Day -463. WorldCup2018
I was sitting at a car dealership this morning, waiting for my car to be serviced. As I enjoyed my free coffee I sat so I could face the goings on inside rather than look at the parking lot outside the window. I started making notes about car dealerships, car salesmen and women, service department customer care agents. It was a pleasurable experience. The coffee was good, not just because it was free. It was really good coffee. The staff were happy and friendly. And I reflected on how, of course, these people know what they are doing. Give me good service and I will keep coming back. I wanted to sit there longer. Drinking a coffee and reading a book, when's the last time I had that luxury? It's a far cry from Chalie in Malta, the one man show, who will grunt at you if he does come out from under a car to greet you, will grunt at you again to leave the keys somewhere and, if you're lucky. will tell you that maybe it will be ready today, or tomorrow, "but I don't know." Before anybody rams my perceived (by you) snobbery down my throat, this is exactly what I was making notes about and how
I could compare it to watching football. Should we really care about the whole "fan experience" or just the football on the pitch? No frills non-league football or the Champions League at Stamford Bridge with all it's excessive frills? That was my argument that I was going to expand on later. But then Barcelona happened.
There's a story in my head about a football loving guy who was a fan of the game rather than a fan of a particular team. His hobby, because he was independently wealthy and could do this, was to buy tickets for matches which promised to be unique experiences: World Cup finals, domestic cup finals, league deciders and the such. He was always looking for the "I was there moment', but he'd had some bad luck which was mostly down to his own impatience. Let's call him Jim, because it's nice and short.
It started in 1989 when Arsenal had to go Liverpool on the final day of the season and win by two goals to win the league over Liverpool. In the 91st minute with Arsenal winning 1-0 and Liverpool in possession, Jim decided he didn't want to stick around for an anti-climatic ending. Liverpool would win the league, again, and their would be no fairy-tale win for Arsenal. So he made his way out on the street, happy to get away before the crowds. And then he heard it: the muffled cheers. If it was Liverpool scoring the noise would have been incredible, but this was coming from a smaller crowd and was surrounded by silence. Yes, Michael Thomas had scored THAT goal in the 92nd minute. Arsenal were champions and Jim was standing on an empty street outside Anfield. Ah, they'll be another time, he thought.
As he carried on with his quest and watched a number of fairly flat World Cup finals he decided that Manchester United against Bayern Munich in the 1999 Champions League final could be the one. He battled with his gut feeling that it wouldn't be anything special: the clinically organised Germans against the English team. What usually happens? The Germans get into the English players' heads and win, without too much fuss. But he thought because that's what was expected it could be the opposite. At the 91 minute mark it was all, unfortunately, going to plan, the wrong plan. Bayern were winning 1-0 and United were huffing and puffing trying to find a way through. Jim thought he had been so wrong and this would be a good time to get back to his hotel and forget that he had hoped for anything better. And, of course, as wandered down the empty streets he heard it, not once, but twice: the roar of a fans celebrating a goal. It could have been Bayern but he knew he was wrong. United's 2-1 win was regarded as the most exciting finish ever to a Champions League final.
Not to be deterred, but determined to see out a match to the end he bought a ticket for the 2005 Champions League final. This one was easy. Matches between English and Italian teams were always special and he was looking forward to a classic final. What he did not expect was for Milan to be beating Liverpool 3-0 at half-time. Now he was in a conundrum. This was definitely over. The second half would be a controlled Italian procession to the end. It was his first time in Istanbul and he wanted to experience what he had heard to be one of the most fascinating cites in the world at night. So he decided to ditch the dead as a contest football match and walk the streets of Istanbul. By the time he got into the city he was hearing and seeing cheers of wild excitement from fans dressed in Liverpool colours who didn't have match tickets. He peeked into a bar to check the score: 3-3 going into extra time. So he stayed and watched the penalty shoot-out and saw Liverpool complete the incredible comeback, the most amazing Champions League final of all time. But a bar was not the stadium. When he told his story to his fellow drinkers they were consoling and assured him his time would come. But, they whispered to each other, you are never, ever, going to see something like that again.
You would think that Jim would have learned his lesson. He happened to be in Manchester in May of 2012, not for football, but for a distant relative's wedding. At the wedding one of his cousins mentioned he couldn't go to the Manchester City-QPR match the next day. He wasn't really a football fan and had been given the ticket by one of his business clients. He offered it to Jim, who thought why not. It was the final day of the season and it would be fun to watch City celebrate their first league win in forever. All they had to do was beat almost relegated QPR. And there he was again, 91st minute, QPR winning 2-1 and he started thinking, "I can't even get lucky when it's a sure thing." His phone buzzed. His cousin, another one, asked him if he wanted to come join the newly weds for a pre-hoenymoon drink. "Football's pretty much over. City are losing right? Better get out of there before the crowd get really angry." Sure, he thought. This is over. Or is it? Yes, yes, it is. City always mess up. That's their deal. And off he went. And, yes, the rest is indeed history. One, two goals. City are champions. Jim is sitting in a cab on the way to the Dog and something.
Jim is now disillusioned, believing he will never see "the one." Instead his life will be full of the "I was there, but I left" moments.
On March 8th 2017 his cousin (the non-football fan) was on a business trip in Barcelona and Jim happened to be there too. The cousin had been given two tickets to the Barcelona-PSG Champions League last 16, 2nd leg match. Because Barcelona had lost the first leg 4-0 it was easy to get corporate tickets. Nobody really wanted them. Jim was not going to give up on an opportunity to see the most exciting team of his generation, even if was probably going to be a foregone conclusion that they would be eliminated. His cousin would be asking lots of questions about the game and Jim resolved that he would be happy to share his knowledge and explain his love for football. It was looking like the miracle was on when Barcelona where 3-0 up. Then PSG scored and it was, to all intents and purposes, all over. Eighty-eight minutes on the clock and Jim's cousin turned to him and said, "so what do you think? Get out of here? We'll have time for a few drinks. Make a bit of a night out of it. This is over, isn't it?" Jim stood up, beckoned his cousin towards the exit while looking down at the pitch for one more glimpse of the forlorn looking Messi, Neymar and Suarez. "No!" Jim said suddenly. "Let's stay. There's a few minutes left. I want to be here to enjoy PSG's big moment."
And it happened. The moment. The once in a lifetime moment. The "I was there and I will never see anything like that again" moment.The mother of all moments. Neymar, 88 minutes. 4-1. Neymar, 91 minutes, penalty. 5-1. Sergi, 95 minutes, unbelievably, 6-1" Chaos, absolute bedlam all around Jim and his cousin. "Wow, Jim, this is pretty incredible. It really does go right up until the end. Who would ever leave early?" Jim was so high, so drunk on emotion that he was ok with that. He had his moment.
(Aidan did not have Jim's moment but would have wanted nothing more that to be at the Nou Camp this evening. Also, because of the workings of TV rights and available channels in Aidan's house he was watching Manchester CIty play Stoke. It was 0-0. Dark jokes about doing it on a cold winter night in Stoke swirled around in his head, even though this was Manchester)
I was sitting at a car dealership this morning, waiting for my car to be serviced. As I enjoyed my free coffee I sat so I could face the goings on inside rather than look at the parking lot outside the window. I started making notes about car dealerships, car salesmen and women, service department customer care agents. It was a pleasurable experience. The coffee was good, not just because it was free. It was really good coffee. The staff were happy and friendly. And I reflected on how, of course, these people know what they are doing. Give me good service and I will keep coming back. I wanted to sit there longer. Drinking a coffee and reading a book, when's the last time I had that luxury? It's a far cry from Chalie in Malta, the one man show, who will grunt at you if he does come out from under a car to greet you, will grunt at you again to leave the keys somewhere and, if you're lucky. will tell you that maybe it will be ready today, or tomorrow, "but I don't know." Before anybody rams my perceived (by you) snobbery down my throat, this is exactly what I was making notes about and how
I could compare it to watching football. Should we really care about the whole "fan experience" or just the football on the pitch? No frills non-league football or the Champions League at Stamford Bridge with all it's excessive frills? That was my argument that I was going to expand on later. But then Barcelona happened.
There's a story in my head about a football loving guy who was a fan of the game rather than a fan of a particular team. His hobby, because he was independently wealthy and could do this, was to buy tickets for matches which promised to be unique experiences: World Cup finals, domestic cup finals, league deciders and the such. He was always looking for the "I was there moment', but he'd had some bad luck which was mostly down to his own impatience. Let's call him Jim, because it's nice and short.
It started in 1989 when Arsenal had to go Liverpool on the final day of the season and win by two goals to win the league over Liverpool. In the 91st minute with Arsenal winning 1-0 and Liverpool in possession, Jim decided he didn't want to stick around for an anti-climatic ending. Liverpool would win the league, again, and their would be no fairy-tale win for Arsenal. So he made his way out on the street, happy to get away before the crowds. And then he heard it: the muffled cheers. If it was Liverpool scoring the noise would have been incredible, but this was coming from a smaller crowd and was surrounded by silence. Yes, Michael Thomas had scored THAT goal in the 92nd minute. Arsenal were champions and Jim was standing on an empty street outside Anfield. Ah, they'll be another time, he thought.
As he carried on with his quest and watched a number of fairly flat World Cup finals he decided that Manchester United against Bayern Munich in the 1999 Champions League final could be the one. He battled with his gut feeling that it wouldn't be anything special: the clinically organised Germans against the English team. What usually happens? The Germans get into the English players' heads and win, without too much fuss. But he thought because that's what was expected it could be the opposite. At the 91 minute mark it was all, unfortunately, going to plan, the wrong plan. Bayern were winning 1-0 and United were huffing and puffing trying to find a way through. Jim thought he had been so wrong and this would be a good time to get back to his hotel and forget that he had hoped for anything better. And, of course, as wandered down the empty streets he heard it, not once, but twice: the roar of a fans celebrating a goal. It could have been Bayern but he knew he was wrong. United's 2-1 win was regarded as the most exciting finish ever to a Champions League final.
Not to be deterred, but determined to see out a match to the end he bought a ticket for the 2005 Champions League final. This one was easy. Matches between English and Italian teams were always special and he was looking forward to a classic final. What he did not expect was for Milan to be beating Liverpool 3-0 at half-time. Now he was in a conundrum. This was definitely over. The second half would be a controlled Italian procession to the end. It was his first time in Istanbul and he wanted to experience what he had heard to be one of the most fascinating cites in the world at night. So he decided to ditch the dead as a contest football match and walk the streets of Istanbul. By the time he got into the city he was hearing and seeing cheers of wild excitement from fans dressed in Liverpool colours who didn't have match tickets. He peeked into a bar to check the score: 3-3 going into extra time. So he stayed and watched the penalty shoot-out and saw Liverpool complete the incredible comeback, the most amazing Champions League final of all time. But a bar was not the stadium. When he told his story to his fellow drinkers they were consoling and assured him his time would come. But, they whispered to each other, you are never, ever, going to see something like that again.
You would think that Jim would have learned his lesson. He happened to be in Manchester in May of 2012, not for football, but for a distant relative's wedding. At the wedding one of his cousins mentioned he couldn't go to the Manchester City-QPR match the next day. He wasn't really a football fan and had been given the ticket by one of his business clients. He offered it to Jim, who thought why not. It was the final day of the season and it would be fun to watch City celebrate their first league win in forever. All they had to do was beat almost relegated QPR. And there he was again, 91st minute, QPR winning 2-1 and he started thinking, "I can't even get lucky when it's a sure thing." His phone buzzed. His cousin, another one, asked him if he wanted to come join the newly weds for a pre-hoenymoon drink. "Football's pretty much over. City are losing right? Better get out of there before the crowd get really angry." Sure, he thought. This is over. Or is it? Yes, yes, it is. City always mess up. That's their deal. And off he went. And, yes, the rest is indeed history. One, two goals. City are champions. Jim is sitting in a cab on the way to the Dog and something.
Jim is now disillusioned, believing he will never see "the one." Instead his life will be full of the "I was there, but I left" moments.
On March 8th 2017 his cousin (the non-football fan) was on a business trip in Barcelona and Jim happened to be there too. The cousin had been given two tickets to the Barcelona-PSG Champions League last 16, 2nd leg match. Because Barcelona had lost the first leg 4-0 it was easy to get corporate tickets. Nobody really wanted them. Jim was not going to give up on an opportunity to see the most exciting team of his generation, even if was probably going to be a foregone conclusion that they would be eliminated. His cousin would be asking lots of questions about the game and Jim resolved that he would be happy to share his knowledge and explain his love for football. It was looking like the miracle was on when Barcelona where 3-0 up. Then PSG scored and it was, to all intents and purposes, all over. Eighty-eight minutes on the clock and Jim's cousin turned to him and said, "so what do you think? Get out of here? We'll have time for a few drinks. Make a bit of a night out of it. This is over, isn't it?" Jim stood up, beckoned his cousin towards the exit while looking down at the pitch for one more glimpse of the forlorn looking Messi, Neymar and Suarez. "No!" Jim said suddenly. "Let's stay. There's a few minutes left. I want to be here to enjoy PSG's big moment."
And it happened. The moment. The once in a lifetime moment. The "I was there and I will never see anything like that again" moment.The mother of all moments. Neymar, 88 minutes. 4-1. Neymar, 91 minutes, penalty. 5-1. Sergi, 95 minutes, unbelievably, 6-1" Chaos, absolute bedlam all around Jim and his cousin. "Wow, Jim, this is pretty incredible. It really does go right up until the end. Who would ever leave early?" Jim was so high, so drunk on emotion that he was ok with that. He had his moment.
(Aidan did not have Jim's moment but would have wanted nothing more that to be at the Nou Camp this evening. Also, because of the workings of TV rights and available channels in Aidan's house he was watching Manchester CIty play Stoke. It was 0-0. Dark jokes about doing it on a cold winter night in Stoke swirled around in his head, even though this was Manchester)
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