Sunday
Dortmund
After largely flitting between Hamburg and Berlin, it is time to board the 12.45pm to Dortmund Hauptbahnhof. On arrival Deli, a member of Deutsche Bahn’s assistance team (more on that later), is reliving the previous night, Turkey’s loss to Portugal, which she watched on her phone with colleagues. “Even when Turkey don’t win, they party like they have,” she says. Hungry upon check-in, I go route one: flammkuchen, essentially a German pizza with sour cream, onions and bacon. A few minutes later, Baddiel and Skinner’s Three Lions is playing on the radio in a deserted lobby. It feels a little strange. Is it a sign?
Monday
My morning consists of speaking to Timi Max Elsnik’s former coaches and teammates for a piece on the Slovenia midfielder and, later, after getting back from hearing Robert Lewandowski and N’Golo Kanté talk before France v Poland, I favour watching Scotland’s loss to Hungary over Germany’s draw with the Swiss. A Hungarian plane engineer takes off from his seat to celebrate Kevin Csoboth’s 100th-minute winner, hurtling towards the TV. “In the last minute, guys,” he yells to deflated Scotsmen, who put up a “Bonnie Scotland” banner. The barman rewards him with a beer on the house.
Tuesday
Before king Kylian makes his goalscoring return from a broken nose, it is time to admire the stars of yesteryear at Dortmund’s exhaustive Deutsche Fussball Museum, where colleague – I’ve always wanted to say that – Philipp Lahm is honoured in the hall of fame. From the ashes of Paul the Octopus, who predicted Germany’s matches at the 2010 World Cup, Michael Ballack’s signed ankle plaster cast and Miroslav Klose’s Copa Mundials, it is a wonderful assault on the footballing senses. Oh, and there is an interactive assessing Geoff Hurst’s controversial goal, showing three different angles of the strike and allowing visitors to vote: War der ball hinter der linie? Was the ball over the line?
Wednesday
Gelsenkirchen
According to locals, Gelsenkirchen is Germany’s answer to Leicester and with Georgia taking on Portugal at the AufSchalke Arena I get the chance to sample it. The piercing sun and swathes of supporters means the 302 tram bound for the stadium is like a greenhouse. The sight of Cristiano Ronaldo’s face on the big screens causes quite the commotion – every one of his shots in the warmup is jeered by Georgia’s supporters – but the biggest drama is to come when the lowest-ranked team make it to the last 16 against all odds. “It is the best day in the lives of Georgians,” says Khvicha Kvaratskhelia, a hero in his homeland.
Thursday
Dortmund
After getting back from Gelsenkirchen, via a colourful taxi ride and cancelled train, at 3.20am, a slowish start means a chance to answer the big question: why all the “flying rhino” sculptures around Dortmund? The logo of the Konzerthaus Dortmund features a rhino with wings. Apparently, rhinos’ sensitive hearing talks to the goings-on at a concert hall and the wings symbolise the journey that music can take listeners on. OK, back to the football: William Saliba previews facing Romelu Lukaku in the last 16 and discusses the mood in the French camp.
Friday
It is two weeks since I spent my first full day of the tournament in Wolfsburg’s A&E, an X-ray confirming a toe fracture that has meant I have spent much of my time in Germany on crutches. The doctor, Dietrich, tells me he is a reader of these pages. Well, at least our political coverage of Hungary. A nurse asks for the company address before spending the next few minutes perusing Google images of pictures of Kings Place, aka Guardian Towers, and chuckling at my byline picture. A fortnight on, this Friday is less weird: I venture to Velbert, a town on the hills of Niederberg renowned for producing locks, which is base camp for Georgia, surely the funnest team here. I get back pronto to avoid being caught in the crosshairs of an anti-far-right protest starting at Essen station.
Saturday
By now I have my Dortmund breakfast routine nailed down: pop next door to the supermarket Rewe for a smoothie, two bananas and a pastry of choice. This time last week I was on the receiving end of olés from dozens of pilsner-filled Austria fans as I hobbled up some steps towards a big screen in Berlin. Today is all about the main course, though: Germany coming to town to take on Denmark. It is fair to say staff at the stadium and locals alike are excited about the arrival of Die Mannschaft. I overhear a conversation when one supporter said she has fallen in love with the rose-pink German shirt, the fastest-selling away strip in their history. The true breakout star of the tournament?
