Steak from Argentina, football from Italy and Ghana, dent in the floor from me

We honestly do try to go to as many different places as possible to watch the games. Variety, spice of life, you understand. So, as impressive as the fan mile in Berlin is, we decided to try something different for the Italy-Ghana game.

Now, Italy is very important to me. I always follow how they do in every major competition. In fact, I've followed them in every major competition I can remember.

It began with the 1982 World Cup. I remember going downstairs to fiddle with the little black-and-white TV set we had in the kitchen to try and catch the Italy games. I remember Paolo Rossi scoring goals, especially since he wore such an odd number (20) for a striker. I remember Tardelli wheeling away after scoring a goal in the final, he face contorted in sheer ecstasy. And I especially remember the goalkeeper - Anyone who shares a name with me can't be all bad.

We actually found the place we ended up at completely by accident. It was this Argentinian Steak place in the kind of middle of nowhere. We only stumbled across it because we were trying to take a short cut to go to this Summer Beer Garden we saw and then crossed the road because we thought it was nearer... you get the idea.

For some reason, they were charging half-price for every food item on the menu. And it's happy hour from eight until closing. Admittedly the original list price was kind of expensive, but half price was good. The restaurant decor was nice, a classy and comfortable mid-range place, the sort of place you might bring a date. I certainly hope nobody was on a date in there that night.

So we went in, ordered quarter-kilo steaks and watched the game. And what a game it was.

Both Italy and Ghana were playing some of the best football seen in a tournament so far. Credit must be given to both teams for playing such an open game. The level of technical ability on show was so high, and there were chances to be had.

I think the highlight of the game for my brother must have been when he saw me stand up as Luca Toni headed the ball, controlled it and then when he struck it against crossbar, I cried out in pain. I then dropped to my knees on the carpeted floor, which probably saved me from breaking my kneecaps.

If there were dating couples in that restaurant that night, I sincerely hope they were so engrossed in each other that they didn't notice me.

Anyway, if you want to know, the restaurant is midway up a street parallel to Oranienburger street. No, I can't remember what the name of the restaurant was. That's the World Cup for you.

Labels: germany, world cup