It was intense. The Spartak Stadium was filled with a sea of yellow-shirted Colombian fans and what seemed like only a few thousand England supporters in small pockets around the stadium. The noise of the Colombian passionate singing was okay but once the game kicked-off and the jeering & whistling started, it was both deafening and intimidating and drowned out any noise the small number England fans could make.
The game was a dirty one, the South Americans playing a style of football we don't see very often in the modern era. There were some crunching tackles, punches, pulling and pushing, but England kept their composure and pushed on. England scored first from a penalty putting us into rapture and the Colombians around us incensed and even louder in their booing and hissing, but as time ticked on toward the final whistle, the pressure started to build and England started to wilt a little. We reached 5 minutes of injury time and surely nothing was going to stop England clinging on to this important win this late in the game... A last-minute corner for Colombia led to a desperate header hitting the ground right in front of where we were standing, and bouncing up and over the despairing keeper & defender and creeping into the goal.
FFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK.....!!!
By now I was thinking that this was only going to end one way, just like it had so many times before for England, we would play 30 minutes of extra time, and then get beaten on penalties, the most inglorious way of losing and being dispatched from a tournament. I watched the first 15 minutes of extra time with a deepening sense of dread, as the Colombians were all over of us, the England team looked all out of ideas and dead on their feet. The 2nd half of extra time was a little better with England threatening to steal the game at the death, but each attempt, each half chance, each shot, each limp effort to get that ball into the back of their net just seem to either head off over the bar or trickle achingly just past the post. And then the final whistle blew full time and it was upon us, penalties.
I have a history with watching England penalties shoot-outs, in the early days I would watch in hope as England let themselves down badly time & time again, so I started not watching them as it became increasingly more painful, so I don’t think I have actually watched an England penalty shoot-out for 20 years, and this time was going to be the same. As the Colombian players walked up to the spot, I would watch their efforts in hope that the England goalkeeper would make a brave save, but when it came to one of our players taking a penalty, I simply turned my back on the action, muttered, “come on England, score”, under my breath repeatedly and with increasing urgency in my voice, and watch the sea of Colombian fans behind me for their reaction. On the 3rd penalty for England, I watched the exquisite joy and excitement in the eyes of the Colombian fans as England had one of the penalties saved and I thought for a final time, “Here we go again”....
The next penalty stunned the Colombian reaction into a surreal momentary silence as their player missed the goal and hit the bar, and I instantly recognised the look of fear and worry in their fans eyes, thinking that they surely couldn’t lose it from here, could they..? I still couldn’t watch the next England penalty, and with my back turned, I could again see increasing disappointment in the Colombian faces around me as England scored again. It was now 3 penalties each, with one more for each team to be taken and any mistakes from here on would spell disaster for either team. The 5th Colombian penalty taker stepped up, shot well towards the right-hand side of the goal but the English keeper reached out his hand and swatted the ball out of harm’s way. With one penalty left, if the England player could put
I was drained both physically & emotionally, but I had a smile-a- mile-wide and endlessly sang my heart out singing “Football's Coming Home”, I wanted to savour this historic moment for all it was worth. I did not want to leave the ground, I wanted to hear the small group of England fans at the far end of the stadium singing, and even after the bulk of the defeated Colombian fans had left their seats, and Yates and his family had gone, I wanted to eke out a few final moments to enjoy the atmosphere. What a night....
I wish I had taken more photo's or even some video of the key moments of the game, but I was too wrapped up in the heat of the moment to think of doing anything as prescient.
I have only just now watched the penalties on YouTube 2 days after the event, don't know what all the fuss was about... ;-)
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