Why did I look?

Last night was the engagement celebration meal (is that what it's called?) of a couple of friends of mine. Last night was also the European Championship final. Being the good friend that I am, I of course went to the meal, and had a great time.

It being the evening after I had preached twice, I wasn't really at my coherent best, so apologies to the rest of the company and thanks for putting up with me. This was compounded by my desire to watch the football after the meal without knowing the result. Whilst I was out enjoying all-you-can-eat Mongolian cuisine, my video was recording the game for me*. The meal and the match ended at about the same time, with me pretty much none the wiser.** So far so good, but this actually left me with a dilemma: should I let the video keep running until about 11 just in case there was extra time and penalties? My reasoning was sound: if I knew that the game ended after 90 minutes, it would probably take something of the edge off the last few minutes (seeing as the last-minute Turks were now out). However, one of the guys at the meal wanted to watch the highlights with me but was, understandably, less keen on the 11pm start!

My mistake at this moment was the verbalise my thoughts. I was surrounded by people who weren't really interested in football, and even if there was a football fan's logic to my thoughts, I was incapable of expressing it! I wittered away for a few minutes to the frustration/amusement of all involved. Eventually I found out that the game had finished after 90 minutes, and so set off to walk home. And that's when it happened.

I had just turned round the corner from my friends, having offered another apology for my odd behaviour, when for some reason I glanced through the window of one of the take-aways that proliferate that area. And there was Michael Ballack, Germany's captain. On the TV, you understand. A bit like the photo above, he had his hands on his hips, and was not looking like a man about to receive a trophy. In my head, I tried to reason with myself: perhaps the emotion of winning had overtaken him, it wasn't conclusive evidence of the result, it could still go either way. I continued to tell myself that as I watched the game at home but the longer it went on, the clearer Spain's supremacy appeared, and the more certain I became that I knew the result already. So it proved to be.

There's no moral here, or if there is I'm not going to extrapolate it now. Just expressing my mild irritation!

* Vidoeing football games has proved to be a disaster this tournament: I had the cables connected incorrectly for the Holland-Russia quater-final and the Germany-Turkey semi, both of which were thrillers, apparently.

** This was why I didn't want Italy to reach the final, along with how negatively they played. In Bedford, if Italy are in the final you can't be anywhere near the town centre if you want to avoid finding out the result.