WORLD CUP DIARYTomorrow, Emmet Malone will watch the final game in this year's World Cup. Here, he shares his dodgy snapshots from a month on the road covering one of the greatest tournaments in sport
THERE’S a running gag among Irish reporters who are veterans of a few of these tournaments. In honour of one of our colleagues who didn’t make it along this time, we should observe loudly to an unsuspecting and no doubt entirely disinterested flight attendant on the way home: “Well, there you go, another World Cup done and dusted.”
We’ll all be getting our chance in a couple of days when just over a month of haggling with taxi drivers, eating terrible press-centre food, begging for press-conference tickets, drinking too much and, of course, watching an awful lot of cracking football, will finally be behind us.
Journalists, of course, are inclined to complain too much (not least about other journalists complaining so much), and so I should note that apart from the cold, the odd transport problem, a shortage of hotel accommodation, some safety issues and a related inability of supporters to mingle in quite the way they would normally do, this has been a wonderful tournament to attend.
The scenery is spectacular, the history enthralling, the restaurant food great and the beer very cheap. Most importantly, though, the locals have been wonderful. Their good humour, friendliness and determination to make the whole thing work has been the real triumph of this World Cup.
The still-rising estimates as to how much it will end up costing the country suggest they will be paying for the tournament for quite some time to come. I sincerely hope they feel that it was worth it in the end.
