Mozza had to coach his team in a series of Qualifying finals, so Marcus and I caught up, shopping and exploring the streets of Stuttgart.
Bloody good, even if we got lost in a Department store. While in the crystal department, we were comparing prices of excellent wine decanters when we made the sick realisation that we were turning into old bastards. There was a time when we would have been in the electronics section, comparing the physics suites of numerous first person shooter games, but now… Marcus told me to shove it up my ORREFORS.
We had a glance at Portugal v Iran over a coffee, but it wasn’t much of a contest. Portugal looked good, Iran didn’t.
Then Landes Pavilion. Mozza was shit scared. Italy was shit. A great early goal, an own goal by Zaccardo and then Italy self destructed. De Rossi elbowed a yank in the nose and got sent off, it was all downhill from there. Italy 1-1 USA. We got a bit pissed, a bit tired, then ate some OUTSTANDING currywurst at a really cool wurst bar which stocked Veuve Clicquot and Evian. Very cool.