World Cup memories
My earliest memory of a World Cup was Mexico ’86. Apart from the catchy Aztec Lightning BBC soundtrack – which I proudly bought on 7‑inch vinyl – it was the Hand of God and England’s traditional quarter‑final exit that stood out.
From then on, I was glued to every major tournament.
In 2002, having just come back from my round‑the‑world trip, I watched the Japan and Korea World Cup unfold and desperately wished I was there. Combining my two passions – football and travel, seemed like the perfect plan.
So after the tournament, my brother and a mate of ours joined the official England Supporters Club, and after a brief visit to our first major tournament at Euro 2004 in Portugal, the scene was set.
We were off to follow England across Germany at the 2006 World Cup.
We had a ticket for every game including the final (should England get there), a campervan, England flags and shirts, Jumpers for Goalposts CD, a map of Germany and shed loads of beer and baked beans – we were ready.
Despite planning it like a military operation, the plan was simple: rock up in whichever town England played, then get out of there as soon as we could and head off and explore Germany in between games. For as long as England lasted.
Expectations were high as we left the UK after work on a Friday, joining thousands heading to the Calais ferry.
England’s “Golden Generation”, managed by Sven, were in decent form.
Rooney was injured and would miss the first two games, but we had a secret weapon in 17‑year‑old Theo Walcott.
So secret, none of the 100,000 travelling England fans knew who he was. I’m not convinced the rest of the squad did either.
Mainz and the Paraguay Game
After a few hours’ drive through France and Belgium, it was dark and time for our first stop – a Belgian petrol station swamped with England fans doing exactly the same thing.
By lunchtime the next day we were in Mainz, a small city attached to Frankfurt, where England would take on Paraguay. We checked out the pubs with a local I’d met years earlier in Cape Town.
Match day arrived with stinking hangovers – a sign of things to come.
But the sun was shining, and after several cups of tea and a large serving of beans on toast from the campervan’s trusty gas stove, we were ready for the short train ride into Frankfurt.
I decided to take my camcorder into the stadium, failing to read the small print on the ticket stating filming equipment would be confiscated. German security turned out to be thorough.
I was busted at the bag search. Unsure what to do, I grabbed my bag and legged it into the crowd. Disappeared like a ninja.
England got off to the best possible start: a classic Beckham delivery turned into his own net by Carlos Gamarra in the third minute. From then on it was awful viewing, but ended 1‑0.
Beer in Plzen and Crouch’s Robot
England’s next game was in Nuremberg. Being the adventurers that we are, and with its proximity to Czech Republic, we ditched the van and got a train to Plzen – home of Pilsner. So we drank some. Lots, in fact.
The city wasn’t much to shout about, but it was a welcome distraction from football‑crazy Germany, and the beer was far cheaper.
Back in Nuremberg, England beat Trinidad & Tobago 2‑0, with Peter Crouch introducing the world to the robot. A cultural moment.
The Romantic Road (Sort Of)
England’s final group game was several days away in Cologne, giving us the perfect excuse for a monster road trip.
First up: the Romantic Road.
Two brothers, a best mate, a cramped campervan, too many kebabs and tons of baked beans hardly set the scene for romance, but strip away the marketing label and it truly feels like quintessential Germany.
Village after village, castle after castle, forested valleys – it was an awesome road trip.
Friendly locals, great beer, enough bratwursts to last a lifetime and stunning scenery made it an epic part of the adventure.
A brief stop in Munich to watch Australia v Croatia at a fanfest gave us the chance to catch up with Aussie mates, have a night out and eat some of the best kebabs on earth – served by an Ian Rush, the 1980s Liverpool football legend, lookalike.
Next up was hiking in the Bavarian Alps on the Austrian border. We did a spectacular day hike up to 1,700 metres and visited medieval castles before stopping for the night in the quaint town of Füssen.
Cologne and TV Fame
In Cologne, England played Sweden. Before the game, it was known England would face either the hosts or Ecuador next.
Soaking up the sun, we were suddenly ambushed by an ITV microphone and asked who we’d prefer to play. Viewers back home were privileged to have my brother and me grace their TVs later that evening, talking a load of rubbish.
The second time we’d made it on TV following England – my fourth time overall. I was ready to start signing autographs.
It was an awesome cauldron of a stadium with a cracking atmosphere. England threw away the lead twice, with Joe Cole’s screamer right in front of us being the highlight. Despite not setting the world on fire, England were through to the last 16.
Stuttgart and Ecuador
As my brother and I flew home briefly for work, our mate drove the van to Stuttgart for England v Ecuador. We were joined by another mate from England and our French mate from Paris.
Tickets were selling for 500 euros, but my mate the master negotiator, waited until five minutes before kick‑off and grabbed one for 150.
England laboured to a narrow 1‑0 win thanks to a Beckham special. Relief all round. England were once again in the quarter‑finals.
Portugal: The Same Old Story
After another brief flight home, we were soon in Essen, close to Gelsenkirchen, where England would face Portugal – the same foes who knocked England out on penalties at Euro 2004.
We stayed at a sleepy campsite with friendly Germans. Beer was drunk in the sun. On the way to the game, we befriended two Germans – Müller and Schnitzel – who had tickets and were incredibly welcoming.
Another quarter‑final. Another penalty shoot‑out loss.
Rooney was sent off early in the second half. Without TV replays, we had no idea why and spent the next hour blaming the ref and Ronaldo.
With ten men, England played their best football of the tournament, and Owen Hargreaves won the hearts of every England fan.
The atmosphere was electric from our elevated seats. Sadly, England fluffed three penalties and another four years of hurt was guaranteed.
The End of the Road
After a few texts to work confirming I’d be back in two days, our World Cup was over. We headed back on the ferry the next day, feeling gutted. In part because of the football but also sad to give up the road trip. We were well prepared to carry on.
Germany had been awesome. The football was a sideshow to a brilliant country with great people, diverse landscapes and efficient culture.
The World Cup brought fans from all over the world and created a friendly, unforgettable atmosphere.
Germany and its people won a place in our hearts. Football or not, I’d end up visiting many more times in future.
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