Upon arrival into Munich on Tuesday morning, I could feel the very second that I got off the plane that I had fallen into the assignment of my life. I was first made aware of the World Cup in 1974, when my father had been kind enough to take me to the National Arena in Kingston, Jamaica, to watch games that were being shown on a giant screen. There is no way that he could have known beforehand that he would spark a lifelong dream, that took 22 years until now, eight World Cups later, to fulfill.
The airport was decorated with posters of the World Cup logo, and various other reminders that for the next month, if you are a soccer fan, there is no place on earth that you would rather be than Germany. Lush flat screen televisions adorned the waiting area just outside of customs, and Germans and foreigners alike huddled around them laughing and staring intently at highlights of the previous days' events. The various televisions were tuned to different channels, and it didn't seem to matter - the only thing happening in all of Germany was the 2006 FIFA World Cup.
For me, game one was in Hannover, and it was Mexico versus Angola. It was a game that, on paper, was not supposed to be a very good one, but in the World Cup, anything can happen on any given day. There cannot be many countries in the world that have better fans than Mexico. There were several thousand Mexicans outside the stadium, enjoying the tailgate party of their lives. They were dancing, laughing and waving their flags, displaying a great pride in their country and their team. There were Angolans there also, but they were so far in the minority that they seemed to have no presence at all.
As game time approached, the buzz in the stadium continued to grow. The atmosphere was so electric that I couldn't even hear my broadcast partner without having my headset on, even though we were standing only a foot apart. The Angolans must have felt like they had been dropped right into Mexico City's famous Azteca Stadium.
The Mexicans dominated early, much to the delight of the "home" crowd. As the game went on however, they fell victim to some sloppy play on their part and allowed the Angolans to have some belief in themselves. It was a mistake that would prove costly, as the Black Antelopes, as the Angolans are known, were able to hang on and secure a tie with the fifth- ranked team in the world, the mighty Tricolores of Mexico.
While the Mexican fans were dejected about the result, they wouldn't let it damper their spirits. After a brief period of mourning, the party continued on as the 43,000 in attendance made their way to the exit. Angolans awash with national pride and Mexicans alike continued honking horns, beating drums and waving flags late into the night. Regardless of the result, the spirit of the World Cup prevailed. For both sets of supporters, much like for myself, just being here is an event in and of itself.
The morning after the Mexico/Angola game in Hannover, my broadcast team and I embarked on our journey to Nuremburg to do a game between Japan and Croatia. Upon arrival, we checked into our hotel, and decided to go into Old Town Nuremburg to get something to eat and to watch the all-important U.S.-Italy game. Ghana had just beaten the mighty Czech Republic in Cologne, and in doing so, had turned Group E completely upside down. As we walked into the town, we saw scenes that confirmed to me why the World Cup is the greatest sporting event anywhere.
As far as the eye could see, there were the red and white checked shirts and flags of the Croatians, and/or the blue jerseys and white and red flags of Japan. There were also the Italians in their jerseys walking into town to watch the Italy game on any of several large flat screen televisions set up in public squares. Mixed in with these very visible supporters, were small pockets of Ghanaians, who were very vocal in their support and excitement for their team.
The national pride on display was incredible, matched and bettered only by the unification of all these people of different backgrounds. We saw ecstatic Ghanaians talking, laughing and taking pictures with Croatians, Japanese, and Italians. It was Ghana's first ever win at the World Cup, and not only were they excited, but everyone else was too. To see all these people unify, really out of the love of the game, was phenomenal. Japanese fans and Croatian fans, whose teams were set to meet the next day, were so excited to be at the World Cup that being on different sides tomorrow could do nothing to spoil being on the same side tonight.
That side is the one of soccer lovers who appreciated the World Cup for all that it is: not only the greatest soccer event in the world, but the place where differences in race, religion and nationality don't matter one bit. I don't know if John Lennon had ever been to a World Cup, but surely this must be as close to the world he imagined as there could ever be.
Robin Fraser, a five-time MLS Best XI selection and two-time MLS Defender of the Year, ended his 10-year MLS career and 16-year professional career last October, and now begins his first season with RSL as the team's color television analyst. Born in Kingston, Jamaica, Fraser amassed 27 caps for the U.S. National Team and was drafted fourth overall by the Los Angeles Galaxy in the inaugural MLS draft.
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