I reached 15 minutes before the game but it was probably 15 minutes too late. Not just were the bar stools (my favorite vantage point) gone but every single table was occupied. The bartender thankfully remembered me from the previous week and offered to find me a place.
“Anywhere” I said in desperation as I watched the two teams walk out.
The two gentlemen were kind enough to let me join them at their table and I tried to be as non interfering as possible by turning my back on them and squeezing myself out of their view. Tonight was going to be about football and my eyes were glued to the screen. The ears though were a different story.
“Inter” said the Italian behind me.
“I don’t think so” said the Englishman next to him. “Bayern are playing the more attacking football. They are definitely going to score. Inter just holds back and it’s not going to work”
“This Inter team does not play the classical Italian game” retorted the Italian. “They attack too. Counter attack! They beat Barcelona Chelsea
“Fair point Mr. Italy
I heard faint grumbling every time there was a hard “challenge” during the course of the first half and then after watching a delightful run down the wings by Robben the Englishman could not hold himself back around the 54th minute.
“Who is playing the better football? Who is playing the beautiful football??”
The reply was curt. “1-0 Inter?? What are you talking about?”
I held my chuckle at the Italian’s reply but I ain’t interfering. No I ain’t. Tonight was going to be about football.
“No but that’s not beautiful football…”. More grumbling.
At the end of the game (and two large pints) I couldn’t help but …interfere. I turned around, mumbled something about it being a good game and as soon as I drew a smile from the Englishman I innocuously asked “Are you by any chance from London
A pause and a reluctant grin later “Yes!! That is very perceptive. How did you know??”
