Germany vs. Turkey: 3-2

The Germany vs. Turkey match in the Euro Cup took place this evening, and we watched it on the television whilst hearing the radio commentary in the corner room. Gi. was cheering Germany, whereas J. and I were cheering Turkey; everyone else was (fairly) neutral.

It was a good, gripping game. Going into it, the Turkish team was down by many players because of injuries and fouls in the previous matches, and there were hardly any substitutes, but the bets (if I correctly interpret the charts that accompany the Guardian minute-by-minute reports) were still largely in their favour. They had come far despite the expectations to the contrary. Germany, though a solid team, had not been doing so well.

Even though a goal was not scored in the first 20 minutes, and after the equalizing German goal in the 26th minute there was nothing for a long while, it was thrilling enough. Then and later, it felt as if there was always a drive toward the goal. There was fouling and diving, but none of it, or so I thought, on a truly dastardly order; the one bloody clash of heads between Simon Rolfes and Ayhan Akman was accidental; it did disturb me that the referee made bad calls on the fouls. The fouling was done with panache, but the diving wasn't, so the poor sportsmanship of the latter was unredeemed by histrionic interest. In the second half the Turkish team was not at all mobile enough, and there were at least three times when, if one player had run a little into the open, his teammate could have passed to him and he might have scored a goal.

What added to the drama was the double outage of the television feed, due to a looming thunderstorm, so that, from here to London and Rome to Montreal and Argentina (as I learned in the Guardian's report), viewers were left with a blank screen and inane fill-in commentary. Whenever this occurred, the crowd somewhere out in the streets roared with disdain. But the second time, on television, a genius hooked us up to a Swiss channel's footage, so we could follow the game after all.

The match went into the final ten minutes with Germany leading 2-1, but then that fortuitous goal was scored by Semih Senturk, and so it looked as if Turkey might still win, until Philipp Lahm scored in the 89th minute. At that point there was much jubilation, which I felt out of place because the injury time — four minutes — had yet to be played. And, sure enough, Turkey was granted a free kick. It was like a film. Teammates and opponents haggling around in front of the goal. Goalkeeper with concentrated face. Spotlights glaring. Stadium at the highest pitch of excitement. The player on whom it all depends nervously licking his lips and mentally preparing to shoot. His foot draws back, it swings and makes contact, the ball is in the air, soaring and soaring . . . and it goes far over the net. So not a Hollywood ending, except from the German perspective.

Then the game went out with a whimper and not a bang, as a last-minute substitution was made by the German side, and goalkeeper Jens Lehmann took his time with launching out the ball, which was then passed around in the Turkish half and kicked over the centre line in one final, long, shallow shot, as the whistle was blown and the spectators began to celebrate the German victory. At this point, I admit, I had a rather long face. But the Turkish side did have lots of chances that it muffed, so I'll concede that the team that played marginally better won.

Predictably, the celebration in the streets was enthusiastic and protracted, though the last time Turkey won a game it was much more lively. The honking, the chanting, and the whistling were quite over in about an hour. However, a most unfeeling individual did set off two firecrackers close to our apartment after 1 a.m.*; the window was open, it was noisy, and it even startled Mama from her sleep.

*On June 26th, and in German time (I set this blog to publish in Pacific Standard Time, and haven't changed it because I like having my clocks at different hours, and exercising my mind a little whenever I want to know the time).