On Thursday, June 15, we didn't have tickets for a game, but the plan was to head down to Nuremberg and join the rabid English fans for their game against Trinidad & Tobago. We arrived at the station for the two and a half hour trip south to Nuremberg, a little train weary at this point. But as we would find out, our extensive travels were nothing compared to our traveling companions.
Joining us in our cabin on the way down to Nuremberg was an English family of three from Newcastle. An eleven-year old boy named Rory (who we dubbed "Wee Rory") and his parents had traveled 23 hours from Newcastle to London to Frankfurt via coach (bus), and were now making the final leg of their journey.
Rory's dad had won tickets through a contest in his local newspaper, and mom was coming along, as she had never been to Germany. Wee Rory was quite the intelligent fan, and you could see his excitement building as the train got closer to Nuremberg. He asked his dad if he could have another look at the tickets, and he stared at them with anticipation and awe, as if he were holding a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. We could certainly appreciate Wee Rory's emotions. But that didn't stop us from stealing the tickets and running off when he and his parents fell asleep for a few minutes. Just kidding. (The rest of that story is true, though.)