G8 Online

First, the Italian national anthem : surely the best in the world. That put us all (particularly myself and Sultoon) in a great mood. This was lucky, as the first half was the worst half of football, in entertainment terms, that I have ever sat through. This was all Italy's fault. They passed it around tediously, stayed down whenever they had the chance, and didn't even seem to be trying to score. The Croatians seemed content not to press them too hard, so we became gradually more and more annoyed. By the half-time whistle, Italy were our most hated team in the tournament.

Our mood at half-time was not improved by our ubiquitous nemesis, the American bloke who'd been sitting behind us. This time he was three or four rows further back (our seats had moved slightly as well), so we thought we'd seen him off. But during half-time he made sure that everybody knew just who he was, by spending literally the entire interval shouting at the top of his loud, camp, American voice : "Hey Mr Cameraman! Look at us! We want to be on TV! We love you Mr Cameraman!" and variations on this theme. A few minutes of this had driven us almost to breaking point.

More and more I was beginning to regret that our late arrival had prevented me from doing the hairspray and face-painting I had planned (red and white quarters in both cases). Italy's boring play was making me feel more and more like a Croatia fan. DV had at least brought some props - a hat given to him by the lovely for the England game, which was slightly embarrassing for an England fan but seemed appropriate somehow when supporting Croatia. He and Fox had also done something of a rush-job of doing their hairspray just before kick-off : Fox had chosen Italian colours, presumably in honour of the fact that he stood to win five hundred quid if they won the tournament (cheese).

So when Italy kicked off the second half and took the lead after fifteen minutes, we could not have been more furious (except possibly Fox). Just before this, the bloke sitting to our right had actually been sleeping, so catatonic was the football on offer. However, Italy sprang to life and Vieri climbed to plant an excellent header across the Croatian keeper. So, final score 1-0 Italy, we presumed. Italy had already had one Vieri header disallowed shortly before they scored, which had been the only real bright spot so far (other than a few runs by the lively Croatian forward Milan Rapaic). Without Suker or Prosinecki playing (which would at least have been value), we felt that we'd wasted our money coming at all.

How happily wrong we were. A moment of slackness by the Italian defence, a cross from the left, and substitute Ivica Olic was there to turn the ball into the net right in front of us! We could hardly believe it - Croatia had hardly had a kick since the early stages, and if they could hold on we would be delighted.

Instead it got even better. Again Italy lost possession, a cross from the right was half cleared, and Rapaic struck a bouncing ball from the edge of the box ...

He had clearly mis-hit it and it seemed to be looping off into the stands, so Fox turned away. But those of us who kept our eyes on the ball were rewarded when it took a bizarre trajectory off the top of his boot and looping over the stranded Buffon into the corner! We were absolutely ecstatic; the Italians looked like they couldn't understand what was going on.

For the last few minutes, Italy produced probably their only good sustained period of attacking football of the entire tournament. With five minutes to go, Totti struck a free-kick from twenty yards out, and it seemed to be curving in to give Italy the equaliser they did (to be fair) deserve ... but no, it struck the inside of the post, and bounced across the goal-line behind the keeper and out. I took this as my cue to stand up with my hands wide apart and shout "aaaaahh", in traditional opposition-baiting fashion.

But there was still time for an equaliser. Materazzi (what was he doing on the pitch??) launched a long straight ball from the centre circle ... it bounced around the edge of the box in a melee of players, the keeper seemed to miss it, Inzaghi and Vieri were nearby and might have got a touch, and it trickled in! Inzaghi wheeled off in celebration ... but Sultoon suddenly cheered up : "It's offside!!"

The Italians were furious, abusing the linesman and ref (in fact, we found out later that the linesman had flagged for pushing by Inzaghi). Graham Poll, who was the official for the day, wasn't having any of it, and we were proud of him. Vieri later said, "Those weren't World Cup referees, those were village referees" - and to be fair, the linesman (one Jens Lehmann) had made the odd blunder, but we did have a much better day for it!

Fireworks exploded again at the final whistle, as Ibaraki stadium closed for the rest of the World Cup. We'd had a good time there, and in the end, despite a long period of great boredom, we'd had probably the highlight of our football-watching tournament so far and couldn't have been happier with the result. So we headed back cheerfully enough, although the less-than-rapid transport still meant that we were only just back for the highlights. Fox, Yuhei and myself decided to take the bus and pay the extra this time, while the others decided they could endure the train; the bus travellers got back first (the trains really were slow) and just about caught some of the highlights of the game we'd just seen. Then we made plans for the next day : visiting the Okada household and watching Japan v Russia. As it turned out, Sunday was going to be amazing value ...

No let-up in the football action : today was to be our last trip to Ibaraki, this time to watch Italy versus Croatia. This had been the game we were least enthusiastic beforehand, but by the time we eventually woke up from the previous night's exertions (around mid-day) we were looking forward to it. Fox announced his plan to go and buy a digital camera before we set off for the match, so he went to meet Yuhei at Akihabara ("Electric Town"). However, Yuhei's punctuality wasn't up to scratch, and by the time we had made it to Akihabara ourselves (the train to Ibaraki also left from there), Fox was still hanging around waiting.

Just then Yuhei did arrive, apologetically late. Feeling that Fox had been stitched up, he suggested they go and get the camera now - it would only take 20 minutes. We agreed to wait.

More than an hour later, we were still waiting. Time was running out if we wanted to get to the match in time : travel would take three hours, then we had to get into the ground. Tempers seemed to be running a little high ... where the hell were they? Yuhei's phone batteries had run out so we couldn't even get in touch.

Eventually the self-sacrificial DV agreed that the rest of us should go on to the match while he waited for the other two, so off we went. The "rapid" service once again proved itself to be anything but rapid, so we got into the ground with just over half an hour to spare before kick-off. Would the others make it?

Fortunately, yes. Only fifteen minutes later, they arrived, having caught the next train. The explanation for Fox and Yuhei's lateness was, essentially, that it just took a long time. However, all had ended well, so we settled back to enjoy the match.