Category Archives: Features

The football match that was more like a night at the opera

Posted on by
Reply

When Richard Fleming travelled to North Korea he almost started a diplomatic incident because he could not pay his five-star bill for his one-star hotel…

EXPENSES – a word to strike fear in football writers during these times of recession with sports desks eager to cut costs wherever they can. No more flying at the sharp end of a plane, go over £25 for dinner at your peril and any wine is vino plonko.

When Richard Fleming went to Pyongyang, capital of North Korea which is rated 199th out of 276 cities in the cost of living index, the amount of spending money he should have needed was hardly likely to have the BBC accounts department reaching for their worry beads.

Wrong. In a country where stories of people having to eat grass or the bark of trees are common, Fleming’s week-long trip proved to be so expensive it almost caused a diplomatic incident. Welcome to the world of the most secretive nation on the planet.

Fleming travelled to Pyongyang to cover a 2006 World Cup qualifying tie between North Korea and Bahrain. FIFA regulations stipulate that the media must be allowed in to cover the game and representing the World Service, Fleming obtained a visa. “I was the first sports journalist from the BBC inside North Korea,” said Fleming with mixed pride.

Football-wise North Korea will forever be remembered as the team that beat Italy 1-0 at Middlesbrough in the 1966 World Cup finals, Pak Doo-Ik scoring the goal that makes him his country’s most famous sportsman ahead, even, of Kim Jong-il, the Dear Leader who shot an amazing 11 holes in one in 1994 to achieve an unprecedented 38-under par round on a regulation 18-hole golf course at his first attempt at golf. Not a single person in North Korea doubted this.

Fleming flew to Pyongyang via Beijing, the last leg of the flight on Air Koryo, the national airline of North Korea. “Ours was the only plane on the runway when we landed,” said Fleming. “Passengers walked to the terminal building which was like something out of a James Bond movie. It was cold, grey and absolutely emotionless.

“There was someone with a BBC sign waiting to greet me. I knew it was going to be a bumpy ride when three people picked me up from the airport, a driver and two National Olympic Committee members.

“The match was on a Thursday and I arrived the previous Saturday. The rest of the travelling media didn’t turn up until Tuesday so for the first three days I was the only member of the press in the hotel which probably housed around 500 guests.

“The main problem I had was that I did not know the cost of the hotel or food, there was no way of finding out. In terms of being able to budget for the trip, it was virtually impossible.”

Estimating for a worst case scenario Fleming doubled what he thought his week in Pyongyang would cost.

He said: “You have to pay in hard currency, no credit cards, and I took dollars. On the Monday or Tuesday there were some questions being asked about my bill. One of my minders, because that’s what they were, came to me and said: ‘Mr Richard, we have to sort your bill out.’

“I told him ‘no problems’ and he would then change the subject. When it came to the Thursday, the day of the match but two days before I was due to leave, the minder said: ‘We need to sort out your bill but first you must pay for your accreditation.’”

That, he was told, would be £500. Yes, £500.

The accreditation cost, which the media are never charged for, was in fact to help offset Fleming’s bill. “The final cost of £2,000 was three times what I’d expected. And remember I’d doubled the estimate. The hotel was basic, with stodgy meals comprising dumplings and potatoes.”

The bug in the room so the person listening to Fleming’s phone calls came at no extra charge,
Not only did Fleming have a huge bill, he also had a big problem. He did not have sufficient funds to cover the extortionate cost of staying in what was, at best, a hostel charging five-star hotel prices.

Fortunately Fleming had arranged a meal with the British Ambassador, David Slinn, plus the nine surviving members of the North Korea 1966 World Cup squad. Fleming’s minders, who never allowed him to leave the hotel alone – drove him to the embassy compound.

“A guard with a semi-automatic rifle came over to the car, the window was lowered and one of the so-called members of the National Olympic Committee opened his jacket and showed a badge at which point the guard stepped back and we were allowed through. It was obvious these guys were secret service.”

Fleming’s concern was that if he could not pay his bill he would not be allowed out of the country

“When I met Slinn the first thing I said was: ‘I have a problem.’ He said: ‘I know, let’s go and have a drink.’ And he handed me a Boddingtons.”

As you do in Pyongyang.

“I asked Slinn if he was in a position to help me get out of Pyongyang. He asked me how much we were talking about, he went to his personal safe and came back with the money. This goes against what ambassadors overseas are advised to do. If a Briton abroad has his cash stolen the embassy support would normally take them to an ATM but that was impossible in Pyongyang.”

The financial crisis seemingly averted, Fleming sat down for dinner and through an interpreter chatted to the players, last seen wearing the North Korea shirt but who were now in Army uniforms.

“They were all given high-powered positions within various state-owned companies. I spoke to Pak Doo-ik at great length and he still has very fond memories of his time in the north-east. They still have their shirts and some they swapped with other players. They remember the warmth of the Middlesbrough people and their broad smiles when they recalled Ayresome Park made it obvious how much it still means to them.

“He is not really aware of his world fame because superstars do not exist in North Korea, apart from the Great Leader and his son [Kim Jong-il].

“One of the things they could not get their heads around was the money footballers make these days. They had recently returned to Middlesbrough for a TV documentary, The Day Of Their Life. When it was shown to the players it was censored despite being non-political and extremely positive about the country.”

Match day was another grey day. “The national stadium was soulless, packed to the rafters but with little or no atmosphere, no scarves, no songs…it was colourless. The spectators would clap at the right times, it was almost like being at the opera.”

There wasn’t much too much to clap as Bahrain won 2-1.

Fleming looks back on Pyongyang with frustration, mainly because of the restrictions placed on him. Wherever he went a minder would follow, even when he went to the toilet which was darkened because of power cuts.

“They obviously became jittery leaving me alone. As I stood at the urinal, the next thing I knew a minder was on my shoulder with a lighter. ‘You can see now Mr Richard,’ he said.

“I was taken to various places, always under supervision. I went to their equivalent of Hollywood with a film set they thought depicted Western Europe. It was like something from the Sound Of Music. Their US city was more like Havana, they were just trapped in a time-warp.

“The Great Leader was a massive film buff and would often turn up at the studio and take over the directing for an hour.

“When I went to the mausoleum where Kim Il-song lays in state it was incredible. Once a year North Korean people must go to pay their respects…there was a kind of conveyor belt ferrying people along and not one would make eye contact with me. The fear factor is terrifying.

“They had five or six television channels, all but one in Korean. I remember the newsreader on one channel always shouted the news. I could also access a very grainy BBC World until mid-way through the trip when it was scrambled. It was only when I returned to the UK the penny dropped. It was because Condoleeza Rice, the US secretary of state, was visiting South Korea.

“I was not allowed to bring in a mobile phone or lap-top so I had no form of communication with the outside world. The landline in my room was bugged. I had in effect no contact with anyone outside of North Korea. I was completely unaware of what was happening elsewhere.

“Of course for most North Koreans it’s been that way all their lives. Their history books run along different lines to the rest of the world. In 1945 their belief is that Kim Il-sung and his band of merry men, like a sort of A-Team, ousted the Japanese from North Korea. “

The bill was eventually paid, its inflated price including the cost of his three minders’ salary for the week, their leather jackets and Armani glasses not in keeping with the attire of most North Koreans.

Fleming said: “It was a fascinating if worrying insight into how an entire nation can be brainwashed and remain so isolated from the outside world. Sport is supposed to unite the divide but the coach of North Korea’s 2010 World Cup side was punished for the team’s poor performances in South Africa. He was last heard of breaking rocks.”

And not in the hot sun.

My Week: Simon Brotherton

Posted on by
1

BBC commentator SIMON BROTHERTON on the joy of six in Poland…Brighty’s Crystal Palace ice cream…and Adam’s red face

Monday June 18
Days like this one feel like Christmas morning to me. The World and defending European Champions Spain are on the menu tonight in a much anticipated encounter with Luca Modric and his Croatian colleagues. I’m genuinely excited at the prospect. Any day I’m going to see Xavi play leaves me with an extra spring in my step.

Big live football matches don’t come around very often on BBC Television these days, so when they do and it’s your game as well, you really hope it’s a decent one. Both for the audience’s enjoyment and your own purposes, because obviously it’s much easier to commentate on a free-flowing game of skill with a fair sprinkling of goalmouth activity, than it is to talk your way through a morass of half paced mediocrity.

So thanks for nothing Spain and Croatia. I couldn’t understand why the Spanish were so half-arsed when they were only a kick away from going home like the Russians only a few days before. Now, if Ivan Rakitic had scored with that glorious headed chance in the second half, it would have been interesting. But he didn’t and for long periods it looked like a training session. At least they were true to their word of not playing for a 2-2 draw. Nearly nine million people tuned in. It wasn’t one of the great nights for them or me.

Tuesday June 19
At every match I’ve bumped into bleary eyed colleagues with tales of trains at 1am or flights at the crack of dawn. We’ve merely had a few trips along a strip of motorway resembling the M6 toll road. All of my games have been in either Warsaw, Poznan or Gdansk. No journey longer than four and a half hours. Six group games, all by car. Dodged one there I reckon.

It’s the last day of the group stage but as the night’s games are in Ukraine, we have a first day off in Gdansk and Team Brotherton decide the best way to spend it is by taking a group bike ride to the coastal spa resort of Sopot. We take a detour through the famous shipyards, the cranes still silhouetted against the sky though mostly out of use now, and climb off to peruse the iconic photos in the Solidarity museum.

There’s more history as we stop by the water at Westerplatte, the scene of the first shots fired in the Second World War. Then we get to the beach where Brighty buys an ice cream in Crystal Palace colours which keeps him amused for a good 10 minutes.

Adam, our engineer, has somehow managed to go as red as a beetroot during our leisurely 15km ride from the old town of Gdansk to the sea. Some SOS aftersun cream is procured which he slaps on while we wait for food to arrive at the restaurant. His has the reddest face I’ve ever seen and he looks as though he could internally combust at any minute.

Wednesday June 20
The news is good for us today from the powers that be in the IBC in Warsaw. We are staying where we are, to cover the Germany v Greece quarter-final on Friday evening. Great, I haven’t seen Germany in the flesh yet and am keen to see the team I’ve tipped to win the whole thing. The bonus is that we’re still in town for Uefa’s entertainment offering , which turns out to be the biggest bargain of the whole Euro’s. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds play the fan zone in Gdansk and the tickets didn’t cost a bean. It’s funny how nobody ever seems to vote for us at the Eurovision Song Contest but when Europe needs some decent music, they know where to look. “Are there any Irish people out there?” says Noel early on as a few stragglers from the emerald isle cheer, “What the bloody hell are you lot still doing here!” The rain showers stay away and Adam the engineer reliably informs me the sound is top notch. He’s a big guitar man and I’m pleased he’s happy with the levels, but he’s still got a very red face. Brilliant night out.

Thursday June 21
When the sun’s out, old town Gdansk has weekend break written all over it. When it’s raining, the best you can say it’s no hardship to stay indoors and do some commentary notes. Call me fair-weather but I’m not going out running in this. Goodbye pavement, hello treadmill.

We head to the Amber Arena for Germany’s press conference on the off chance someone says something interesting. Radio colleague Phil Wye has hot footed it from the airport and walks in looking like a deep sea trawler man. His waterproof tested to the limit by the Baltic rain, his glasses needing wipers. The lack of spoken English won’t help his cause here either. At least you can put subtitles on the telly.

Germany are glad to be playing their quarter-final near their base and coach Joachim Loew says they’re happy to be playing what feels like at home again. Given the city’s history, which includes periods of German rule, I’m not surprised, though I know I’m mischievously reading more into it than he meant.

Manuel Neuer is asked several times about the prospect of a penalty shootout. He answers as best he can for someone who recently lost a Champions League Final on spot-kicks, but I’ll eat my hat if it goes that far tomorrow. I think he feels the same but can’t say so.

We are into the habit of only eating where we can book a table with a television view in the evenings. The producer, Graham, has excelled himself this time. We are right in front of a pull-down screen that shows Ronaldo in all his strutting glory. It’s an interesting waterfront restaurant that specializes in sea food, has gold painted trees with plastic lemons hanging down, a python in a glass covered pit under one of the tables and a galleon parked outside that makes it look like Captain Pugwash has popped in for his dinner.

I am distracted by the size of Adam’s enormous dessert and in that precise moment miss the goal. By the way, he’s not quite as red today.

Friday June 22
We are greeted by a different type of rain today. Rather than just bucketing down old style, it’s more of a murky drizzle, deceptive in that it doesn’t look so bad, but still soaks you through to the skin. By lunchtime it decides to clear up and be grey. We head for the stadium during the afternoon and can’t even make out the tops of some of the cranes in the nearby ship yards.

Thankfully the match lifts the gloom no end. Germany are a joy to watch and play some lovely football, while Greece hint at an upset once more, albeit for only five second-half minutes. Germany are the best team I’ve seen out here and my last game at the tournament leaves me on a high.

The evening ends with a chat along a dimly lit side street leading back to our respective hotels with David Moyes. He is interesting, engaging and informative, just as I’m sure he will be next season when I try to interview him 10 minutes after a 1-0 home defeat.

Saturday June 23
Heading home today via a five-hour drive to Warsaw and flight back to Heathrow. Thank you Poland for a great 18 days.

Spain versus France is on the radio as I head round the M25. Not much of a game by all accounts.

Tomorrow I’ll be joining 20 million other Brits across the land by settling in front of the telly for the England game. An opportunity to see everyone else’s view of the Euro’s.

More importantly it’s a chance to spend some time with my family. In a summer encompassing the Euro’s, Tour de France, Olympics and Paralympics, I need to make the most of every opportunity to see them I can.

Sunday June 24
I can’t lie, I’m thinking about the Tour de France already. I think Bradley’s got a chance.

FWA Interview: Antonin Panenka

Posted on by
5

By CHRISTOPHER DAVIES

PELE said he must either be a genius or a madman. One French journalist called him a poet. Genius, madman or poet Antonin Panenka ensured he became part of football folklore with one kick – the most audacious penalty of all-time.

As we approach the 36th anniversary of Panenka’s chip-shot that won the 1976 European Championship for Czechoslovakia his humiliation of West Germany goalkeeper Sepp Maier remains one of world football’s most memorable moments.

It is now known as a Panenka and has successfully been copied by, among others, Zinedine Zidane and, on Sunday, Andrea Pirlo. There can be no finer endorsement for the man who redefined penalty taking.

The inventor, now 63 and president of Bohemians 1905, said: “I’ve seen a player take a penalty like that on television, and every commentator in every country never fails to describe it as a Panenka penalty, which is naturally very gratifying.”

If penalties paid royalties Panenka would be a rich man.

It happened in the 1976 European Championship final in Zagreb, then part of Yugoslavia. With the score at 2-2 after extra-time a penalty shootout was needed to decide the winners. The shootout had been introduced after the 1970 World Cup; the 1972 European Championship and 1974 World Cup passed off without the need for the lottery of penalties.

In fact, a replay had been scheduled by UEFA should the 1976 final be drawn but the two sides were informed shortly before the match that, in the event of a draw, they would face a penalty shootout. History was about to be made. And how.

The score was 4-3 to Czechoslovakia when Uli Hoeness put his effort over the Czech crossbar, the first and almost the last German shootout miss.

Next up for Czechoslovakia was Panenka but he was facing Bayern Munich’s Sepp Maier, by general consent the best goalkeeper in the world. But the hapless Maier made to look almost a fool. As Panenka ran up he feigned a shot to the right, causing Maier to move in that direction. Panenka, the coolest man in the stadium, chipped the ball down the centre of the now almost empty goal and Czechoslovakia had won the first major honour in their history.

He could not have known that almost 40 years later his penalty would have its own name and become part of the footballing vocabulary.

THE PANENKA was not a sudden moment of inspiration, it was two years in the making. He said: “I came up with the idea because I used to practise penalties after training at Bohemians with our goalkeeper Zdenek Hruska. To make it competitive, we used to wager a beer or a bar of chocolate on each penalty. Unfortunately, because he was such a good keeper, I usually ended up losing money as he kept saving more shots than I could score.

“I ended up lying awake at night thinking about how I could get the upper hand. I eventually realised that the goalkeeper always waited until just before the last moment to try to anticipate where the ball was going and dived just before it was kicked so he could reach the shot in time. I decided that it was probably easier to score by feinting to shoot and then just gently tapping the ball into the middle of the goal. In this way the keeper had always dived by the time the ball was kicked and had no chance of recovering in time to save the shot. I tried it out on the training ground and it worked like a charm. The only problem was that I started getting a lot fatter because I won back all those beers and chocolates.”

As England players will testify, converting a penalty on the training ground is one thing, being successful in the heat of the battle is another. Panenka tried his technique in Czech League games, helped by the fact that in the mid-Seventies Eastern Europe was almost a no-go zone and football coverage on TV was still in its infancy. There were still football secrets in those days.

He said: “About two years before the European Championship I began trying it. At first I did it during friendly matches and then I did it once or twice during Czechoslovak league matches. It worked so well that I decided that I would use the technique if I got a penalty at the European Championship.”

Cometh the hour, cometh the penalty and against the nation that was to become the shootout kings of world football Panenka was not so much confident he would score but certain.
He said: “Of course, it was pure chance that the opportunity came in the final when it went to penalties. When the German player missed his kick it was my turn. It was like the will of God. I was one thousand per cent certain that I would take the penalty in that way and that I would score.”

With that in mind Panenka was a nerves-free zone as he placed the ball on the spot, walked back, turned and prepared for the moment that was to change his life.
He said: “I felt very relaxed. It didn’t really matter to us at that point whether we’d win or not because I think that our fans were already very happy with what we had achieved by then. Winning the final was a bonus.

“We were seen as outsiders, no one thought we could manage it and then we surprised everyone. Psychologically, we were in much better shape than the Germans.”
Panenka became a national and international hero, Maier the fall guy.

He said: “I don’t think Sepp Maier took it very well. He was and perhaps still is, somewhat discomfited. I suspect he doesn’t like the sound of my name too much. I never wished to make him look ridiculous, though. I am not aware of anyone who want to make fun of someone when the European Championship is at stake. I chose the penalty because I realised that it was the easiest way of scoring a goal. It’s a simple recipe.”

When it comes off the Panenka remains, for the taker, hugely satisfying but there have been some embarrassing mis-kicks with the goalkeeper barely having to move as the ball is chipped into his welcoming hands. Ask Gary Lineker.

PENALTY shootouts remain England’s Achilles heel in major tournaments but Panenka believes there is no magic formula to shootout success and that goalkeepers are helped by a more relaxed attitude from match officials in the modern era.

He said: “I think that penalty shootouts are more about psychology than technique. I know that some players focus on practising penalty kicks during training sessions. They can convert as many kicks as they want but when it comes to taking a penalty during a match, they often balloon their shots over the bar. This clearly shows that psychology plays a very important part in this.

“But one thing is clear – it’s a lot harder for players to convert a penalty now. In my time, the goalkeeper was not allowed to move, he had to stand still on the line and could only move when the ball was in the air. Now, the situation is different, the keeper is free to move as much as he wants along his line which can make the takers very, very nervous or make them lose focus.

“For me, it was the easiest and simplest way of scoring because at that time, no one was familiar with this particular style of penalty kick. No-one expected it, which made the success rate very high.”

Antonin Panenka was talking to Coilin O’Connor of Radio Prague.

FWA Interview: Ian Ladyman

Posted on by
Reply

By CHRISTOPHER DAVIES

MEMBERS of the Football Writers’ Association have praised the press facilities at Euro 2012.

Not only is the entertainment on the pitch first class in Poland an Ukraine, Ian Ladyman, northern football correspondent of the Daily Mail, said: “There have been no complaints about the facilities out here.”
Ladyman has covered games in Warsaw, Kiev where he is based, Kharkiv, Donetsk and Lviv. He said: “The broadband is wired in both the press rooms and the press boxes. No passwords are needed, you just get a cable, put it in your lap-top and you are on line straight away. This is much more reliable than a wireless connection where you can lose the wi-fi. I was in Donetsk on Friday for the Ukraine v France game which was delayed for an hour…Friday night deadlines are always tighter and then the match was put back an hour because of the weather…the last thing a reporter needs to do is to worry about whether he’s going to be able to file.”
Magnificent as the stadium in Donetsk is, it is open to the elements with no shelter for the press box which was not good news when the heavens opened on Friday. “We were given plastic sheets to put over our lap-tops which kept them dry but it meant you couldn’t see the screen. Maybe it doesn’t rain very often in Donetsk in the summer but whether it’s a shower or a thunderstorm the press box will get wet.”
This is a problem also encountered at some English stadiums and while football writers do not expect luxurious working conditions, they need a roof or cover over what is their work place like others who use computers, telephones and notepads.
Ladyman continued: “There are television monitors in the press box, usually one set per four journalists while all the usual UEFA statistics are on hand. The headphone translations at press conferences have worked well.”
The mixed zone, where players – if they wish – can speak to the press after matches have been, according to Ladyman “less mental” without the South American media. “But I wish the authorities would section off the written media and radio and TV. We still have the situation where a player comes over to talk to us and suddenly a radio mike is thrust in his face, so what he says could be broadcast to the world. But that’s a small gripe, the mixed zones have been OK and the players have been pretty good at talking to us.”
Most teams have players who, win or lose, are media friendly with the usual suspects believing it is not part of their duty to speak to the press and by extension, the fans.
Ladyman was particularly impressed by Sweden when he went to their training camp with David McDonnell (Daily Mirror) and James Ducker (Times) the day after they had lost to Ukraine.
“It was in the middle of nowhere, it took us two hours to find so we were a little late for the press conference. But we were able to ask the two players put up questions in English and we chatted to [ex-Bolton striker] Johan Elmander in a sort of mixed zone after the Swedish press officer asked him to do something with the English media. That was very helpful considering they had lost the night before.”
Ladyman’s biggest criticism is the lack of hot food at media centres. “I know many share this view – when you are there for five or six hours, even longer, it is very frustrating that there is virtually no catering. I’ve covered three World Cups and this is my second European Championship and this the the first time I’ve had this problem. Previously there has always been some hot food available but here it’s been pretty lamentable.
“In Warsaw and Kiev there is what they call a McDonald’s cafe but all that’s available is really smoothies and salad. On the UEFA web site it says under facilities that there will be a restaurant at each venue where you can get hot food. That is not the case. At Kharkiv and Donetsk there weren’t even sandwiches, we were just offered cake or a muffin. That’s not enough when you are there for so long. Given how big and powerful UEFA are these days, I don’t know why they couldn’t arrange for a big pot of spaghetti bolognese for the media. We’d happily pay for it.
“Games in Ukraine, where there is a two-hour time-difference, don’t start until a quarter to ten at night. By the time the match is finished it’s almost midnight and then there are press conferences and mixed zones before writing the re-write. We’re still in the stadium at 2am.”
A game of two days but all UEFA do is to let football writers eat cake.
Ladyman’s travel between venues has been by air, eliminating the problems of cross-border train journeys which have caused fans such delays. One aspect of Euro 2012 that affects everybody is the cost of accommodation with hotels averaging out at £200 per night. “They actually cost £120 a night but when there is a game on it’s £400 which ups the average. In many cities, if you want to see a game they insist you pay for three nights.”
One newspaper – we’ll spare them public embarrassment by not naming them – was left with a bill for £500 for one night in a hotel that was not used. When the thunderstorm arrived in Donetsk on Friday and it looked at one stage that the Ukraine v France match would be delayed 24 hours the newspaper panicked and jumped the gun by booking a hotel for their reporter for an extra day. It was non-refundable.
Ladyman gave the press facilities 8/10 – his main beef, excuse the pun, the lack of hot food.

Patrick Barclay: My Week

Posted on by
Reply

PATRICK BARCLAY, Evening Standard and Independent on Sunday columnist, on sleep deprivation…video diaries…and a wedding invitation…

Monday June 11
What made me think this was a good idea? It’s 1.17am and I’m on a distinctly chilly platform at Poznan’s central railway station, wondering why someone designed the back-to-benches without backs. Sitting up rigid is to be the order of a long night following Ireland’s opening defeat by Croatia, but I don’t know this as, naively envisaging a few hours of sleep on the 2.06 back to Warsaw, I hang my restless head. A cry from across the tracks makes me look up. There’s an old drunk on an office chair. He’s tiny and the chair is clearly designed for a very senior executive. On a small table by his left hand is a can of beer. Mainly the drunk warbles but every now and again he squawks raucously at the passengers opposite. Now he’s going to attempt an expedition. He wriggles to the edge of the seat and hops to the ground. The Irish supporters milling around the station entrance have inadvertently given him an idea. It involves a request for a light for his cigarette. A stout female officer breaks clear from a group of police and intercepts him. Gently. After a mild protest, he returns to the chair and clambers aboard once more, taking a consoling sip of beer. The Polish police can look fierce but have seemed to control the Euro 2012 crowds – the thugs apart – with tact. The old man knows he can try it on again later. He’s smiling. So is the officer as her wagging finger indicates he should stay put for a while. Even I am smiling now. Eventually the train rolls in and there are five burly Poles in my six-seat compartment. They like being woken up about as much as you’d expect. My sleep, when it comes, is in 10-minute parcels. At one stage, I swear the minute hand of my watch has actually gone back. Tottering off at Warsaw, I realise there’s time to get back to the apartment and have a brief kip before writing the Evening Standard column. Bliss! And writing the column isn’t that bad either. I enjoy working with the Standard’s sports editor, Tim Nichols. He’s one of the best I’ve ever worked with and that’s saying something when the list includes Simon Kelner, Charlie Burgess, Alan Hubbard, John Samuel, Colin Gibson and the – for me- incomparable Jon Ryan.

Tuesday June 12
A busy day, involving a last-minute change to my video diary for the Independent website – sometimes you have to reinvent yourself and, if you try it at 64, workmates are bound to see the funny side – and a column on England’s draw with France for Fox Soccer in the United States culminates in Poland v Russia at Warsaw’s gorgeous crown-shaped National Stadium by the river. I’m based in Warsaw for the duration and the stadium media centre is my office. It’s just a matter of taking the lift to the gods, where the media seats are situated, half an hour before kick-off. The atmosphere is electric – comparable with Liverpool v Chelsea in the Champions League in 2005 – and it turns out to be a riveting match, a 1-1 draw. Being a football reporter is a privilege on nights like this and I hit the sack not at all caring that the wake-up call is at 3.30am.

Wednesday June 13
It’s 3.30am and, God, I hate this job. It’s a chilly journey to the Central Station. The train to Gdansk leaves at 5.12 and the station cafés aren’t open. At least there are six hours on the train in which to write the Standard column and a piece for a new magazine to be launched next month by Ken Monkou, the former Chelsea central defender. It’s an interview with the actor and comedian Omid Djalili, whom I met shortly before the flight to Warsaw. He couldn’t have been more helpful and, not for the first time, a football writer reflected on how much more civilised journalism can be when you step outside football. At night I was able to watch two matches while sinking food and a few pints.

Thursday June 14
Another day of hard work, to which the Standard added with a request for a piece about David Moyes’s suitability for the post created at Spurs by Harry Redknapp’s departure, ends with more lovely football, played by Spain in the rain that lashed 20,000 magnificent Ireland supporters. Fernando Torres scores twice and it’s four and could have been double figures. Shay Given makes a candidate for save of the tournament. A Dutch journalist mate invites me to join him on a drive back to Warsaw, which saves a bit of precious time.

Friday June 15
A scramble to get the latest video diary together in time for the Indy’s mid-morning audience. It’s successful thanks to a fine contribution from Andy Gray and Richard Keys, whose talkSPORT radio show I’d appeared on earlier in the week; it’s been transplanted from London to a flat in Warsaw near the stadium. Gray and Keys helped to preview the night’s match between Sweden and England, which I ended the day watching on television in my local bar in the old part of town, near the little flat that is home.

Saturday June 16
You know me: I never like to complain. That’s why I haven’t mentioned this before. But I’ve had this cough for at least two weeks and it’s getting worse. It’s getting so bad that, when I wake up this morning, I’m worried that the people next door are going to complain. So I ask the landlord, Jacek, who’s quickly become more of a mate really and introduced me to the rest of the good ol’ boys in the bar, and he drives me to his doctor and she’s got such a lovely smile and easy manner that I’m feeling better even before I start on the four drugs she prescribes. A feature on Jogi Lowe and the Germans for the Independent on Sunday fills the afternoon and then it’s up into the gods again for Greece v Russia. You can’t help but admire the Greeks, who win but are horribly deprived of their captain, Giorgos Karagounis, for the quarter-final as he is shown a yellow card for the heinous crime of being tripped in the penalty area. It’s wrong that referees are asked to be mind-readers. When they err in such situations, insult is added to injury and, on the whole, I’d prefer it if cautions for diving were abolished.

Sunday June 17
It’s virtually a day off. But I’ve wasted most of it sleeping. (A few of us decided to unwind after the Greece match. We found somewhere about 1am but initially it turned us away because there was a wedding party on. Upon being given the impression that we were about to burst into tears, the staff relented and set up a table for us in the square opposite. I don’t know how we found our way into the wedding party but it happened and I ended up among the last four in the bar at 6am. The others were the bride and groom. Their condition – immaculate – contrasted with ours and, when the staff finally ushered us out, my expression of hope that we had behaved ourselves, intended light-heartedly, was met by a thin smile and an enigmatic: ‘’It was a mistake.’’ If nothing else, I remember those words. Perturbing.) There are two concurrent matches at night to keep an eye on – Portugal v Holland and Denmark v Germany – and because the bar has tellies in opposite corners showing one each I’m sitting like Marty Feldman. But having a pint in your hand – or half-litre, which is just as well because Polish beer seems to start at 5.5 – does the experience no harm. It’s a hair of the dog that bit me. But I’m going to drink responsibly from now on.