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Sep. 7th, 2003 03:53 pmYesterday I accompanied Francesco and his French colleague to Karlsruhe to the European Volleyball Championships. Very nice of me, considering that I don't actually knwo that much about Volleyball and care even less. But I had fun anyway, though more because I was able to watch the strangest gathering of people (and THAT coming from a convention-junkie) than because of the matches.
Ok, it's not like I know nothing about volleyball. I do know the positions and how to score and what the different guestures made by the referee mean. I can't, however, give all-knowing comments like my two companions with that certain air of superiority. Which was probably for the best after we found out that we were the only Italian supporters in an all Spanish fan block. I prefer to believe that the pieces of paper and peanut shells which hit me were actually just badly aimed at the two guys beside me. ;-)
It's been a long time since I saw people freak out like that. Across from us sat a huge lady with an even larger drum who started a battle cry every time one of the German players so much as scratched his nose. Her strategy worked, though, because it totally unnerved the Czech team and made them commit a few pretty stupid mistakes.
The only thing I really hated were the two commentators from the local radio station who semmed to believe that the German supporters needed to be told how to cheer. "All hands up and the air! YES! And now show us how the wave is done!" Stupid git. If you don't know how to do a wave, ask someone. Don't tell 15.000 people to show you. Especially when I'm sitting somewhere among them, forced to imitate their movements or have my head bashed in by ecstatically flailing arms.
We were back home around ten with two pizzas for the guys and while I went straight to bed with a book and a major headache they turned on the TV and watched some more sports. And guess what, in about an hour the French guy will be back in our place to watch EVEN MORE volleyball!
Luckily I finally finished the VocabLists for my language classes and will be able to just retire to our bedroom, maybe with a discman to block out the noise from the living room.
And another Sunday gone.
Ok, it's not like I know nothing about volleyball. I do know the positions and how to score and what the different guestures made by the referee mean. I can't, however, give all-knowing comments like my two companions with that certain air of superiority. Which was probably for the best after we found out that we were the only Italian supporters in an all Spanish fan block. I prefer to believe that the pieces of paper and peanut shells which hit me were actually just badly aimed at the two guys beside me. ;-)
It's been a long time since I saw people freak out like that. Across from us sat a huge lady with an even larger drum who started a battle cry every time one of the German players so much as scratched his nose. Her strategy worked, though, because it totally unnerved the Czech team and made them commit a few pretty stupid mistakes.
The only thing I really hated were the two commentators from the local radio station who semmed to believe that the German supporters needed to be told how to cheer. "All hands up and the air! YES! And now show us how the wave is done!" Stupid git. If you don't know how to do a wave, ask someone. Don't tell 15.000 people to show you. Especially when I'm sitting somewhere among them, forced to imitate their movements or have my head bashed in by ecstatically flailing arms.
We were back home around ten with two pizzas for the guys and while I went straight to bed with a book and a major headache they turned on the TV and watched some more sports. And guess what, in about an hour the French guy will be back in our place to watch EVEN MORE volleyball!
Luckily I finally finished the VocabLists for my language classes and will be able to just retire to our bedroom, maybe with a discman to block out the noise from the living room.
And another Sunday gone.
