I've just watched England go out of Euro 2012 on penalties. It was heartbreaking, as usual. I don't know why I still get that "maybe this time..." feeling every time, but I do. Obviously, it wasn't this time, but I still believe it will be one time. I guess that's football... which brings me to my next story: Hamburg 2010. it's a long and rambling story, so hold on tight...
Those of you reading who follow football will probably remember that Fulham FC reached the Europa League Final in 2010. Incidentally, they were managed by Roy Hodgson, the true gentleman who now manages England (and before that, my beloved West Bromwich Albion). No one really expected them to make the final, so when they did it was a last minute scramble to charter flights out to Hamburg for fans to watch the game. An email went round to all managers of businesses in the group I work for, asking for volunteers to work as reps for the game.
Now, I work in an office and I'd never been an in-country rep before, but I'm a big football fan, and I like travelling. I'd never been to Hamburg (I'd never even been to Germany) and there was a chance I'd get tickets to the match. At the very least, I worked out I'd get at least 4 hours free in Hamburg to explore. I jumped at the chance, bought a guidebook and along with my friends Katie, Beth and Laura, started planning a "Half day in Hamburg" whistlestop tour.
The adventure began with a flight from Gatwick to Leeds. This in itself was bloomin' exciting as I'd never got a domestic flight before and felt very high powered and important among the business people in their suits, jetting to the capital for work. Shame I didn't really fit in, with my trashy magazine and skeleton print t-shirt...
Yeah! Domestic!
Upon arrival at Gatwick, we met the rest of the team at the Hilton (yeah! The Hilton, baby!) for our briefing. We'd been assured that as newbies we'd be doing basic stuff and wouldn't have to worry about too much responsibility. However... turns out one of the experienced members of staff was sick, so I'd been "bumped" to flight leader. I was responsible for an entire plane full of fans and would see them from check in to the plane, then onto their coach to the Reeperbahn area of Hamburg where I could leave them to drink and be merry until it was time to get back on the coach and to the ground. Then I would round them up, back on the coach to the airport and then once they were all on the plane home, my job was done and I could fly home myself. Easy-peasy...
Next morning check in started at 6am and I was there bright eyed and bushy tailed with my clipboard and sign, welcoming fans to the Coach 43 party. I stressed the importance of them getting to the gate as soon as it was announced, so that we could get on the plane and away. Like good boys and girls, they did. Then for the first hitch of the day - take off delayed by an hour due to landing permissions at Hamburg. The fans were very understanding - after all, it was early and they still had plenty of drinking time in the Reeperbahn even if they were losing an hour. We boarded the plane, and off we went. I took the opportunity to get some sleep while the excited fans sang chant after chant, whipping themselves up into a frenzy. As we landed, a mighty cheer erupted as they clamoured to get off the plane and into the city...
They shouldn't have been so hasty. Hamburg airport was very busy that day, and plane stairs were scarce. The flight attendant took me aside and explained there would be a delay before the fans could get off the plane and onto their coach... and she didn't want to be the one to tell them. Cue my first ever tannoy announcement - which was greeted with a rousing chorus of boos. The plane was HOT and the fans were getting restless... plans were voiced to jump from the plane to the ground - who needs stairs anyway? - and lower the wheelchair using fan down using a pulley fashioned fron the strongest male fans and club scarves. Much as I admired the teamwork, I was thankfully able to dissuade them from this plan and the stairs arrived a mere 40 minutes after we landed.
We hurried out of the airport, through customs and into the car park where I'd been promised our coach would be waiting. I suppose you know what's coming... no coach. I spent a frantic ten minutes running around the car park asking bemused German drivers "Coach 43? Nein?" before being beckoned by the ringleader of my party to a coach parked behind a large wall, and a smiling man named Herman who I was told would be our driver for the day. Now the only German I spoke at this point was yes/no, 1 2 3 and "shit" so I was very happy to learn that Herman spoke fluent English and was an old hand at coach driving, football tours and Hamburg in general. I got straight on the tannoy to reasurre my fans that despite the delays, they could still have 2 hours in the Reeperbahn before heading back to the carpark to meet Herman and I. Any lateness would result in us leaving without them and them missing the match - harsh but fair.
Once in the Reeperbahn I set about finding the rest of the reps for a well deserved chill out, some food and a cheeky beer. Not so easy, as the place was rammed with football fans from both sides. I got swept up in a group of Athletico Madrid fans singing as I tried to cross the road, and when I did finally find the group I had just 15 minutes before it was time to get back to the coaches, and Herman. So much for my whistle-stop tour of Hamburg!
Very happy to see the others!
Of course, this wouldn't be a good disaster story if it ended there, so obviously when I got back to the carpark, Herman and his lovely shiney coach had dissapeared. Instead, where he had beem, was a frustrated (and by now pretty intoxicated) group of fans wanting to know how they were getting to the ground. So, off I went - more running around a car park looking for a coach. I finally located the manager of the tour, who showed be to an old, rickety double decker bus and a grumpy looking driver who reluctantly replied "Olaf" when I pointed to myself and said "Rachel" then to him with a questioning smile. I rounded up my fans and tried to brush off their "errr, Rachel, what the fluff?" (some words have been amended) questions as they saw their new vehicle. Just as I finished counting them all on board, a group of twenty or so additional fans stormed the bus, telling me "you don't mind giving us a lift do you love?" Now of course, I should have kicked them off, but I was tired, there was room for them and it was time to go... so I turned a blind eye, called a cheery "football!" to Olaf, and we were off.
The journey to the ground was going well - no one seemed too fussed that the bus roof (a tarpaulin) was blowing in the breeze as we sped along the auto-bahn, and the hijacking fans were leading the songs and engaging me in some banter about my choice of football team. I even had to laugh when they stole my beloved tannoy and requested loudly that I get my "t*ts out for the lads..." I declined, but it wasn't held against me and we waved a cheery farewell to each other at the side of the road, where I yet again requested promptness for the return to the bus after the match. As I watched them go, I breathed a sigh of relief - the next 2 hours were my own and I still had hopes of getting in to the ground to watch the match.
Those hopes were - of course - dashed, when I finally met up with my friends. Beth was in tears after a traumatic encounter with an unfriendly group of Athletico fans who didn't take kindly to her bus driver parking in "their" car park. Katie was stressed out after running around and around the ground hunting for Beth, who had called her crying only for her phone to cut out before she could tell Katie where she was. We wearily trudged to the group meeting point to be told that there were no tickets for the game, but we could watch on a tiny screen and eat a free burger before heading back to the coaches. Too weary to argue, I gobbled my burger and tried to catch 40 winks on the hard floor.
15 minutes before the end of the match (which had gone to extra time) we trudged back to our coaches (or in my case, bus...) and I was relieved to see that Olaf had stayed where we'd agreed to meet and was listening the match on the bus radio. "England?" I inquired hopefully, but Olaf looked at me solemly and replied, "nein. Espana." Fulham had lost - the fans would not be happy."Shiezer," I said, sadly, and Olaf nodded - "ja, shiezer."
Bit by bit the fans trickled through and I ticked them off on one by one - if your name's not on the list, you're not coming in. They were all accounted for except for 3 when the tour leader arrived, and told me another of the coaches had broken down and some of those passengers would have to get on my bus. No worries I thought, and then they arrived - not as friendly as my mob, much more drunk and determined to get to the airport NOW. As they swarmed aboard, my missing 3 passengers arrived so I started to batten down the hatches as Olaf revved his engine. Just as the doors were closing I hear a loud "OI!!" and an arm forced it's way through the door. On the other side was a very cross looking lady, and a grey haired man standing behind her. "We're getting on! My dad's OLD! He needs to get home NOW" she demanded. Now, I'm not heartless, but there was no room at the inn (or on the bus) and health and safety tells me they're not getting on without a seat when there's another perfectly good coach (much better to be honest - it had an actual roof and not a tarpaulin) down the road. I politely explained this to her and as her dad (not even that old...) nodded understandingly and set off for the other coach she again screeched "NO!" and punched me on the arm. I had been punched! Football violence!
Bit by bit the fans trickled through and I ticked them off on one by one - if your name's not on the list, you're not coming in. They were all accounted for except for 3 when the tour leader arrived, and told me another of the coaches had broken down and some of those passengers would have to get on my bus. No worries I thought, and then they arrived - not as friendly as my mob, much more drunk and determined to get to the airport NOW. As they swarmed aboard, my missing 3 passengers arrived so I started to batten down the hatches as Olaf revved his engine. Just as the doors were closing I hear a loud "OI!!" and an arm forced it's way through the door. On the other side was a very cross looking lady, and a grey haired man standing behind her. "We're getting on! My dad's OLD! He needs to get home NOW" she demanded. Now, I'm not heartless, but there was no room at the inn (or on the bus) and health and safety tells me they're not getting on without a seat when there's another perfectly good coach (much better to be honest - it had an actual roof and not a tarpaulin) down the road. I politely explained this to her and as her dad (not even that old...) nodded understandingly and set off for the other coach she again screeched "NO!" and punched me on the arm. I had been punched! Football violence!
Luckliy, the tour leader arrived and escorted them to their alternative transport and I jumped back onto the safety of the bus, spread my arms in my best plane impression, pointed to the road ahead and yelled "ja, Olaf, ja!" We were off, me clinging to the stairs for dear life as the roof tried its best to drown out my apologetic tannoy anouncements and instructions to follow me when we got to the airport, as it was "free boarding" and therefore chaos. We would go, en masse, to the first available plane, and we would board it TOGETHER.
Obviously, things didin't go to plan when at the airport either. I was acosted by airport security as soon as I walked through their scanners and taken off for a thorough frisk by a stern lady who wouldn't listen to my "but my fans are wandering off! Please!" pleas and took her own sweet time to decide that my clipboard could go through security with me. On the other side, I saw my fans standing in a group. "We waited, like you told us" said one, and I could've kissed him. Instead, I led them to the departure gate of the next departing flight for Gatwick, and we were the first people there. I was happy - surely this was the end of it all?
Of course it wasn't. We had no plane, and no pilot. The airport staff explained they had no idea when either would arrive, and once again said that they wouldn't be making any announcements but I was welcome to use their tannoy to do it myself if I wanted to! Off I went again, tannoy to the whole of Hamburg airport: "some of you will know me from coach 43..." - huge cheer from coach 43 - "I'm Rachel..." - chants of my name - "I'm afraid we've got no plane just now..." - huge jeers. I was quite heartened when several of coach 43's fans shouted down another chap who yelled at me that I was a "fluffing waste of space" (words have been changed again) with "leave Rachel alone! She's alright!" Bless you, coach 43.
Some time and several more tannoy anouncements later I'd rounded up a pilot (Julian, nice man - very keen to fly us home but less keen to fly the plane now parked at our gate, as it belonged to another airline. Spoilsport) and then finally managed to get a plane of the right airline towed into our gate. 3 hours after arriving at the airport the fans were on board the plane, all accounted for. My duty was done, the adventure was over, I could slump in my seat and sleep the entire flight home.
Back at Gatwick I was heartened to receive several shouts of thanks and offers of a pint at the next Fulham v West Brom match, should they see me there. It had been a disaster, but the fans were still smiling, still friendly. I have a lot of respect for Fulham fans because of that, and a soft spot for the team to this day.
The trip was horrendous, I'd been awake for 26 hours straight and hadn't seen any of the things on my mini itinerary. I'd been punched in the arm, run several marathons around German car parks and ridden a double decker bus down an auto-bahn, standing on the staircase. I hadn't seen the match, Fulham had lost, and I'd been aggressively frisked by a not-even-attractive security guard. I was exhausted, I had a flight back to Leeds and the office in 3 hours and I felt like crying... but I had to laugh.
What an experience! Madness... and I'd do it all again tomorrow :)
Ahhhh. That's my bus. And Olaf.
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