bought tickets to watch tonight's game in the miniature stadium...