Mother Russia

I woke up at 4:30 PM on Sunday. Even as a student I never woke up at 4:30 in the afternoon. I had slept for 13 hours. The morning, or rather the afternoon, after the night before. Incredible; mind blowing; intense. A set of circumstances unlikely to recur in football. Russia, the most under of underdogs, in the World Cup quarterfinal in their own country. I’ve heard Flower of Scotland at Hampden. Land of Our Fathers at Millenium Stadium, God Save The Queen at Wembley and The Star Spangled Banner over the US. They paled against this.

Intense national pride from the Russians. With the emphasis on Pride. As a westerner you might be concerned that it would deteriorate into Nationalism. But no. At no time, even with such cruel elimination, were the Russians other than gracious and courteous, even in defeat.

At such events, the journey is almost as big as the game. An hour train ride to the stadium with Russians and Croatians swapping songs. A Scotland England train might not have been so chummy, but this was all good natured.

I didn’t know that Sochi is home to the Russian F1 GP. We walked behind the F1 grandstand to the Doppler of high performance machines and pit stoped under the umbrella of a makeshift bar to watch Sweden:England. Russians, Mongolians and Mexicans; even here it was ABE! LOL. More, much more, later, but I’m wondering where all the Engerland fans are. Its the World Cup. We’ve met many nationalities but England fans are more rare than Glasgow Rangers.

And then, rounding the corner, the stadium appears. Stunningly beautiful against the setting sun, the venue of the 2014 Winter Olympic opening ceremony. Beautiful architecture and stunningly efficient. But on this occasion designed to intimidate. We entered early to soak in the atmosphere. Not yet half full, with patriotic Russian songs blaring, the noise was deafening. We were sucked in immediately! I guess professional players prepare a lifetime for this, but I can’t imagine how they can focus in this.

What a game! I mean WHAT a game. It had everything. Surprisingly the Russian didn’t park the bus as they did against Spain. But then Croatia didn’t dominate possession the same as Spain so maybe not so surprising. The Russian’s came out punching and the game opened up. Modric played much deeper than usual to begin with. But from inside the stadium you could appreciate his role as Croatia’s quarterback. He controlled their game. Great to watch how players like him make it look so easy. But then Russia broke through. Great goal. Lovey touch from the center forward to Cheryshev who blasted from 20 yards. From our angle we had a perfect view of the bulging onion bag. The crowd went crazy! And pretty much stayed crazy till the end. Modric took control in the second half and walked Croatia up the park. It was Russian heart against Croatian mind.. Brilliant. But by the time Mario Fernandes (are we really sure he’s really Russian?) scored in the 115th minute to take the game to penalties, I was pure Ruski. It was impossible not to be sucked in. The crowd around us were beside themselves. Never seen anything like it [maybe, just maybe, Scotland beating Czechoslovakia at Hampden in ’73 to reach the World Cup finals came close. But I was 12 so who knows!].

no good way to decide a game like this. Personally I’d have let them battle on, literally, to the death. It was that good. But, well, I guess TV schedules have to be considered. So penalties! I’d never seen a penalty shoot out live but, while its tense, great theater, the atmosphere in the stadium evaporated. It is a crap shoot, players cant really prepare for this. Some make it look easy. Some, like Russia’s late goal hero, Fernandes, crumble and shank it wide. In the end, for Russia, it was over. The crowd roared in appreciation one last time; both teams took their bows; small boys and grown men cried. It was, by some large measure, and in every sense, the most incredible sporting event I have ever seen.

Walking back to the train, we tried to imagine if we would ever again see a game like this? Could these circumstances ever happen again. And, yes, it is possible. Imagine USA, likely still an under dog, reaching the quarter or semi finals in 2026 in America (on July 4th as it may well be). Now that would be something, if, by then, America learns to care about football as much as the rest of the world. We’ll see.

It took two hours to get back to the hotel. The train was subdued. Most dozing on and off. But still the Russians wanted to talk. We’re just realizing that, as Americans, we are, in fact, a novelty, and folks are interested in a chat and a photo opportunity. Alex, a military policeman who’d taken the 10 hour train ride from Rostov with his mother Yulia, insisted on keeping me awake to talk! We happily obliged. Yulia gave me a doll 🙂

I finally fell, collapsed, into bed, at 3:30 AM mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. I’ll set the alarm tomorrow. Our flight to St. Petersburg is at 2:45 PM