STICKLER'S WORLD OF EURO-YODELING
"Our close personal pal, Stickler, of that sassy-saugage-filled breakfast burrito of a blog, Stickler' World, was to been sent to Europe on behalf of Rivalfish for some on-site coverage of an age-old Austrian Pickle Sheathing Festival. We asked him to cover the World Cup. We couldn't offer him plane fare, salary, or an apology for the stain on his parents' bathroom sink, but we thought he'd do it out of his love for the us, er, the game. But now he hates us and e-mails spiteful e-mails to his co-editor (his foxy sister) over at Stickler's World. But we know a guy that banged her, and we get his e-mails anyway! Isn't counter-spite spite a beautiful thing?!?!?! :) ;)" - Rival Room Editor
by Josh Stickler, www.sticklersworld.blogspot.com, sticklersworld@gmail.com
It was the beginning of a long night as I traveled from Barcelona, Spain to Interlaken, Switzerland. I was aboard one of the fabled night trains the night before the World Cup Opener between Costa Rica and Germany. I sat down in my reclining first class chair when a young man boarded the train, running up and down the rows with a video camera, kind of like a Japanese tourist who was just let out of the box he was shipped over to the US in. He immediately came up to me and asked, “Are you going to the World Cup?" Technically he asked me twice, the fist time in Spanish and the second in broken English. I told him that eventually I would make it there, but first I had some place to see. He then recounted his story for me...
Pablo was a young man from Venezuela, and for the first time ever in his life he was traveling to distant lands so he could see his favorite sport in the world. His mother was from Argentina, so of course this is who he was rooting for, but if they lose, it's ok because his heart lies with Brazil. His girlfriend was sad that he had left, and at night she would cry to him on the phone about how she missed him. But no matter what, he was going to the World Cup. With nothing but a train schedule, a small pack, and a book about the World Cup he was on his way. Pablo took out his booklet and showed me how he was going to get the autograph of every player from every team. Then he showed me the complete, detailed schedules and how he was going to travel with his Eurail pass from game to game. I've never seen such a Soccer nut in my entire life, but it made me glad to know there were people like that out there. With no tickets and no place to stay, Pablo was about to embark on the greatest journey of his life. And maybe our paths will cross again...
Pablo scurried off into another compartment of the train to continue his interviews. The people sitting next to me, Tom and Laura, were from the states. Since Pablo had left they thought it safe to show me the secret that lyed within there bags. They then removed a
small brown folder and took out two Green tickets. Emblazoned with holograms and writing, they were the most beautiful things I have ever laid my eyes on. Yes, they had entered into the lottery for tickets 6 months ago and now they were on there way to see US in their first round game against Italy. Their story was a troubled one of getting a call saying they hadn't won tickets, only to then receive another call hours later asking which game they wanted to attend. Their trip was flung together in the course of a couple of months and now this sister-brother duo were on their way. I was jealous and thought long and hard about finding a way to take there tickets while they were sleeping. But my skills at being a thief are not that good, and I ended up knocking lots of bags over on top of myself, waking up the train, and bruising one of my legs. But this was for the better because I think I actually respected them!
So I arrived in Interlaken after a very restless night of sleep. Found a place to stay at the greatest hostel, Balmers, I have been to yet, and went white water rafting to prepare myself for the first game, which would begin at 6:00 PM. Who knew I would be the only one in my raft to fall out into a raging river? Lucky for me all the drinking I had done on this trip had thickened me up a little, so I wasn't injured too badly. After a couple of beers I made my way back to the hostel to find they had set up a large screen in the center of the outdoor hostel area. I approached all the picnic tables to find they had signs on them saying, "Reserved." Who reserves a table at a hostel? So I sat down at it. 5 minutes later I was approached by three guys speaking Swiss-German, a hybrid language that actually has no written form. They yelled some jibber-jabber at me, and I think they realized quickly by the blank stare on my face I had no clue what they said. They then sat down and introduced themselves in English. This is how I met Martin, Tom, and Pascuel.
The three of them worked at Balmers and were from Interlaken. They let me stay after I told them everything they said to me would be published for a few people to read on the internet. Martin then asks, "Are you rooting for Germany?" I replied, "NO!" He then said, "Good, the Swiss people support Costa Rica, we don't like Germans at all!" A bold statement, but understandable since the Swiss are also in this tournament.
The game then began and the Swiss guys started offering meats, cheeses, and breads to this lonely American. It was awesome. We sat in silence watching Germany score the first goal of the game at 5:12 into the first half. Philip Lahm I think. He made an amazing outside kick that came careening to the top of the goal and bounced off the pipe and in. The crowd had grown larger than Starr Jones’ delusion at this point. Everyone rooting for Costa Rica, not a single German fan to be seen. Two guys sitting in front of me from Australia, Billy and Dave, showed me their book, which was written by someone from the press. It was called The World Cup and
Economics. I guess it was comparing the economics of each country to how their teams had done in the past. It was a very interesting piece of material, and from it I learned that the teams to beat are, and will always be Italy, Brazil, France, England, and Germany. Never wavering, these are the teams that always make it to the finals. They have also all been at one time hated by our imperialistically fantastic nation. Nevertheless, this is so unlike our tournaments in the USA, as it always seems to be a toss up as to who will win it all.
I was getting thisty so I got up to take advantage of the “buy 1 beer get one free� happy hour special. While in line waiting I could here the roar of the crowd as Costa Rica tied the game. Answering almost immediately with another goal, the Germans came in scoring at 15:48. Tom from Switzerland looked at me and screamed, "Bullshit!" He then explained the source of his frustrations, how Costa Rica wasn't playing fast like the Germans. Germany's strategy for all the games was to play faster then there opponents, wearing down the other team and scoring more by the final whistle. I asked him which team he was rooting for and he said, "England! Because in Europe you root for your favorite team with your favorite players, the same way in the states you may live in California, but root for the Cubs" Fuckin’ A! Wise words from a foreign man!
An American, named Jason, from Michigan who is sitting next to me and is overhearing our conversation decided to ad his two cents. As a soccer novice, these were his first games and was aiding his experience with the same lubricant he uses for any sporting experience. With beer in hand he said, "I'm cheering for Costa Rica, not to jump on the bandwagon, but because they are the underdogs. Everybody in the US loves an Underdog. For example, Rudy, The USA Hockey Team, Napoleon Dynamite (I'd vote for Pedro)!" All of a sudden Germany scores again at 60:46. The crowd is getting restless. Faces are getting more Arian and my palms sweatier. The game continues as Costa Rica brings themselves within one point before Germany camps out in front and gasses one by the emaciated Costa Rican goalie for a final score of 4-2.
I feel I've learned a lot from these games, watching people from so many different countries with their hatred of Germany emblazoned on theirs souls, as they sit and watch a team they are actively rooting against. As we all walked away from the screen, the shouts of cheap beer could be heard from the bar, and everyone’s faces brightened as we walked down into the darkness. Costa Rica may have lost this game, but there is plenty of tournament left and plenty more stories to be told. But for now, I have to get ready for my sky diving trip. If you guys don't hear from me it's because my shoot didn't open! Till tomorrow, GO England!
"I really want to know if his 'chute opened or not. I'm really getting sick of editing his Euro-hippie ramblings while being jealous of his ass-blessed trip. By the way, Stickler, you meet any girls?" - Rival Room Editor
by Josh Stickler, www.sticklersworld.blogspot.com, sticklersworld@gmail.com
It was the beginning of a long night as I traveled from Barcelona, Spain to Interlaken, Switzerland. I was aboard one of the fabled night trains the night before the World Cup Opener between Costa Rica and Germany. I sat down in my reclining first class chair when a young man boarded the train, running up and down the rows with a video camera, kind of like a Japanese tourist who was just let out of the box he was shipped over to the US in. He immediately came up to me and asked, “Are you going to the World Cup?" Technically he asked me twice, the fist time in Spanish and the second in broken English. I told him that eventually I would make it there, but first I had some place to see. He then recounted his story for me...
Pablo was a young man from Venezuela, and for the first time ever in his life he was traveling to distant lands so he could see his favorite sport in the world. His mother was from Argentina, so of course this is who he was rooting for, but if they lose, it's ok because his heart lies with Brazil. His girlfriend was sad that he had left, and at night she would cry to him on the phone about how she missed him. But no matter what, he was going to the World Cup. With nothing but a train schedule, a small pack, and a book about the World Cup he was on his way. Pablo took out his booklet and showed me how he was going to get the autograph of every player from every team. Then he showed me the complete, detailed schedules and how he was going to travel with his Eurail pass from game to game. I've never seen such a Soccer nut in my entire life, but it made me glad to know there were people like that out there. With no tickets and no place to stay, Pablo was about to embark on the greatest journey of his life. And maybe our paths will cross again...Pablo scurried off into another compartment of the train to continue his interviews. The people sitting next to me, Tom and Laura, were from the states. Since Pablo had left they thought it safe to show me the secret that lyed within there bags. They then removed a
small brown folder and took out two Green tickets. Emblazoned with holograms and writing, they were the most beautiful things I have ever laid my eyes on. Yes, they had entered into the lottery for tickets 6 months ago and now they were on there way to see US in their first round game against Italy. Their story was a troubled one of getting a call saying they hadn't won tickets, only to then receive another call hours later asking which game they wanted to attend. Their trip was flung together in the course of a couple of months and now this sister-brother duo were on their way. I was jealous and thought long and hard about finding a way to take there tickets while they were sleeping. But my skills at being a thief are not that good, and I ended up knocking lots of bags over on top of myself, waking up the train, and bruising one of my legs. But this was for the better because I think I actually respected them!So I arrived in Interlaken after a very restless night of sleep. Found a place to stay at the greatest hostel, Balmers, I have been to yet, and went white water rafting to prepare myself for the first game, which would begin at 6:00 PM. Who knew I would be the only one in my raft to fall out into a raging river? Lucky for me all the drinking I had done on this trip had thickened me up a little, so I wasn't injured too badly. After a couple of beers I made my way back to the hostel to find they had set up a large screen in the center of the outdoor hostel area. I approached all the picnic tables to find they had signs on them saying, "Reserved." Who reserves a table at a hostel? So I sat down at it. 5 minutes later I was approached by three guys speaking Swiss-German, a hybrid language that actually has no written form. They yelled some jibber-jabber at me, and I think they realized quickly by the blank stare on my face I had no clue what they said. They then sat down and introduced themselves in English. This is how I met Martin, Tom, and Pascuel.
The three of them worked at Balmers and were from Interlaken. They let me stay after I told them everything they said to me would be published for a few people to read on the internet. Martin then asks, "Are you rooting for Germany?" I replied, "NO!" He then said, "Good, the Swiss people support Costa Rica, we don't like Germans at all!" A bold statement, but understandable since the Swiss are also in this tournament.
The game then began and the Swiss guys started offering meats, cheeses, and breads to this lonely American. It was awesome. We sat in silence watching Germany score the first goal of the game at 5:12 into the first half. Philip Lahm I think. He made an amazing outside kick that came careening to the top of the goal and bounced off the pipe and in. The crowd had grown larger than Starr Jones’ delusion at this point. Everyone rooting for Costa Rica, not a single German fan to be seen. Two guys sitting in front of me from Australia, Billy and Dave, showed me their book, which was written by someone from the press. It was called The World Cup and
Economics. I guess it was comparing the economics of each country to how their teams had done in the past. It was a very interesting piece of material, and from it I learned that the teams to beat are, and will always be Italy, Brazil, France, England, and Germany. Never wavering, these are the teams that always make it to the finals. They have also all been at one time hated by our imperialistically fantastic nation. Nevertheless, this is so unlike our tournaments in the USA, as it always seems to be a toss up as to who will win it all.I was getting thisty so I got up to take advantage of the “buy 1 beer get one free� happy hour special. While in line waiting I could here the roar of the crowd as Costa Rica tied the game. Answering almost immediately with another goal, the Germans came in scoring at 15:48. Tom from Switzerland looked at me and screamed, "Bullshit!" He then explained the source of his frustrations, how Costa Rica wasn't playing fast like the Germans. Germany's strategy for all the games was to play faster then there opponents, wearing down the other team and scoring more by the final whistle. I asked him which team he was rooting for and he said, "England! Because in Europe you root for your favorite team with your favorite players, the same way in the states you may live in California, but root for the Cubs" Fuckin’ A! Wise words from a foreign man!
An American, named Jason, from Michigan who is sitting next to me and is overhearing our conversation decided to ad his two cents. As a soccer novice, these were his first games and was aiding his experience with the same lubricant he uses for any sporting experience. With beer in hand he said, "I'm cheering for Costa Rica, not to jump on the bandwagon, but because they are the underdogs. Everybody in the US loves an Underdog. For example, Rudy, The USA Hockey Team, Napoleon Dynamite (I'd vote for Pedro)!" All of a sudden Germany scores again at 60:46. The crowd is getting restless. Faces are getting more Arian and my palms sweatier. The game continues as Costa Rica brings themselves within one point before Germany camps out in front and gasses one by the emaciated Costa Rican goalie for a final score of 4-2.
I feel I've learned a lot from these games, watching people from so many different countries with their hatred of Germany emblazoned on theirs souls, as they sit and watch a team they are actively rooting against. As we all walked away from the screen, the shouts of cheap beer could be heard from the bar, and everyone’s faces brightened as we walked down into the darkness. Costa Rica may have lost this game, but there is plenty of tournament left and plenty more stories to be told. But for now, I have to get ready for my sky diving trip. If you guys don't hear from me it's because my shoot didn't open! Till tomorrow, GO England!
"I really want to know if his 'chute opened or not. I'm really getting sick of editing his Euro-hippie ramblings while being jealous of his ass-blessed trip. By the way, Stickler, you meet any girls?" - Rival Room Editorposted by Rival Room Editor at
12:01 AM
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