IT'S often said that to fully appreciate ectasy (the feeling as opposed to the drug), you first have to go through some form of agony.
Australian soccer fans will now all about this. Since the national team, known as the Socceroos, last qualified for the World Cup, they have put their fans and themselves through every range of emotion. Their plight has been well-documented, but it's worth repeating again: losing thanks to an own goal in a playoff against Argentina in 1993; leading 2-0 with about 10 minutes to go against Iran, only for them score twice and go through on away goals; and finally winning the first game against Uruguay in 2001 1-0, only to lose the return 3-0.
It's been a ride nto many would particularly care for.
So last night when Uruguay peppered the Australian goal early in the match, many had the feeling of "oh no, not again."
But it didn't happen again.
First Marco Bresciano ensured he'd become a household name by scoring twoards the end of the first half, giving Australia a 1-0 lead, and more importantly levelling the two-match series 1-1.
Try though they might, Australia could not break through for a second, decisive goal. This just upped the pressure, as any Uruguayan goal meant Australia would have to score twice more because of the away goals rule (away goals count for double if the aggregates are tied).
Time passed slowly. One English gent (the upgrade of the century, truth be told) reckoned that Australia would score in the 89th minute. That came and went, and we were into extra time, where again Australia just couldn't get the goal.
Full-time extra time. Time for a penalty shootout: surely the ultimate indignity, as it was about the only way we hadn't been knocked out at this point.
The crowd at the pub cheered madly when Harry Kewell scored the first for Australia, and even louder when Mark Schwarzer saved Uruguay's first attempt. The cheering continued when Tony Vidmar converted his shot, only for a hush to come over the room when Uruguay kicked their next goal.
Mark Viduka is one of the better strikers in the English Premier League, so when he strode up most were confident; a confidence misplaced when he produced a kick so soft and flaccid it needed Viagra to get up. Fortunately Schwarzer again came to the party with a brilliant save, so if John Aloisi kicked his, Australia were through.
Aloisi ran in...
And kicked it.
People around the country (actually, I'm only assuming this; the crowd at the pub certainly did) went nuts. After 32 years, with more heartache than a collection of country and western songs, Australia were through.
As you may have guessed, I enjoyed watching this. It certainly made for a better mood than earlier in the day, when someone you'd think would know better cut me off based on misinformation. I've not idea if he read my reply, but it's a sad world when someone accuses you of doing something when they know it's a lie; and even sadder when others believe it.
C'est la vie. I've no time for liars or hypocrites.
I'm too busy celebrating life and the soccer.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Sunday, November 13, 2005
I Was Born A Rambling Man...
THIS year my life seems to revolve around hostels; ironic really when you consider that at the start of the year I was staying in a town (Cooma) that no longer had hostels (or if they do I've no idea where).
During the course of my travels since May I've stayed in hostels or dirt-cheap hotels in London, Paris, Brugge, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague (although that was a cheap add-on to an otherwise expensive hotel), Vienna, Budapest, Munich, Nice, Barcelona, Madrid, Lisbon, Bordeaux, Edinburgh, Inverness, Dublin, Galway, Kilkenny and Port Douglas.
There were also camping grounds (much like caravan parks here in Australia) in Venice, Rome and Florence, and apartments in Cinque Terre and Lagos.
Some of these were brilliant, although given they are cheap accommodation, you can generally find fault anywhere you stay. For example, Berlin's City Stay hostel was brilliant: except that the lights in the showers went off if you didn't keep moving around, and you had to hold the tap in to keep the water going. Those of us who enjoy standing under a hot shower often had to jump around waving our arms while trying to keep the stupid button pressed in, which is no mean feat when you're hungover.
The really, really good hostels will have some kind of entertainment with cheap drinks available. The Generator in London was good for this: 1 pound pints for three hours, by which time you'd got a taste and forgotten you were trying not to spend so much money. You could also win booze for doing silly things, including singing karaoke, pole-dancing, and on one memorable occasion, dancing in a g-string (think tall, strange man).
Rome was alright, although their efforts to make money from the bar were thwarted by a combination of high prices and the fact people were allowed to bring in their own opened beer bottles, which were available across the road at 1 euro a piece.
But by far the greatest "entertainment" in a dorm comes when a young couple begins coupling.
You'll be lying in bed, trying to mind your own business, when all of a sudden you hear what sounds like a cow chewing on gum.
Then the bed might start to shake or squeak, followed by the inevitable short, sharp breaths. If the couple is drunk, these may be loud enough to wake the whole dorm up and allow them to share the experience.
Of course, if you really need to sleep there are a few options. The one I used best was to turn on the iPod and listen to music, while others try the pillow-over-the-head trick.
If these don't work (ie the bed/floor is shaking), then all you can do is grin and bear it, and give the offending couple a knowing look first thing in the morning.
That or throw a cold cup of water over them mid-stroke.
What's your best travel story? Post them below; be warned they may be taken off if too rude/crude/prude. It can be about anything you like, although I'd prefer it if you didn't mention that one time, on band camp...
During the course of my travels since May I've stayed in hostels or dirt-cheap hotels in London, Paris, Brugge, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague (although that was a cheap add-on to an otherwise expensive hotel), Vienna, Budapest, Munich, Nice, Barcelona, Madrid, Lisbon, Bordeaux, Edinburgh, Inverness, Dublin, Galway, Kilkenny and Port Douglas.
There were also camping grounds (much like caravan parks here in Australia) in Venice, Rome and Florence, and apartments in Cinque Terre and Lagos.
Some of these were brilliant, although given they are cheap accommodation, you can generally find fault anywhere you stay. For example, Berlin's City Stay hostel was brilliant: except that the lights in the showers went off if you didn't keep moving around, and you had to hold the tap in to keep the water going. Those of us who enjoy standing under a hot shower often had to jump around waving our arms while trying to keep the stupid button pressed in, which is no mean feat when you're hungover.
The really, really good hostels will have some kind of entertainment with cheap drinks available. The Generator in London was good for this: 1 pound pints for three hours, by which time you'd got a taste and forgotten you were trying not to spend so much money. You could also win booze for doing silly things, including singing karaoke, pole-dancing, and on one memorable occasion, dancing in a g-string (think tall, strange man).
Rome was alright, although their efforts to make money from the bar were thwarted by a combination of high prices and the fact people were allowed to bring in their own opened beer bottles, which were available across the road at 1 euro a piece.
But by far the greatest "entertainment" in a dorm comes when a young couple begins coupling.
You'll be lying in bed, trying to mind your own business, when all of a sudden you hear what sounds like a cow chewing on gum.
Then the bed might start to shake or squeak, followed by the inevitable short, sharp breaths. If the couple is drunk, these may be loud enough to wake the whole dorm up and allow them to share the experience.
Of course, if you really need to sleep there are a few options. The one I used best was to turn on the iPod and listen to music, while others try the pillow-over-the-head trick.
If these don't work (ie the bed/floor is shaking), then all you can do is grin and bear it, and give the offending couple a knowing look first thing in the morning.
That or throw a cold cup of water over them mid-stroke.
What's your best travel story? Post them below; be warned they may be taken off if too rude/crude/prude. It can be about anything you like, although I'd prefer it if you didn't mention that one time, on band camp...
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