When your oldest teammate drops you a message saying “Got a spare for Germany vs Ecuador, do you want it?”, you don’t mess about. A slight adaptation to my World Cup 2026 travel story meant skipping some tourism, but this is the World Cup, Boston can wait for another trip, sometimes it just pays to be in the right place at the right time.
I booked the next Greyhound headed for the Big Apple. Arriving early evening, there was a beautiful hue about the city. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sunset hit a city so nicely, reflections bouncing off the notorious skyscrapers.
My first mission was to head across the Hudson River to Newark, New Jersey and meet up with my old pal Thiago, a Brazilian journalist whom I’ve now met at five international tournaments, a great friend whose AirBnB I was going to share for the next week or so. Tired and drained, we squeezed in another match alongside a few ciders that went down like Apple Juice before hitting the sack.
Alternative plan
Just as I’d experienced in Boston, much had been made of the rise in prices for the train over from Manhattan to the MetLife stadium in New Jersey. The $13 ticket was hiked up to $100. An absolute disgrace, one that was rightly vilified in the press but unfortunately those kind of things don’t bother FIFA.
I decided to get a little creative, Google maps didn’t offer any alternative solution so I found a bus that went reasonably close for $3 and then set off on a 40-minute walk over motorways before arriving at the stadium, I can see why Google maps didn’t recommend it but more than doable.
I’d built in sufficient time for things to go wrong, but it couldn’t have gone smoother so I was in my seat with a beer well before kick-off, beautiful. Another incredible stadium and we had prime spot in the corporate section. Padded seats and all for free, I was one very happy man.
Another bonus of getting to this game was my ambition to visit every stadium that has ever hosted a World Cup Final. Of the 23 stadia to host a final, this would be my 14th. Thus taking the pressure off getting to the England vs Panama game later in the week. We were certainly through and there was no jeopardy in that game, so paying $1000 would have been a crazy move. Best saved for more exciting opportunities I think.
Trying to fit in
As a neutral I was proudly representing our team Trafford United…not twigging that it was a Nike shirt….and that these corporate tickets were for Adidas. Not sure if he always does this, but one lad in front turned round and offered myself and my ticket donor, Rick, a brand new Germany shirt with the tag still on. Be rude not to. A quick switch and I was putting on my best accent and cheering on ‘Die Nationalmannschaft’ for the day.
Thankfully my adopted nation put out a strong team despite having already qualified as group winners, however Ecuador were in desperate need of a win to secure qualification. They had been many peoples (including mine) dark horses before the tournament and had so far flattered to deceive. An early Germany goal threatened to end their dream but that didn’t stop the Ecuador faithful from repeatedly chanting ‘¡Sí se puede!’ – ‘Yes, we can’. The support paid off and less than ten minutes in, it was all square. What a great start to a game as a neutral.
Once again the beers flowed, this time out of the pockets of Adi Dassler, Danke schön mein Freund, I will continue to buy ‘Copa Mundial’ boots for the rest of my life. Halftime came and went and the crowd kept singing. In the 78th minute Gonzalo Plata sent the Ecuadorian fans into rapture, an opportunistic goal put his side in front and with German substitutions weakening their team, they held on for victory and qualification for the knockout stages.
As we filtered out to the sounds of “¡Sí se pudo!”- yes we did. A few fans came to offer their commiseration before requesting that we swapped shirts. Despite it being an absolute belter, I couldn’t quite imagine turning up to footy training in a Germany shirt back home so this was the ideal scenario.
3rd shirt of the day
The shirts were exchanged and our ‘amigo’ went away happy, a lovely fit and style but the Ecuador shirt one was probably one of the worst jerseys in a tournament full of gems. Not to worry, a nice little anecdote to take away from the day.
A few chilled beers back in NYC to round off the night was a pleasant experience, thank you again Adi. Heading back around 2am, it turns out ‘The city that never sleeps’ does indeed sleep, between the hours of 2 and 4 am more specifically, at least when trying to catch the train out of town.
I used the exact same joke on the NYPD officer who had the pleasure of the early morning shift at Penn Station, I was a little too drunk to remember everything in detail, but I can only imagine he was howling laughing.
As for me, a couple of hours sitting in the street scrolling through my photos in between looking up and marvelling at the beauty of night-time New York skyline. There are worse places to be stranded.
Morning/Afternoon came and I rose from my stupor, my chance to properly explore one of the most iconic cities on the planet. When something is billed as the best, it’s easy to expect too much and get way too overexcited by things, and sometimes it is a bit of hype and hearsay. But boy does NYC deliver, as expected, you immediately feel like you’re in a film.
Straight out of the movies
Steam from the Subway, yellow cabs, huge buildings, external fire escapes, Central Park. Wherever you looked, there’s a reminder of your childhood watching films; The Turtles, Home Alone, Elf, Die Hard…you could keep writing all day…it’s something special and unique, and an experience I recommend everyone to try once in a lifetime, you won’t regret it. The only downside, strolling around, you will find yourself crossing a road every bloody 5 minutes due to the block system throughout the city.
I quite fancied a bar to go and sing England songs with my fellow countrymen but another old pal Arthur wisely persuaded me to give Times Square a go. Here we watched England and Panama fans peacefully sing passionately for an hour or so before calling it a night.
England vs Panama, New York/New Jersey stadium. For so many months I’d been seeking every which way to snaffle myself a ticket, but by the time the game came, it had limited meaning. We were through, I’d already ticked off the stadium so I kept that $1000 in the bank and paid $20 (3 beers included) to get into Smithfield Hall which I’d heard would be full of English fans. They weren’t wrong.
I’ve never been a fan of the American system of people blocking the bar by sitting down. In England, if it’s busy, we politely find a different space and allow the important task of serving drinks to be at its most efficient.
Cracking bunch
This was the day all of that changed. I snuck a little spot at the bar, several screens in front of me, Barrie on my right, Pete on my left. A polite nod to start but fast forward to half time and 4 pints later, they were my best pals.
Bloody lovely, genuine English blokes, the kind that gives you pride in who you are and what you represent, nothing special, nothing important, just genuinely good English fellas, top people, the likes of whom I bumped into time and time again on this trip.
Set up a tab and the barmen knew exactly what you wanted and spotted the empty pint pot in a flash, when you went for a piss, your new pals guarded your seat like their life depended on it. And then people find their spot behind you and before you know it you’ve got a lovely group of new friends. I am officially a convert to the American bar style, one which I enjoyed many times throughout my American adventure.
Back to the footy and it wasn’t great was it but not as bad as Ghana. A frustrating watch but our Golden Boy Jude and England’s greatest ever, Harry Kane, did the job with a couple of quick-fire goals. Job done, first place in the group.
Atlanta next and somewhat more importantly, the desired route through the next rounds, who cares about the teams you play, but as a fan journeying around, it’s all about the cities you go to, and this was certainly the favourable option.
We continued to watch the other group matches after ours, enjoy the vibes, then mooched on into the night to continue the festivities. Taking note of the city’s restrictions, I made sure to stay out until 4am and arrived promptly for the first train of the day….right?
Friends reunited
On arrival, I met me ol’ mate from the other night. Still chuckling at the city that never sleeps joke.
“Good to see you again pal, sorry if I was annoying the other night, timed it right tonight though, eh?”
“Errrm, it’s Sunday morning, so they don’t start until 5am today buddy”
“You’ve done me there pal”
Love it, can’t write it. In fairness, I was loving life so I could live with it. I had a good bit of craic with the NYPD who were enjoying having the World Cup in town and asking plenty of questions, all great fun and just another lovely interaction that makes these trips what they are. Arguably the day I fell in love with the city, probably says more about me than NYC.
The next round had thrown up the wonderful fixture against DR Congo. The following morning in my pit I noticed the ticket prices dropping and the opportunity to see England in a knockout game suddenly seemed feasible….then I looked at my clothes, souvenirs and other bits and bobs strewn across the floor and decided I couldn’t be arsed packing and I’d chance watching it in a New York bar again, seemed the logical solution.
It’s fucking New York, it doesn’t take much to accept another few days here. In the days between games I popped over to Brooklyn, met up with one of my new amigos from the Panama game and seemingly gate-crashed a Greek party in a wonderful rooftop bar in Astoria, Queens – beautiful views of the most iconic of skylines – feeling blessed to be taken in by the people of the city, chuck in a little Gay Pride festival and it was fair to say I was enjoying every moment.
Next up….The Doctor
More matches in bars enhanced my love of this city before the big one. DR Congo in the last 32. Actually, sounds ridiculous doesn’t it. Midday kick-off, not ideal for me but for once, a blessing for those back home and 5 hours ahead.
This fixture epitomised this competition, two obscure, unconnected nations partying the night before the game in the deep south of America, when else will this ever occur? Never! Literally a unique moment in time. For those who experienced it, it’s a special moment in life that you simply won’t find anywhere else.
Me, on the other hand, I stumbled into an uncharacteristically quiet bar given the timing. Annoyingly this meant I was sober enough to focus on the football. Seven minutes in, Brian Cipenga smashes one in at Jordan Pickford’s near post. Not ideal. But OK, 83 minutes to recover, no need to panic right?
One hour later, still 1-0…..I’m a little more concerned now.
Now I’m lucky enough to have followed England at many tournaments over the years, for a variety of reasons in terms of life circumstances and opportunity. But I would never for one second think that just because I am there that our success means more to me than the next Englishman supporting back home…I would however, say that following a team at a World Cup gives you experiences, opportunities and feelings that you won’t get back home.
In short…I wanna go to fucking Mexico and soak up the atmosphere, and this ain’t quite happening here fellas, my dream is disintegrating before my eyes, we’re all thinking Iceland 2.0. Losing to Congo? Would this be the worst moment in our 154-year history? But I think I earlier referred to the greatest player to ever don the England shirt…..Harry Kane.
The Greatest
This unmitigated triumph of a man nodded home the equaliser past the seemingly unbeatable Congolese goalkeeper and brought the scores level. I can’t lie, there were tears, there was smacking of the bar. This fucking meant something.
After calming down a little, the prospect of extra time and penalties became a realistic fear. It’s not often in life you are desperate for a resolution to a problem, in most walks of life, things are quite controlled and there is usually a logical solution. But when it comes to football, it really can be desperate.
And there he is, 85 minutes in. I can’t superlatise (made up word) enough about this man. From seemingly nothing he rifles one into the top corner. THAT man again. More tears, chaos, screaming, joy……unrelenting joy.
We’re ahead, we’ve had our scare… surely it’s done. Slightly optimistic but I could see the dream playing out in front of my eyes. Injury time… I’m on Skyscanner… flight to Mexico City… $268… flight to Mexico City… $268… Final whistle. Boom, there it is. CONFIRM. The dream lives on, this is what it’s all about.
VIVA MEXICO!!!