THURSDAY, JUNE 20–It is National Day at the embassy of Luxembourg. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. For those of you who may not know, Luxembourg is a country less than a thousand square miles in area (slightly smaller than Rhode Island) with a population of roughly 440,000. It’s wedged in between Germany, Belgium, and France. And yet despite the nation’s smallness, its embassy in Washington is downright palatial, with high ceilings, oversized mirrors, stone columns, and crystal chandeliers. Plus, an oil painting of past and present royalty in every room–Luxembourg is a Grand Duchy (much like the Kingdom of Zamunda) and its “chief of state” is a grand duke.
Besides the posh surroundings, it had an impressive food spread: An array of delicate hors d’oeuvres, pleasing to both the eyes and the taste-buds. I immediately went for the demitasse of chilled pea soup with a dollop of sour cream and pinch of caviar. Next came succulent shrimp that passed the fresh test with flying colors: You could pluck it whole from its shell without any of it breaking off. And there were soft and crumbly pastries too, each concealing a mild cheese filling, and cantaloupe scoops wrapped in prosciutto and resting on toast points–this was rather problematic as prosciutto is quite difficult to tear apart with teeth and I ended up inhaling the snack in one enormous mouthful. But before I could sample more of this exquisite Luxembourg cuisine, I needed to find out what really matters: Who were the diplomats rooting for in tomorrow’s World Cup match, the United States or Germany?
The ambassador of Luxembourg, Her Excellency Arlette Conzemius Paccoud, is the epitome of grand European elegance. She’s soft-spoken, refined, ever-gracious, and as such, I decided not to bother her with my question. Her husband, on the other hand, is rather gregarious when it comes to “football” and he was more than happy to share his thoughts: “Between the U.S. and Germany, I am rooting for Germany!” says Mr. Thierry Paccoud without any hint of reservation. “It’s not that I don’t like the Americans, mind you. I think they’re great. But they have no experience.”
I chat with another ambassador and ask him the same question. He leans over and whispers gingerly, “I’m rooting for the U.S.” “I know our countries are both in the E.U.,” he went on, “but I’m hoping for America to win.” So as to avoid a diplomatic imbroglio, the ambassador will remain nameless. (On an unrelated note, have I ever mentioned that Denmark is a wonderful country and a dependable ally of the United States?)
And then there’s Christoph Meran, press director of the Austrian embassy (and an accomplished concert pianist). When I ask him who he’s supporting, he gives me a look of assurance, a thumbs up, and says, “the United States. Oh, no doubt about it.” I ask him if this is on-the-record, lest I provoke an international incident between two countries with somewhat entangled histories. Meran nods enthusiastically. But then adds, “I love the Germans, don’t get me wrong. But not in the World Cup! Besides, we are guests in this country.”
Before leaving, but after sampling a creme brulee that was truly egg-ceptional and popping a couple (five) chocolate eclairs in my mouth, I stopped to thank Paul Schmit, Luxembourg’s affable deputy chief of mission. I ask him who he’s going to support. “Sorry, I’m not following the World Cup,” he says, with a sheepish smile. (It’s a diplomatic answer with an all-too-familiar ending: Sure, stay neutral now. But when you’re in trouble, you’ll wish you rooted for us!)
I left fully sated, yet still wondering: Who do you think the French are pulling for?
FRIDAY, JUNE 21–With undaunted courage, I have decided to watch the U.S.-Germany soccer match at the German embassy. (Cue the Imperial March.) That’s right, I’m going straight into the lion’s den. I arrive at 7 a.m. (sharp!) to partake in a hearty German breakfast (which I’ve described on an earlier occasion). Half an hour before kickoff, the line to get into the compound is already down the block. Security is tight as the guests are frisked and purses and briefcases are carefully examined. Walking into the auditorium there are hand-sized flags and lapel pins, both German and American, free for the taking. Inside is a big-screen and the flags of both countries hang prominently. But as I look around, I notice there is a decidedly American feel to the breakfast–in fact, of the 300 guests invited, more than 250 are from the United States.
What is decidedly German, however, is the breakfast, catered by the local Heidelberg Pastry Shoppe. And what a German breakfast it is: Smoked Gouda or thick slices of ham, both lusciously slathered in a buttercream and stuffed in multigrain rolls. There were also sweet pastries and bagels with cream cheese by the tray-load. I eagerly grabbed my sandwiches and headed for my seat. In no time, the auditorium was standing room only. At 7:25, the always convivial Eberhard Koelsch, Germany’s deputy chief of mission, opened the game, saying, “May the best team win!” Cheers all around.
From the outset the match was tense. The United States–who’s just happy to be here–has nothing to lose. Three-time World Cup champion Germany, on the other hand, must win. For them, there is no other option. “It’s all we have,” says Dieter Dettke of the Friedrich Ebert Foundation. “It’s what we respect the most in our country, more than the army, more than anything.” He adds that when it comes to soccer, “there is no civility.”
Yet during the match, it is the Americans yelling, screaming, and jumping up and down. The Germans, perhaps because they are outnumbered, are less boisterous–until coach Rudi Voller appears on screen, at which point the Germans cry out, “Ruudiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!”
Behind me are four U.S. naval officers. “We’re okay. We survived the first five minutes,” says one captain. But as play continues, the missed opportunities by the Americans become more and more frustrating. “Landon Donovan is useless!” says one of the officers. Quips another, “Kobe Jones hasn’t done a thing this whole tournament! He has no game!” Some felt the same way about Clint Mathis. Conspiracies are floated. Former Weekly Standard writer Matthew Rees, now at the National Security Council, points out that “there is a serious conflict of interest. The Germans are wearing Adidas. So are the refs.” I grimly contemplate the implications.
(There’s only one awkward moment, when the ESPN commentators make reference to one of the German players having the nickname of “the little kaiser.” Are we supposed to laugh? Are kaiser jokes back in again?)
In the 39th minute, Germany’s Michael Ballack scores the first and only goal. And from the handful of Germans in attendance, the sound of a thousand fans erupts. Harmonicas blare and cowbells ring. One woman stands up, unfurls a German flag, and starts waving it.
Soccer is a dirty game and this match was rife with shirt tugging, tripping, and shoving. On both sides. And with the instant replays, you could hear the guffaws and see the eyerolling. In response to one travesty, I call out, “Riot! Riot!” Sadly, no rampage ensues.
Halftime is a mob scene, with Germans and Americans mulling about and prognosticating. I ask Minister Koelsch who he thinks is going to win. “The better team, of course,” he replies slyly, but then says, “the Americans have already won. Soccer is now a more popular sport than ever in your country. Besides that, your women’s team won before, so let our men’s team win!”
The second half is more trying than the first. Near the end of regulation, it looks like the Americans have finally scored a goal. We all leap out of our seats and start hugging and screaming. Prematurely, the header is wide–it was just a bad camera angle. In the end, the Germans are victorious, 1-nil. But it was no piece of Torte for them. (But for a controversial no-call when a ball bounced off a German player’s arm on their goal line . . .) And at the very least, the Americans were not pummeled like the Saudis (who lost to Germany 8-0). The problem is, the Germans are more experienced and much larger. And they have super-freak goalkeeper Oliver Kahn.
“It was a wonderful match,” says Captain Szyszka of the United States Navy. Beside him stands Captain Lutz Helmrich of the German Navy. “We (Germans) were just lucky,” he says graciously. “You played a great game but in the end, we just lucked out.”
Four years down the line, I hope it’s the Americans who are bigger, stronger, and more experienced. And maybe, just maybe, those Luxembourgers will be rooting for us.
Victorino Matus is an assistant managing editor at The Weekly Standard.
