The taking of Nafplion.I was lucky enough to go on an "educational" trip to Greece during part of the 1998 World Cup. I say "educational"; 7 17 year old boys, each a less experience drinker than the last, one eccentric teacher, relaxed Mediterranean approach to teenage drinking, and a decent World Cup made for a memorable few days. The night England played Argentina saw us ejected from two bars, some of the least offensive hooliganism of the last forty years (witness us pulling up "do not walk on the grass signs"), a heady pub crawl and an unexpected fully clothed dip (read tumble) in the sea; little remains as memorable as the game though.
Being abroad only enhanced the match, I think, in that our obnoxious, drunken patriotism seemed to turn every Greek in the town into an Argie for the night. Maybe I'd remember the England Portugal '06 game in a similar light in these circumstances. But I think the reason this game is so memorable is the fact that it was fought by Men. Seaman, Adams, Ince, Batty, Shearer: these were Men of character and determination, Men with whom you would not wish to have a fight. I know it's an age thing, because I was younger than Owen in 1998, and I've been older than a good percentage of the team since 2002. But this was the last time that I was a kid watching men play for England, and coincidentally, or perhaps not, the last time I gave a shit about our prospects.
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Post-teenage years World Cups are basically a summer version of Xmas time for me : little more than an extended exercise in drinking and gambling with the odd bit of getting into the festivities.
Prior to writing this post I was starting to feel vaguely excited about England's prospects. Then I remembered how much I hate most of the players, and almost everyone in England, and I started to simmer down again, which is good. I still have a massive fucking flag though, for some reason.
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