No, me neither... I even had to use the Google translate button to figure out how to spell 'Do you speak German?' in German, which is a pretty tragic state of affairs seeing as my maternal grandfather (Raymond Roderick Ritter) was pretty darn German – he loved a good Eisbein and was the first to belt out a stirring rendition of the Rogers & Hammerstein classic Edelweiss whenever he'd had one too many glasses of white wine (it all makes sense now – my tastebuds are genetically programmed to like the stuff – it's not my fault...)
Anyways, there's a very good reason that the title of this post is in German – tonight at 20h30 Durban provides the backdrop for the semi-final clash between the Spaniards and the finest German soccer team to kick a ball around since oh, I dunno, heard somewhere that it's the best team in twenty years. Anyway, I do know that die Deutschen look to be in pretty fabulous form and in a display of Vorsprung durch Technik have scored the maximum number of goals in the entire World Cup.
Even with my heritage, I thought long and hard about who to support. You see, I supported Bafana Bafana until they were knocked out, and then I supported Mexico until they were knocked out, and then I supported Ghana (even thinking about that particular game makes me wanna have a good cry and eat a whole tube of Pringles)... it's pretty plain to see that I haven't had much success in cheering my team/s to victory which is why I briefly considered eating chorizo for dinner and nibbling on mezzé all day.
"Perhaps if I support the Spaniards then Germany will win," I thought. The logic's a little warped (as often mine is) but the thought did cross my mind and linger for a few minutes before I remembered that Grandpa Ray would probably throw something really hard at me (probably an empty wine barrel) from up above if he saw me opting for a Vino de Mesa over a good 'ol Weissbier. So Bratwurst and sauerkraut it is!
Now I just have to see if I actually own anything German in colour palette that I can wear tonight. Can't have the genuine Germans thinking I've just 'conveniently' remembered my roots so that I have a chance of celebrating when 'my team' taking the trophy home. Hey, don't judge me – as my hubby says 'I'm festive'... any excuse to shout and paint a flag on my face.
Grandpa Ray, I'll make you a deal – if we win, I'll sing a chorus or two from Eidelweiss for old times' sake. But be warned – a stadium full of vuvuzelas being blown by seven-year olds would probably assault your eardrums less.
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