Now with pictures!

As promised (and several days too late to be relevant), the blog has been updated with some photos, such as above -- a collection of Polish and Portuguese fans (among others) gathering outside the Cologne main train station two weeks ago.

The dog ate my homework

I had typed up a lengthy post at 6 a.m. in the Munich airport, but the wireless network cut out on me (perhaps the half-hour I had purchased for 5 Euro had run out) and I lost the whole thing. Anyway, here's a recap:

1. The penalty call on Oguchi Onyewu was unequivocally awful. Referee Markus Merk essentially gifted Ghana a go-ahead goal right before halftime, and in doing so, he altered the course of the match. For all the Americans did wrong yesterday (more on that below), they got jobbed -- no question about it. Ghana didn't get off easy, either. Merk's bogus yellow card on Michael Essien means Ghana will miss its best player against Brazil.

2. On a day when Landon Donovan should have made the U.S. team his own, he totally flopped. With Claudio Reyna and John O'Brien out, the Americans needed Donovan to build on his excellent performance against Italy and carry them to victory against Ghana. Instead, he disappeared for long stretches of the match and did nothing with the ball on those rare occasions when he had it. A huge chunk of the blame falls on Donovan for this loss.

3. On the plus side, the American fans acquitted themselves wonderfully again yesterday. U.S. soccer supporters seemed to come of age in this tournament, specifically in the Italy match. Let's hope the passion continues, and extends to games played on American soil. That kind of atmosphere is one of the sport's greatest attributes, and we need far more of it in the U.S.

4. You haven't lived until you've downed a warm Weissbier on a Deutsche Bahn train at 1 a.m. The German train system, by the way, is as great as it was advertised. It wasn't easy to make the transition from those first-class train cabins to coach on American Airlines, although American was kind enough to show "Date Movie." Alyson Hannigan is our generation's Judi Dench, no?

Anyway, now that I'm home, I can post some pictures, which I'll intersperse into the previous entries. Look for that later tonight.

Grandma for sale

After going to a Spanish restaurant to watch the Netherlands-Argentina match last night, we returned to our humble abode at the Hotel Smile, waking up at 7:30 a.m. to the sounds of Turkish pop blaring from the auto repair shop that shares space with the hotel (don't ask).

Following breakfast, we took the U-Bahn (subway) into the old city. Nuremberg's center is surrounded by a wall, and it's quite picturesque, with a little canal flowing past the kind of row houses and shops that you'd see in the Stereotypical Germany brochure. Along one portion of the city wall is the red-light district, where, at noon, women as old as 60 were leaning out of windows, passively offering themselves for the right price. "Disturbing" doesn't do it justice.

You can see one of the ladies of the night in the left of the above photo. I thought I was just getting a shot of the old wall, but an old prostitute snuck into the frame, too. Such a deal.

The sight did not sufficiently squelch our appetite, however, because we then went to what's purported to be the oldest sausage restaurant in Germany, dating back to the 1400s. Bratwurst, potato salad, pretzels and beer -- what could be better? (Again, right out of the Stereotypical Germany pamphlet. Next: I don lederhosen and play an Alp horn.)

We were running behind schedule, so we couldn't tour the Nazi rally grounds. If the United States pulls off the miracle and advances, maybe we'll do that tomorrow. If not, I'm coming home in the morning. Needless to say, the next three hours will be interesting.

The fun's just begun

After being delinquent for a day, I return to you live from the Stadium Media Center in Nuremberg (say that in a Brent Musberger voice for added effect), where the United States and Ghana will play tomorrow afternoon.

We just finished one of the great pleasures of the World Cup, following two simultaneous matches that both had implications on how a group would finish. When Portugal led Mexico 2-1 and Angola took a 1-0 led on Iran, it looked like the Angolans might have a chance to move past the Mexicans into second place, thus earning a spot in the round of 16. Even sportswriters love an underdog, so we were pulling for Angola (especially after the Mexicans tried to draw another penalty with some pathetic play-acting).

Alas, Iran tied it up, and Angola couldn't pull ahead or get the two additional goals they would have needed to pass Mexico in terms of goal differential. So the Mexicans advance, thus ensuring that the CONCACAF region (North America, Central America and the Caribbean) won't be totally shut out of the second round. That would have been extremely embarrassing for the region that the U.S. calls home.

As for Nuremberg, we're staying in a rather ... eclectic place called the Hotel Smile, whose predominant motif is, you guessed it, a smily face. There's even one on the toilet seat. The decor's a little funky, but it'll do. Meanwhile, we're right next to the Colosseum-like stadium that Hitler used for massive Nazi rallies in the '30s. Sort of looks like Harvard Stadium, if Harvard Stadium had a really creepy vibe to it.

Finally, I'll note that the media center is right smack in the middle of a hockey rink, a practice rink located inside the large arena adjacent to the Frankenstadion. There are puck marks on the boards right behind the T-Mobile help desk, in fact. So in the spirit of my surroundings, I offer up a congratulatory chorus of "Brass Bonanza" to any Whalers fans out there. The Cup is yours. Sort of.

More tomorrow from the stadium as the journey (perhaps) comes to an end.

An off day

With no matches to cover and no stories assigned, I took the day off and explored Hamburg predominantly on foot. Unfortunately, I picked the only day it's rained in this city since my arrival.

I walked along the left bank of the Aussenalster, the larger of the Alster lakes, and had an Alsterwasser -- which is not water from the Alster, but beer with lemonade in it. Sort of like a Mimosa, but with a militaristic-sounding name. Much of the lakefront property is consulates, including two that are heavily protected by barricades and armed Polizei, belonging to ... you guessed it, the U.S. and Britain. I was going to take a picture of the U.S. consulate, but thought the Polizei might object.

I then took the subway to Blankenese, which is billed as the Amalfi Coast of Germany. Granted, it's a town built on a steep mountainside on a waterway, and it is picturesque, but I wouldn't say it's Tuscany North. Of course, the rain began falling when I got there, so I hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.

For dinner, I trudged through the rain to a German restaurant that billed itself as dated back to the 1600s. Nice place, decent food, and the traditional music ... of Bob Dylan and Tracy Chapman.

Anyway, we're going out for Guinness and to watch Spain crush Tunisia like a bug.

It's too early in the morning for this

After getting about 3 1/2 hours of sleep, we got up, had breakfast and headed to the Mannheim Hauptbahnhof (main train station -- it's the most important German word I've learned so far) to catch the train back to Hamburg. As I entered the station, a young woman wearing pajamas approached me and said something in German.

Since it wasn't "Kaffee, Tee, Wasser?" or "Hauptbahnhof," I was lost. I mentioned that I didn't speak German, so she kindly translated: "Would you like to sleep with me?"

Now keep in mind, it's 10 a.m., and I'm going INTO the station with bags in my hand, and I just got out of a cab with two other guys with bags in hand. Isn't the answer to your question a bit obvious? Besides, ich habe ein Freudlin (inside joke).

Anyway, I simply said, "No, thank you" in English and went on my way, leaving behind the extraordinarily friendly (and entreprenurial) people of Mannheim.

U.S. wins, 1-1

I hope TV coverage back home did tonight's match justice, both in terms of the atmosphere in the stadium and the magnitude of what the U.S. accomplished. With their World Cup life on the line, the Americans were playing 9 vs. 10 after two red cards, and they were facing an Italian team of such quality, patience and opportunism that a game-winning goal seemed a foregone conclusion.

But remarkably, the U.S. hung on. Steve Cherundolo was an unsung hero, covering virtually the entire right side of the field after the ejections. Landon Donovan ran at more defenders than I've ever seen him do before, especially in an international game, and he displayed some extraordinary skill. Oguchi Onyewu was an absolute monster on defense. The Revs' Clint Dempsey played 61 excellent minutes, forcing Totti to pick up a yellow card early and giving the Italian defense more to worry about in 15 minutes than the Czechs had to worry about in all of Monday's game. And DaMarcus Beasley, out of the doghouse, was a key to taking the pressure off the U.S. defense in the late going.

The U.S. crowd was also great, but it was the kind of match that evokes passions people might not know they have. All of the officiating controversy, the complaints about Italian play-acting, the circumstances of the match itself -- it wasn't a game where you could sit on your hands and wait for someone to start the wave. It sucked you in and didn't let go until the final whistle.

So Thursday's game means something after all. But even if the Americans don't advance (they need to beat Ghana, and have Italy beat the Czechs), they can hang their hat on this performance in Kaiserslautern. It might not be the best result in U.S. soccer history, but it must be the best effort.

U.S. lineups are in

Surprising news for the U.S. -- the Revolution's Clint Dempsey will start, as will Carlos Bocanegra. They're the lone additions to the lineup, and they replace Eddie Lewis and DaMarcus Beasley.

Still no word on how they'll be aligned -- could be a 4-5-1 with McBride as the lone forward, a 4-4-2 with Landon Donovan paired with McBride, or even a 4-4-2 with Dempsey and McBride up front.

Meanwhile, the usually staid media corps couldn't keep its emotions in for the Italy-Ghana match, which was chock-full of great chances and a couple of goals for the unheralded Ghanaians. The 2-0 upset turned this group on its head, and should give the Americans just a touch of confidence as they prepare to mount their own upset bid in an hour.

The game is afoot

The vaunted Czech Republic just gave up a goal to Ghana 70 seconds into the match. Given how thoroughly the Dutch and Argentines have dominated Group C, it might be time to proclaim Group E the toughest at this tournament. And the Americans, who were quarterfinalists four years ago, could be the worst of the four.

Three hours to game time in Kaiserslautern. The media center here is already packed, as were the trains from Mannheim 3 1/2 hours ago. It's a tiny city (only about 100,000 inhabitants), and the stadium is on a hillside that's part of the picturesque Palatinate Forest, so it's not the most accessible place.

On the train here, you could pick out the tourists -- they were the ones taking a picture of the railroad sign at Frankenstein a few miles down the tracks (I didn't have a good angle from my seat, so no photo).

More later...

Mannheim, but no steamroller

Greetings from the business center at the City Partner Augusta Hotel in Mannheim, our home base for the U.S.-Italy match today in Kaiserslautern (it's an hour away by train).

Yesterday we took another train down here from Hamburg, went to the U.S. press conference at the Fritz-Walter-Stadion (a very cool setting -- the stadium is on a mountainside, with a great view of Kaiserslautern), then came "home" to Mannheim. We had a great dinner at a Greek restaurant (Opa!) right across the street, then talked fußball (I finally get to use the accent mark! -- by the way, the ß is pronounced as a double-S) with some England fans and a couple of U.S. college kids in town for the match.

The other highlight yesterday was being interviewed by Spanish TV for a story they were doing about the American team´s decision to stay at Ramstein Air Base, located 20 miles from Kaiserslautern. Anything the team does that´s remotely related to the military is going to raise eyebrows in Europe due to the distaste for the Iraq war, but the mini-furor about where the team spends the night was a bit silly. Anyway, I told the Spanish guy that we´re Americans and we can do whatever we want, wherever we want, and to whomever we want, and that if he didn´t like it, he could take it up with Senor Rumsfeld.

Or I just said that the Americans were just staying at the base for convenience reasons and that they weren´t trying to provoke anyone or make a statement about their sense of security. I forget -- it was a long day ...

Anyway, I´m hogging the computer, so I´ll take my leave. More from K-Town when we get there.

A taste of Dublin

We went to an Irish pub a couple of blocks away tonight for dinner, and to watch the second half of Paraguay-Sweden. The proprietor, a Dubliner named Aidan, boasted that he served the best pint of Guinness in Europe, including Ireland.

He’s pretty close – the Guinness was equal to what you get in Ireland, meaning it’s exponentially better (i.e., smoother, far less bitter) than its American counterpart. Guess it’s not Irish water that makes the difference after all.

It’s a relatively early night tonight, because we have an 8:30 a.m. train to catch. Going to Kaiserslautern, the city in the woods, for Saturday’s U.S.-Italy match. A full report on the proceedings tomorrow.

Cinderella has arrived

Trinidad and Tobago had auditioned for the part (and if they’d held on for a tie – or, perish the thought – a win against England today, they would have gotten it), but Ecuador has emerged as the Cinderella of the tournament, booking its place in the second round with a 3-0 victory over Costa Rica this afternoon in Hamburg.

Now 2-0-0, the Ecuadorans can actually win Group A if they tie the Germans in the first-round finale. Based on what we’ve seen so far, it could happen. Remember, Ecuador smoked Poland 2-0, while the Germans needed an injury-time goal to beat Poland 1-0 last night.

Ecuador has always been something a one-trick pony. Because of the altitude in their capital city of Quito (9,000 feet above sea level), they've dominated during home games in South American World Cup qualifying – they even beat Brazil and Argentina there in qualifying for this tourney. But without the best home-field advantage on their continent (and maybe the world), they’re just another team -- as a first-round exit at the last World Cup (Ecuador's first) attested.

Until now, that is. In this low-lying, port city, the Ecuadorans put on an impressive show, scoring three superb goals and exposing the Costa Ricans’ weaknesses. They capped it off with a bang, when Ivan Kaviedes headed home an Edison Mendez cross in stoppage time. That goal gave Ecuador a two-goal advantage over Germany in the race for first place. All the unheralded visitors will need is a draw, and they’ll win the group, which would be unbelievable. And pretty cool.

Worth the trip

They’ll play better matches at this World Cup, but it will be hard to match tonight’s Germany-Poland encounter for atmosphere. The Westfalenstadion in Dortmund is a fantastic stadium – extremely compact, yet big enough to hold 65,000 people ... and they were in a frenzy at the end.
The way I put in my newspaper story was that the entire stadium was like a bottle of seltzer water, and it had been shaken all night by the near-misses, the hard fouls, the time-wasting by the Polish keeper – not to mention the underlying doubts that German fans have about this particular team. But after 91 agonizing minutes, the Germans finally found the festive release they so desperately sought when Oliver Neuville scored in injury time. It was as if he popped the top on that well-shaken bottle, and a nation’s emotions burst out all at once.
More tomorrow, but I've got to sleep. It's 5:30 a.m.

No girls in the window

I’m a little behind because Tuesday night’s festivities took a bit of a toll, I must confess. Mike Biglin and I went to the Hamburg Media Lounge for dinner and drinks (and to watch the Brazil match), and after that, we checked out the infamous Reeperbahn, Hamburg’s red-light district. Lots of sex shops and what I assume are strip clubs (no, we didn’t go in), but it wasn’t as seedy or shocking as it’s made out to be. Then again, we didn’t see everything; there’s a street that’s described as a block-long bordello that’s off-limits to minors and all women (except, of course, the ones who are working there).

We forsook the sleaze for good, old-fashioned bar hopping, and had several enjoyable conversations (and toasts) with people from all over. The night ended with two U.S. servicemen, a Hamburg resident in a Glasgow Celtic shirt and his Belgian buddy at our table. That’s what the World Cup is all about!

Sadly, wake-up time came too quickly on Wednesday, as I trudged to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) for the 4 ½-hour trip to Dortmund for the Germany-Poland match. The morning and afternoon were not quite as enjoyable as the previous night, that’s for sure.

U.S. Oy! U.S. Oy!

The plan is to stay here as long as the U.S. team remains in the tournament, but I booked a June 23 flight on the hunch that they wouldn't make the second round. After last night's 3-0 pounding at the hands of the Czech Republic, that prediction looks pretty darn good.

The Czechs totally outclassed the Americans, who can no longer surprise good teams in the wake of their upset of Portugal four years ago. No one takes them lightly anymore, but that doesn't mean that they're as good as the best teams in the world. America has never produced a player with the skill of Pavel Nedved, and his successor in the playmaking role, Tomas Rosicky, could turn out to be even better. Last night, however, Rosicky did the most damage in the uncharacteristic role of shooter, not playmaker. His 30-yard strike, one of the best goals of the tournament, essentially doomed the U.S. to defeat.

The American fans came out in force, but when things didn't go their way, they turned awfully quiet, and the giant Czech contingent (dressed all in red -- what a sight) was naturally more boisterous.

We left Gelsenkirchen at 12:40 for a train back to Hamburg, which arrived at 4:30 a.m., just as dawn was breaking. I took advantage of a relatively slow day to sleep until 2 p.m. Best decision I've made on the trip so far.

Tonight, it's to the Hamburg Media Lounge, where the city's tourism board wines and dines us in the hopes of getting good press. Even better, Brazil will be on the TVs there. Should be fun.

Sea of red

The streets of Gelsenkirchen were choked with red-clad fans of both the Czech Republic and United States this afternoon, as the downtown became a giant block party. Once again, the liberal laws on alcohol consumption in public is a big hit among World Cup visitors.

It's shaping up to be the best, most impressive showing by American fans at a soccer match -- anywhere, anytime. The U.S. supporters were out in full force (and full voice) in the city six hours before game time, and they'll be loud by kickoff. Will they outnumber and outsing their Czech counterparts? I'm guessing: yes and no, respectively.

Meanwhile, an outrageous non-call has helped Japan take a 1-0 lead over Australia in Kaiserslautern. Root for the Aussies to tie it up.

So much for that German stereotype

Last night’s Angola-Portugal match was far more competitive than anyone anticipated, especially after Pauleta gave the Portuguese a 1-0 lead four minutes into the match. But the unheralded Angolans displayed a wonderful attacking style, created several great scoring chances and got some great saves from Joao Ricardo. I don’t think the Angolan fans could be too disappointed in the 1-0 loss, and the massive, boisterous Portuguese contingent got the three points they wanted.

The famed German organizational skills have yet to present themselves here. Last night in Cologne, the media shuttle from the main train station to the stadium was an eight-person van – entirely too small. After the match, there were so many media types waiting for these vans (which come only once every half-hour) that the organizers had to commandeer a bus that was bringing other journalists to the media parking lots.

Unfortunately, they didn’t tell the people who were already on the bus for the parking lots. Once the bus started toward the train station, the parking-lot people rightfully complained – and the driver told them to get off the bus. Multilingual cursing ensued. What a mess.

After taking advantage of Germany’s absence of an open-container law on the train platform (Bitburger, 0.5 liters, only 2.20 Euro – not bad), I rode from Cologne to Bochum, where we stayed in a hotel. Today, it’s the US-Czech Republic in Gelsenkirchen.

So much for that German stereotype

Last night’s Angola-Portugal match was far more competitive than anyone anticipated, especially after Pauleta gave the Portuguese a 1-0 lead four minutes into the match. But the unheralded Angolans displayed a wonderful attacking style, created several great scoring chances and got some great saves from Joao Ricardo. I don’t think the Angolan fans could be too disappointed in the 1-0 loss, and the massive, boisterous Portuguese contingent got the three points they wanted.

The famed German organizational skills have yet to present themselves here. Last night in Cologne, the media shuttle from the main train station to the stadium was an eight-person van – entirely too small. After the match, there were so many media types waiting for these vans (which come only once every half-hour) that the organizers had to commandeer a bus that was bringing other journalists to the media parking lots.

Unfortunately, they didn’t tell the people who were already on the bus for the parking lots. Once the bus started toward the train station, the parking-lot people rightfully complained – and the driver told them to get off the bus. Multilingual cursing ensued. What a mess.

After taking advantage of Germany’s absence of an open-container law on the train platform (Bitburger, 0.5 liters, only 2.20 Euro – not bad), I rode from Cologne to Bochum, where we stayed in a hotel. Today, it’s the US-Czech Republic in Gelsenkirchen.

You never sausage a place*

The kind souls at Deutsche Bahn have sprung for free train trips for us media leeches, so this morning I left Hamburg and took a four-hour ride to Cologne (Koln), located along the Rhine.

Not having done anything touristy so far, I arrived eight hours before game time so I could take in the sights. The first sight is the most impressive -- the gigantic Cologne Cathedral (Kolner Dom). It's a house of worship that even Mormons would find a bit ostentatious. I keed, Governor, I keed.

Anyway, most of the tourists inside the cathedral were wearing soccer gear -- primarily Portuguese and Angolans, along with Turks, Trinidadians, Brazilians, Japanese and more than a few Americans (The U.S. plays an hour away in Gelsenkirchen tomorrow.). It was a rather odd sight at first, but it soon dawned on me that this was the natural union of two of the world's great religions. As if to reinforce that theory, the city organizers are staging the "FanFest" (an outdoor match-viewing/booze-chugging party) at the base of the hallowed cathedral.

(I have plenty of pictures, but forgot the USB cord at home. Maybe tomorrow I'll find one in Gelsenkirchen.)

After touring the Kolner Dom, I followed the Lonely Planet guidebook's advice and went to Fruh am Dom, a beer hall, for lunch. The local specialty is called Kolsch, sort of like a summer ale, but without the excessively citrus taste. It's served in tiny (0.2 liter) glasses that resemble XXL test tubes. But it's not a ripoff; a test tube of Kolsch costs less (1.50 EUR) than a test tube of Coke (2.00). And the waiters carry the tubes 10 at a time in containers that look like the ones bingo addicts keep their lucky markers in.

I finally gave into temptation and sampled the bratwurst, which came with fantastic fried potatoes and a cole-slaw type salad that also earned high marks. Given that this was my first square meal of the trip, it's not surprising that I was pretty pumped about the whole thing.

Four hours and 20 minutes before kickoff, a group of about 12 Portuguese fans were singing over beers at a cafe. They launched into the national anthem, and all of a sudden, those 12 became about 50, belting out the words and filling the streets with a proud, mighty sound. It was a chill-down-your-back kind of moment, and I expect plenty more of them in the stadium tonight.

Finally, today's adventure was made possible by a wonderful invention in the train station. You give the machine 4 euros, a door opens, you put your suitcase in it, the door closes, a receipt spits out, and you go on your merry way, free of the burden of lugging a giant duffle bag all over the place.

After seeing the town, you return to the station, insert the receipt into the machine, and the bag appears magically behind the door, seconds later. And since I got my bag when I wanted it, one can safely assume that American Airlines didn't design said machine.

*--apologies to Pedro from the South of the Border billboards

Not the safest form of worship

On the way back to downtown Hamburg, our bus passed a van which read "Gracias Diego" on the back (complete with two photos of Maradona) and "Gracias Dios" on the front. Not sure if those statements were one and the same.

The best part about this Argentine party on wheels, however, is that the van's sliding passenger door was wide open -- as the vehicle was traveling up to 30 mph!! -- and an Argentine fan was just sitting there, waving and enjoying a beverage.

That's World Cup fever. And absolute stupidity.

Anyway, it was an excellent match and a tremendous atmosphere. The crowds here are, naturally, far more soccer-savvy than they are back home. When an Ivorean lost the ball out of bounds with a bad touch, they whistled up a storm. Seconds later, a probing cross from another Ivory Coast player drew appreciative applause.

The only negative about the crowds in Europe: They still do the wave. Maybe 7 or 8 times during the match, a bunch of fans started a countdown (Funf, fier, zwei, drei, ein!) and mostly everyone would rise up as if it were 1984 all over again. The Argentine section generally served as the Wave's kryptonite, and I thank them for it.

Dinner tonight in the press catering room was an adventure (it's not free, by the way, so I can complain if I wish. But I actually don't wish.) Virtually all of the food was gone by the time I saddled up to the line, so I had my first-ever broccoli and strudel meal. All things considered, both were pretty good. I now feel obligated to come up with an even more ridiculous combination later in the trip. Celery and pudding comes to mind...

Tomorrow (well, in seven hours), it's off to Cologne by train, with Angola-Portugal at night.

It's not easy being orange

As for tonight's match, I'll admit I was pulling for the Ivory Coast. They generated the better chances, played a captivating style and provided more entertainment. But the finishing left a lot to be desired, and that's why they're facing a must-win against the Dutch in an orange vs. oranje clash that should be a great one.

The atmosphere here was remarkable. Thanks to a cantilevered fabric roof, the sound is amplified and it stays in the building, and the Argentines were in fine voice. Most neutrals were on the side of the underdogs, as evidenced by the shrill chorus of whistles that accompanied virtually every Argentine touch of the ball in the waning moments of the match.

More later -- I have a shuttle to catch.

El Pibe

So we're taking the media shuttle to the stadium in Hamburg, and during a traffic jam, whom do we spot in the backseat of a taxi but Carlos Valderrama. Or as he's better known, the guy with the hair.

Yeah, him. One of the reporters from a Hamburg paper was quite excited when we mentioned this news to him. "He's so cool," said Ardi. Can't argue with that assessment.

But the biggest celebrity in attendance was Diego Maradona, who has lost about 800 pounds since he went on the Fidel Castro Weight Watchers plan (don't ask). The Argentine legend (and the Cali cartel's best client) looked pretty good, and man, was he pumped when Argentina scored.

A yawner ... but it gets better

I figured it was jetlag and sleep deprivation that left me so disinterested in the England-Paraguay match this afternoon, but other, more lucid folk have since confirmed that, yes, that match was simply crap. Full marks to Paraguay for playing England so close, I guess, but it wasn't much to watch (or to pass up a nap for).

Thankfully, Sweden and Trinidad and Tobago are saving the day with a tremendously entertaining match right now. Seven minutes left in a 0-0 match that would go down as an extraordinary upset. Trinidad is downright lousy; one of their starting defenders (Avery John) hasn't gotten a minute of playing time with the Revolution, for heaven's sake. Oh, and John got a red card just after halftime, so T&T is playing one man down.

But here they are, on the brink of tying Sweden and virtually assuring that they'll have something to play, even if they lose to England on Thursday. Shaka Hislop, the T&T goalkeeper, has stood on his head -- a tremendous performance bordering on Tugnuttian (sorry to non-hockey fans).

And it's a final: Trinidad and Tobago 0, Sweden 0. Never mind the scoreline, that was the best game of the tournament so far. Hopefully, Argentina and Ivory Coast will trump it here in Hamburg.

Buenos Aires, Germany

The Argentines have invaded Hamburg. The plaza in front of the Rathaus (city hall) was full of blue-and-white striped shirts, and a couple hundred of them were gathered in front of the entrance -- as if they were actually going to invade. Fortunately, the coup didn't come to fruition.

If they don't have tickets, the Argentine fans will spend tonight at the FanFest on the edge of the St. Pauli neighborhood, giving tens of thousands of fans quick and easy access to the city's infamous red-light district on the Reeperbahn once the game ends. Very considerate of FIFA. (And no, I haven't been to the seedy section yet.)

U.S. coach Bruce Arena and goalkeeper Kasey Keller addressed the media this afternoon at the team hotel. Keller is a great ambassador for U.S. Soccer -- extremely articulate and thoughful, fluent in Spanish (which delighted a large portion of the media today).

More from the stadium later. Argentina-Ivory Coast, 3 p.m. your time.

Sketchy moment of the day

An ad in the British Airways in-flight magazine:

"Surgery and Safari:
South African surgery,
away from public scrutiny.
Call ..."

Draw your own conclusions, which seem to be endless.

Wilkommen im Hamburg!

It's 9:27 p.m. German time, and 3:27 p.m. Eastern, and I haven't slept in about 28 hours, so forgive me if this post lacks coherency.

The good news, however, is that the fine folks at British Airways delivered my bag to the Hamburg apartment about an hour ago, thus making this morning's unpleasantness at the baggage claim a distant, irrelevant memory.

Anyway, Hamburg is, at first glance, a stunning waterfront city, with several lakes and the Elbe River running through it. Granted, it helps that the weather was downright San Diegan today. But it's still an impressive European city.

And, as you might guess, it's mad about the fussball. Fittingly, the first thing you see out the left-side windows of the plane upon landing is a flag of HSV, the local side in the Bundesliga, flapping proudly in an airport abutter's backyard.

The city was abuzz tonight for Germany's 4-2 win over Costa Rica (with a stunning clinching goal by Torsten Frings, whose bit of cheating ensured that the U.S. wouldn't reach the semifinals four years ago. After that goal tonight, Herr Frings, all is forgiven.), but fans from all over the world have converged here: Argentines, Ivoreans (their nations play here tomorrow), Ecuadorans, Poles, Italians, Americans, Swedes, just to name a few.

As for the U.S., they held a press gathering at the team hotel (which is guarded by armed cops) in which individual players sat in roundtable interviews with small groups of reporters for25-30 minutes. Good stuff, even if one Italian journalist was intent on asking U.S. players what they thought of the killing of Zarqawi. He then expressed astonishment that they seemed to be glossing over the subject, as if he thought he were interviewing CNN's Peter Bergen or something.

I guess it's a better question than, "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?" Or "If you were a gay bee, would you love me." Yes, Jon Lovitz was funny once.

T-minus: One day