Sunday
Gelsenkirchen
Gelsenkirchen and the day of my first England match at an international tournament since Ronaldinho sent David Seaman on to his backside in Shizuoka 22 years ago (gulp). This game was a degree less noteworthy and, instead, I’ll remember being part of a stream of thousands of fans forced to march four miles in the pouring rain due to a lack of transport from station to stadium. With most still drinking and even more requiring emergency toilet breaks on the side of a dual carriageway we all made it, even the guy who exclaimed in the saddest voice I have heard upon clocking a road sign: “How can it still be 2.5km to go?”
Monday
Essen
After a couple of days in the Ruhr valley town of Essen, it is time to leave. Essen is a quiet, unremarkable place that is still standing after the decline of its coal industry. But like Gelsenkirchen, it’s clearly a world away from the wealth of Munich and Frankfurt. Next to my hotel were the offices of Correctiv, an independent journalistic organisation who report on the far right, the climate crisis, and also football culture.
They published an article at the beginning of June showing how much money host cities had spent on preparing for the tournament and found they had all exceeded their proposed budgets by millions of euros. This is not uncommon in sporting events, but whether Gelsenkirchen, which had forecast a budget of €14.5m to host its four matches but has ended up spending €19m, according to Correctiv, might have better used the money elsewhere is a nagging question.
Tuesday
Frankfurt
Germany’s financial hub boasts a big gaudy statue of the Euro in Willy-Brandt-Platz and men and women in smart suits paired with white trainers are everywhere. There is also a massive open-air drug market that sprawls for blocks outside the central train station. It’s sketchy, no doubt, and on my second afternoon I witness a big brawl in the street among addicts and dealers, while busy Frankfurters carry on their lives around it. The German tabloid Bild ran an article calling it “the station of shame” and the dissonance between the two sides of the city is striking.
Wednesday
On a lighter note, let’s talk bread rolls. Bäckerei is a big deal for Germans and for me too, with my love for carbohydrates something I have sadly had to confront as I’ve grown older. Still, all rules are suspended for the Euros and each morning I am out hunting for a combo of one pastry and one roll with seeds on it. I find the chain Zeit für Brot and I am in heaven, their brioche bun the best I have ever eaten. If only breakfast came three times a day.
Thursday
It’s England 1 Denmark 1 and the less said about that the better. But my experience of the travelling England cohort is an enjoyable one. Yes, they’re drunk and yes, some are singing about German bombers, but there is no confrontation and very few even seeking it. The memory of one man, dressed solely in St George Y-fronts, doing an attempted backwards somersault into Frankfurt’s sombrely titled Fountain of Justice will linger in my dreams.
Friday
Cologne
It’s farewell to Frankfurt and after the obligatory train cancellation and another march through a monsoon I make it to Cologne. This is my kind of place, a little shabby perhaps but full of energy, trees and culture. In the evening, work done, I grant myself the luxury of a glass of Riesling in a wine bar populated by thirtysomethings in beanie hats.
I love it and on the walk back to my hotel see a city out on the street (under awnings in case of the weather) celebrating the weekend and half-watching Poland v Austria. It doesn’t get much better than this, I think to myself.
Saturday
Before Belgium v Romania I make sure to spend time goggling at Cologne’s incredible gothic cathedral. With spires running off into the sky like rockets waiting to launch it is a slightly terrifying monument to the glory of God. But most striking to me was that it took nearly 300 years to build. I can’t think of anything in the modern world that requires the commitment of future generations in a similar way and it certainly puts England’s struggles to win a second international football tournament into perspective.
