He had smudged freckles, immodestly hairy knees and an air of vague familiarity. It took a second glance, however, to confirm that yes, the quiet, stooped bloke beside me was Ireland manager Steve Staunton.
What was Stan doing at the World Cup? Not enjoying the footie, that’s for sure. Unlike my father and I, Staunton hadn’t come to witness Germany's group stage dismantling of Ecuador for the unadulterated thrill. Dreary professional reasons summoned him to the Olympiastadium – Germany will be among Ireland’s opponents in the European championship qualifiers and what ‘the gaffa’ witnessed in Berlin surely chilled his blood.
Staunton, chaperoned by Ireland ‘b’ manager Pat Devlin, exited early and with a frown. Beforehand, he’d caused a flurry among those perched around us – thrilled to be sharing leg room with an international coach, but rather puzzled as to why he hadn’t snagged better seats.
Spying a stack of programmes wobbling on my lap – booty for dad’s drinking buddies back home – a Mexican woman, mistaking me for one of Stan’s lackey’s, appeared to be trying to tap me up for tickets. Thank heavens for language barriers. I smiled, but could do no more for her.
As to the game itself, well, one felt privileged sharing in Germany’s triumph. As an Eircom League devotee, I have always struggled to warm to the international game – who can feel anything for a Plastic Paddy XI cheered largely on by barstooler premiership ‘fans’? In Germany, though, they know how to support a team and their good-natured ebullience was contagious.
Sure, the World Cup is corporate and gauche and the organisers have a cheek demanding a deposit for the privilege of drinking over-priced beer from a branded plastic cup. Watching Germany romp to a 3-0 victory in the sunshine, however, all of your cynicism ebbed away. For 90 dazzling minutes, Dad and I were Berliners to the marrow.