So, Germany lost. Spain won. And, I do have to admit, they deserved it. Germany did not play a good game.
Our group had grown to > 20 people – friends, friends of friends and an assortment of co-workers – a good mixture of German and Spanish allegiances. We all packed into the back corner of Patrick’s, the bar discovered last Saturday.
Much beer was consumed, plans for the final on Sunday solidified and (German) nerves were completely fried. I would not be surprised if some hearts were broken, but they would never let on – they have that frosty German exterior to maintain.
Although the team I was cheering on will not advance, the good thing about Spain clearing its way to the final is that I can now cheer for my secret crush – Fernando Torres – without any guilt or shame. Not that I have much of that anyways.