STICKLER's WORLD of EURO-YODELING: THE END

"Our close personal pal, Stickler, of that sassy-sausage-filled breakfast burrito of a blog, Stickler’s 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 us, er, the game. But now he hates us and writes 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

I swear I walked the length of the train twice before I sat down in the bicycle compartment. The German train workers were yelling at the masses of people to get on the train and find a seat. I suddenly knew how my German ancestors felt when they were being herded onto the trains for the "Work Camps." But I was just going to Berlin for the final.

I made my home between two bicycles for the next 7 hours. At least it wasn’t two children on the way to their genocidal fate.

When we arrived the masses exited and I checked my watch, 15 minutes till Germany played against Portugal for third place. I hurried to the baggage holding center that all train stations have and dropped my bags off after donning a Germany jersey and quickly painting my face with the host country’s flag. I found a pay phone and called my friend Sebastian from Munich who was in Berlin. His broken English was hard to understand, but I made out “Meet me at the Giant Shoes.� “Giant Shoes� I thought to myself? Why are there Giant Shoes lying around, maybe I misunderstood, since my German is shakier than my grandma. I wandered outside the train station and headed in the general direction of the masses. Low and behold upon the horizon a pair of Adidas big enough for a giant came into view. Why would someone make Shoes this big? I guess in Germany the bigger the better. Just look at their 1.5 liter beer steins and their women’s jaws.

Sebastian and his sister Susannah met up with me and led me to the Fan Fest just in time for the Germany game to begin. Beer tents lined the sides, 8 giant plasma screens with well over 500,000 people watching lay straight ahead. It’s for THIRD PLACE you pussies! Oh wait, I was one of those pussies. The place was packed with more people then a Back to School Sale at Wal-Mart in a Hispanic neighborhood. People were chanting for their team, everyone was happy and watching intently. Germany ended up winning the game in one of the most miraculous endings I had seen yet at the Copa Mundial. The people cheered and filed into the streets chanting their songs. Once again, THIRD PLACE. I asked Sebastian what he thought. He said, "In our country it has never been ok to wear our flag or our colors with pride. All because of our past people have always had trouble showing their pride for Germany. It is just not done because of the atrocities that define our country. But now with the games being in Germany people don the flag and sing out loud how much they love it here. I just hope with the games being over things stay this way instead of going back to the way they were before!" Stunned I grabbed a beer and sprayed it into the air and sang Deutshland, Deutshland, Deutshland, Deutshland. But even if we forget about the entire sport of soccer/football in the time it takes Adidas to shift its marketing focus to a Playoff-ready Derek Jeter, we sure as hell ain’t forgetting about the Holocaust. Speaking of Germany’s past , does anyone know where I should send my German-Jew exchange student with Attention Deficit Disorder?

After hours of partying we made it back to Susannah’s on the East Side of Berlin. We slept for about 3 hours and then woke up and ran out the door back to the fan fest so we could get there to see the German Team come to thank the people for their support in the team’s THIRD PLACE finish. There were millions of people when we arrived, and most looked like they had slept their all night so as to stand in the front row. We were all the way back at the second monitor, but close enough to see the stage on the monitor and over the people’s heads. Everyone was cheering when the team came out with their Danke Deutschland shirts. It was awesome. I was drinking beer at 9:00 AM and already knew it was going to be a long day. Again, when it was over, everyone filed into the streets singing. But suddenly the Germans were drowned out by another sound; that of Italians and thousands of them marching upon the fan fest with their flags raised high.

From the other direction thousands of French singing their songs stampeded forth. When both met in the middle they stopped and stared at each other like Sharks and Jets full of pasta and cowardice. The crowd around them went quiet watching both teams of fans in a stare-down reminiscent of a 3rd Grade Playground Staring Contest. All of a sudden the entire front line of Italian fans fell to the ground howling in pain. Of course, they were “faking an injury,� but isn't that what the Italians do. The crowd dispersed when the Green and White Party Bus showed up. (that would be the Berlin police). My friends and I spent the rest of the day chanting "You can buy a referee in Italy" to the tune of "If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands." The Italians did not like us so much. Two of my cousins were canned from their jobs as Union delegates back in Trenton. About an hour before game time we made our way to a small outdoor courtyard in East Berlin. The masses of crumbling buildings scared me because I was sure the shouts and cheers would cause them to fall apart on top of us. Did I mention of was piped full of LSD? The courtyard was packed with Italian and French. Who would have thought? And the beer was super cheap at only 2 euros for a bottle.

I had heard from a lot of Americans that they were going to cheer on Italy. I ask Why? Why would you cheer on a team that has cheated their way into the finals in Berlin. For example, in Australia vs. Italy, the clock had been up for a minute and half, nothing actually occurred to warrant that penalty kick, and Australia therefore lost. They have taken dives throughout every game worse than any other team. In the US we are taught that bad sportsmanship won't win you games. Italy taught the world that bad sportsmanship will win you the World Cup. They also taught us that merely inspiring the world’s most terrible atrocities does not get you nearly the street-cred as giving yourself a memorable mustache and doing it yourself. F*cking Mussolini. Not enough people hate that douche. I’m pretty sure he did some shitty shit. Italy scored first and the crowd booed. France finally came back and tied it up. No, wait it was the other way around. And the crowed was happy, not booing. And with a show of brute force, Zidane head butted an Italian Player sending up cries from the crowd. Everyone was happy because no one likes Italy, or Italians, or either Raspatello brother. We sat in hushed silence as both teams played through overtime. The Shootout was no different, the silence overwhelming and then the cheers when France scored and the booing when Italy would knock one in. When France missed the one goal, I knew it was over. Everyone did. The crowd left in silence after Italy had won.

We made our way to the fan fest where the Italians were partying in the streets everywhere. But the look of the grim reality that was on everyone else’s faces showed that no one but Italians was happy about this game. We partied until 5 AM, then slept in a train station with about 200 other people. Fighting for room in the train station was tough, but I used my kung fu skills and won myself a spot on the ground. I was the Caligula of the evening.At 8:30 am i boarded a packed train for home, yep that was it, that was the end of my trip. In retrospect it was the best trip I have ever taken in my life. I experienced things that I never have before in my life. Someone asked me, what did you learn? My answer that there is a whole lot more world out their then any of us can fully understand and we shouldn't let the little things get to us. I bet no one has ever said that before upon returning from abroad. I will the miss the people that I met along the way and hopefully I will see them all once again. But for now I have only one thing to think about, getting a press pass for South Afrika in 2010!