“Italy and Spain will be left with little choice but to plug its nose, open wide and except the bitter medicine. Both Italy and Spain are too big to fail.”

Canada wasn’t the only nation that celebrated this weekend. The Austerity Bowl, better known as Euro 2012 soccer final was played this weekend. The finals were a nice distraction for those of Spanish and Italian decent – that was before the game started. The final wasn’t much of a game because Spain destroyed the Italians on the field. Soccer purists could marvel at Spain’s dominance and breath taking skills. But if it was an exciting game you were looking for, you would have been better off channel surfing. If you missed it the final score it was Spain 4 Italy 0. Ouch!

Prior to Sunday’s final game you couldn’t help but notice the flags of European countries being proudly displayed by motorists. If it’s like this in Toronto and other Canadian cities can you imagine what it must have been like in Spain and Italy leading up to the game?! These two countries could sure use a distraction. Both countries are in dire straits when it comes to their respective economies. Both Spain and Italy’s have had to look for handouts from their European ruler, Germany and the IMF. The only thing missing for the Italian and Spanish President is a piece of cardboard that reads, can you spare a trillion? Spain’s unemployment rate has now reached a shocking 25%, and they can only envy Italy’s 10.2% unemployment rate. Investors view Italy as being much safer than Spain, but that’s like picking your poison. Home sales in Italy have dropped by 20% in 2012, and they cannot service their $2 trillion debt. That being said home prices have remained steady in Italy, and their banks are not nearly exposed as Spanish banks. But Italy’s irresponsible government spending in the last twenty years has given them very little leverage to negotiate favorable loan terms. Italy and Spain will be left with little choice but to plug its nose, open wide and except the bitter medicine. Both Italy and Spain are too big to fail. They are the 8th and 12th largest economies in the world, their neighbor, Germany, cannot afford to let that happen. Greece? A throw away. The two aforementioned countries? Not a chance. Germany will figure out a solution and Italy and Spain will have to accept the terms; Like maybe having Angela Merkel’s picture on all their currency, including coins.

If the fine people of Italy and Spain derived any kind of pleasure prior to the final, good for them. A distraction doesn’t make the problems go away but being able to put aside everyday problems for a brief moment must have been such a relief for them. I suspect that good number of people in Italy and Spain must be envious of us here in Canada. Sure, we have our issues but when compared to other countries around the world they would gladly trade their problems for ours. How fortunate that those of Italian and Spanish nationality get to live in such great countries like Canada. That applies to individuals of every nationality that lives in Canada. Maybe one day everyone will remember to celebrate Canada during international sporting events; something simple, like displaying the Canadian Flag along with your country of origins flag when driving around the city. No one can use the excuse “I didn’t think of that”. The final was played on Canada Day.

Until next time

Cheers

It’s time to say goodby to Poland, and head back to reality.  I write this blog in advance of the final game which took place last night.  By the time this blog is posted our traveling party will be on a plane heading to Germany to catch our connection to Toronto.  The whole purpose of this trip was to capture memories with family and and friends.  The soccer games we attended was a mere instrument to that end and the games provided some unforgettable memories.  Some good, and some sporting memories which would be best served staying in Poland.

What I’ll remember is the laughter, the excitement, experiencing a different culture and acquiring a taste for Polish beer.  When a pint of beer costs less than bottled water you left with no choice but to do the math and come to the conclusion, “what else could we do”?  What stands if for me is that my dad is real champ. At the age of 75 he hung in with us like a real trooper.  At the games, the outdoor cafe’s and of course the pub’s.  Never once did he complain, and every time we asked him if he was okay his answer was, ‘let’s go”.  My brother, who loves capturing images of, well, everything.  Here’s a picture of us getting into the cab, here’s a picture of us in the cab, and here’s a picture of us getting out of the cab.   He had a blast and provided many a funny moment.  Our Irish traveling companion, who has an uncanny knack for languages, was our official translator in Poland.  Sure we took some extra long cab rides because Polish isn’t his first language but eventually he always got us back to the hotel. For his sake I hope his team did well on Monday night, it would be a nice way for him to end the trip.

It was a blast but reality awaits.  From weak economic news to OSFI rules and everything in between.  It’s good to be home.

Until next time,

Cheers.

A tad late posting the blog but the reason for my tardiness is understandable, I’m on vacation and I was busy celebrating.  Celebrating a tie may not be fashionable in North America but at a tournament of this magnitude, facing stiff competition, we gladly took our point.  It was a wonderful experience being in the Municipal Stadium last night.  It’s a shame that the stadium wasn’t full.  This was due in large part the lack of support from the Italians.  Supporters of the Azzurri were badly outnumbered, and their cheers were drowned out by those wearing the checkerboard jersey.  It’s been reported here that the Italian Soccer Federation returned some seven thousand tickets which were allotted to them for the tournament.  I suspect that Italy, like many of their nutty nieghbours, had some kind of social program which subsidized Euro Tickets and travel costs.  Angela Merkel now says that’s verboten.   I say that in jest but given the entitlements that most Europeans deem to be their god given right, a social program such as this wouldn’t surprise me in the least. 

 The game itself supplied plenty of drama.  We were fortunate to come out of the first half down only a goal.  The conversation among us was rather muted during halftime. Then out of nowhere the Croatians exhibited their skill sets in the second half which had taken them this far. I was so relieved because I could stop holding my breath and I could start enjoying the game. There was no doubt the Croatian’s were going to score in the second half.  The only question left to be answered was if they could score two goals and celebrate a victory.  Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. 

 The third and final game for the Croatians in the qualifying group is a huge task, the Spaniards.  There are so many variables to be able to advance to the next round, ties and loses by all the teams in the group, that it makes the brain hurt.  One possibility is if the Irish could defeat or tie the Italians, but given their performance to date at this tournament it’s clear we’re going to have to do this ourselves.  Frankly, that’s the way it should be.

The cool thing about this adventure is the interesting people we have met along the way. Last night there was a group of us chatting, having a cigar and the odd beverage, on the hotel balcony.  There was a gent of Croatian heritage from Australia in the group. He and his family, wife, three kids and his sister and brother in-law, are in Poland for Euro 2012 qualifying round. Then they’re  off for another eight weeks to travel around Europe.  Clearly these people know how to live.  Also among the group on the patio was a television crew who were broadcasting the games back to Germany.  Here’s the thing, they hate soccer.  This is just another gig for them, and all they wanted to do is talk about Canada, and the visits they’ve made to the great white north. I had to laugh when the guy from Berlin said he loved Winnipeg, and he meant it. Then there was the two guys from Switzerland, who spoke French but are of Italian heritage.  They were in Poland to support their team, which I believe was the Italians.  Given the different languages they spoke I wasn’t really sure who they were supporting. They didn’t say much in Italian, but when they did I got homesick.  It reminded me of the sounds of Woodbridge, Ontario.  A cultured and unique group of individuals or if you prefer, the  UN of beer guzzlers.

 Until next time

 Cheers

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Needless to say that 75% of our traveling group was in a euphoric state after the game. Our Irish traveling companion was disappointed but like all the Irish supporters in the stadium they accepted defeat with grace.  I was stunned at the number of Irishmen who congratulated me as we walked the streets after the game.   Bar none the Irish supporters are the best fans anywhere.

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric.  This was like a home game for the Irish because 80% of those in attendance wore the Irish jersey, and they were in good voice.  They sang, and sang, and then they sang some more.  Hours before the game, and definitely during the game, the Croatian supporters were serenaded with “you’ll never beat the Irish”.  They continued to sing even though we were dissecting them with surgical precession.  When the final whistle blew I sang a song to myself – I was surrounded by thousand of Irish fans and I wasn’t about to test their good nature,”we just beat the Irish”.

On to the Italians, who smugly believe it’s their god given right to advance to the next round.  According to the Italian press a victory over the Croatians is but a mere formality.  That’s just the way we – Croatian supporters – like it.

Until next time

Cheers

My dad grabbed my shoulders and turned me in his direction.  He hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and said, “this is the best gift anyone could have ever given me”.

Over the years I have learned, sometimes painfully, it is not material possessions that make you happy.  Sure, nice clothes, cars and houses are nice but they end up being disposable.  Experiences create memories, and that’s something no one can take away from you.  I am about to embark on a journey which will create a lifelong memory for me.  On Friday, my dad, my brother and a family friend of ours are heading to Poland for Euro 2012.  For those not familiar with soccer or this tournament, it’s a tournament that brings together the top 16 soccer nations in Europe who will compete for European soccer supremacy.   The quality of soccer at this tournament is by far the best.  It far exceeds the World Cup because unlike the World Cup, no dogs qualify.  The teams which qualify for Euro 2012 are some of the strongest teams in the world.  Thousands of supporters will make a pilgrimage to either Poland or the Ukraine, the two host countries, for this tournament.  That’s what makes this tournament so exciting, it is nation against nation with very passionate fans.  Sometimes the passion can cross over the line but if it’s anything like Euro 2008 in Austria, you would have to be a complete moron to try anything stupid.  I had never seen security like I did in 2008.  Given the police presence and visible militia during the tournament in Austria, I think it was the safest place to be in all of Europe.

My reason for going to Euro 2012 is because of the experience I had during Euro 2008.  Our entire family went to Austria in 2008, but it was the boys who attended 3 games during the qualifying round.  It was a special moment and time to spend with my dad and my brother.

As point of background, I’m of Croatian decent.  I was born and raised in Canada, but like many Canadians, my parents immigrated to Canada.  They escaped from communist Yugoslavia, for the sole purpose of a better life.  My parents instilled great pride in me about my ancestry, and they forced me to go to Croatian language school every Saturday, for seven consecutive years.  Trust me, back then I was none too pleased to get on a bus every Saturday to go to yet another school. Today?  I’m thankful they did it.  I can converse in a second language, more than just swearing, and make my away around Croatia when we go and visit family there.  But here’s the thing, my father never put Croatia over Canada.  He is so proud to be Canadian that sometimes it put me to shame.  After a brutal and bloody war, Croatia became an independent country in 1992.  I don’t believe my father honestly thought he would ever see the day that Croatia would gain its freedom but he never stopped hoping.  I can’t even imagine what it must felt like when that day finally arrived for him.  How could I understand being born and raised in Canada, where what we take for granted is wishful thinking for those who came from an oppressed country.  On Croatian Independence Day, my Dad will raise the Croatian flag at his home just north of Toronto.  But here’s the thing, right next to the Croatian Flag is the Canadian Flag.  He would never display one without the other.  He is a proud Canadian and Canada is his home.

I go back four years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday.  We were in Klagenfurt, Austria to watch a David and Goliath soccer game; Croatia, a nation of four and half million people, against the mighty Germans, a nation of eighty two million people. Croatia produces some magnificent soccer players but let’s get real, this is Germany.  We went into the stadium hoping for a tie, and with 10 minutes left in the game Croatia was leading by a 2-1 score.  The last 10 minutes of the game was the longest 10 minutes of my life.  The mighty Germans threw everything at us; they kept attacking us in waves.  Yet somehow the lads wearing the checkerboard jerseys kept them at bay.  We were horse from singing and chanting, hurling verbal abuse at the German spectators on the other side of the pitch.  I remember looking at the clock and it read 90 minutes.  The game should be over but in soccer you always play a few extra minutes to make up for lost time due to bad acting (for illustration please see the Italian National Soccer Team).  So I kept my eyes of the referee and I was willing him to blow the final whistle.  It finally happened, it was sheer pandemonium.  The three of us were jumping up and down like idiots.  We were high fiving and hugging total strangers, and then my dad grabbed my shoulders and turned me in his direction.  He hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and said, “This is the best gift anyone could have ever given me”.  It was at that moment that I said to myself that if my father was in good health and able to travel we would do this again; if I had to take a second job scrubbing toilets to be able to pay for the trip, so be it.  The experience and memory will stay with me for a life time.

Joining us this year is someone that I’ve been friends with for thirty years and he knows my dad and brother really well.  Kevin Conroy is his name, and as you may have surmised that’s Irish.  The first game we will be attending is Croatia versus the Republic of Ireland.  I told Kevin not to give sitting in the Croatian section of the stadium a second thought.  He’ll be more than welcome wearing his green jersey.  Hey, I did all the organizing and got all the tickets.

Until next time,

Cheers.