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RE:
Update:
Apart from my boss, whose triumphalism I will forgive in exchange for his pledge to remain in a good mood for the next 3 years and 11 months, I can report that my largely German workplace has been joyous, but respectfully so.
In a remarkably similar train of partisan thought to @sweder, I also started off firmly in the DE camp but became increasingly exasperated by Müller in particular. One fears he has become dragged into the cheating mindset by his shameless München colleague, Robben. Both fine footballers whose reputations are in peril.
It got so bad that I actually reached the point of switching my allegiance to the Argies late in the game. Mercifully, our swarthy brethren from the dark side of the Falklands resolved not to be out-Argied and returned to the full-on brutality we have come to love and loathe. It saved the day, and I was firmly back on message by the time that the likeable Mario Götze opted for permanent deification. I was delighted that the match was resolved without penalties.
I'd been in Germany for the weekend, but just a few hours before kick-off, while enjoying a post-lunch coffee in the delightful town of Baden-Baden, in the northern Black Forest, I realised there were too many weaknesses in my original plan, which had been to mosey on south and catch the game in a bar on German territory -- probably either in Freiburg or Konstanz, just across the border from Switzerland. The major flaw in this scheme was that I am still firmly positioned on the friendless wagon. (Today is the 50th consecutive day in this spell of casual teetotalism).
The very thought of sitting in a bar for several hours, sober, while those around me sunk deeper into their World Cups, became crashingly abominable. I immediately set sail for home, arriving back 5 hours later, with 3 minutes to spare before kick-off.
Some of my colleagues had headed for an indoor arena in Zurich, where 4,000 Germans and about 200 Argentina supporters were gathered. Unlike (one suspects) any similar assembly of England fans in the UK, the beer flowed freely until supplies ran out sometime after 4 a.m., at which point the jubilant masses tottered home. One can only imagine the emotional chaos when the goal went in.
And so, another World Cup, and a good one, is over. Do other people measure their lives in these tournaments? I sometimes ponder the question of how many more I will live to see. If I can squeeze in another 5 or 6, I won't feel too hard done by, though I'm not expecting to see England triumph again before that ultimate 'bastard in the black' puts the mournful whistle to his lips to signal that it really is all over.
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World Cup Brazil 2014 / Weltmeisterschaft Brasilien
