Chips from vending machines. Accommodation so bitterly cold I slept in my pyjamas AND my clothes. A grand yet austere Bucharest, the outskirts of which hosted the Christmas Day execution of Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife. Transylvania. I VANT TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD. Romania. I’m sorry Romania. So so sorry. But please let me redeem myself.
Interestingly enough – or perhaps not at all – Romania is one of only two locations in which you can still get a McChicken Premiere. And it is over a McChicken Premiere that you should be planning your trip deep into the heartland of Transylvania. We are so conditioned that the mere mention of the place conjures up a feeling of foreboding, of darkness, perhaps even of the eyes of a painting following you wherever you are in the room. But there’s more. Beautiful countryside, Medieval towns, and the castles. Man, the castles.
And what castles would be better to visit than those of Vlad Țepeș . Of all history’s naughty boys, Vlad was pwopah nawty. This was the Middle Ages – hardly the age of moderation of forgiveness when it came to battle, but even amongst the general cruelty of the age – Vlad Țepeș stood out. When visiting Turkish envoys refused to remove their hats, Vlad had their headgear nailed to their heads so that they could never remove them – and that was just for starters.
Take The Night Attack – Țepeș’ cruel, crowning glory. Though his assassination attempt on the life of the Ottoman sultan failed, he perhaps had a greater impact in failure than he might have done in triumph. For it was when Sultan Mehmed II and his men tried to track down Vlad, that they came across as many as 20,000 of their fellow soldiers – impaled on spikes inserted into the anus, through the body, and out through the mouth. You can enjoy the finer points, fantastically worded here…
Vlad’s method of impaling was to impale his victim, possibly using a stake that was thin at the top and grew thicker gradually, and pierced through the victim’s anus. Upon entry the organs would be shoved aside by the stake and the bowls pierced, allowing for bacteria to enter and torture the victim(which takes up to two days to die from alone). If done right the stake could be forced out of the victims mouth where they would have lived for a few hours or days in this position, helpless and writhing in pain.
USA '94
Following on from the Danes’ magical triumph at Euro ’92, it was England-free USA ’94 that gave rise to the great underdogs on the world stage. That World Cup was truly wonderful preparation for Euro ’96 (“the Greatest Summer Ever”TM) and one I still remember fondly as being bathed in constant sunshine as Diego Maradona went apeshit and I kicked a small leather football around in the garden after yet another McDonalds Hattrick burger. Two of the little-fancied teams that came from absolutely nowhere, or more accurately, the Balkans, to lodge themselves in the glorious compendium that is my collection of footballing memories.
One of those teams, was Romania. Ten years on from France in 1984, Adidas had done it again and provided an absolute belter of a kit. A template complemented perfectly by the Romanian tricolour and worn with distinction - especially by one Georghe Hagi. For all the talent that Romania possessed, it was Hagi that truly inspired, and it was with the stunning 3-2, second-round victory over Argentina that he – and Romania – truly announced their arrival.
In a welcome departure from the typical, anodyne footballer interviews so common nowadays - Hagi does not shy away from the disappointment of the Romanians’ defeat to Sweden in the quarter finals of that tournament. One even goes so far as to wonder if he even still talks to Florin Prunea, the goalkeeper whose mistake led to Sweden’s extra time equaliser - and to the penalties that ultimately did for Romania’s hopes.
Be that as it may, that vintage Romania side that will always be able to point to their fine, flowing performances; and their part in a World Cup that is so fondly remembered.
No comments:
Post a Comment