The highlight of the entire fast and furious trip was to watch Manchester United taking up the challenge at Luhzniki Stadium in Moscow.
I felt plenty of pride when I saw a bunch of Red Army before St Basil’s Cathedral, singing, chanting, cheering, jumping and I just so much wanted to be part of it.
I shyly asked to take a picture with them, and they answered with such vigor that it was as if I didn’t have to ask, cos my jersey made me part of the family. I thought I would stand beside them, and I was pushed righ to the front to block the banner. Bah.
Fortunately, many of those who were in the city were English (their accents get my panties wet lah.. I mean, hello! Robert Pattinson is English, ’nuff said), and there were no language barriers. For Russians, just hold their gazes (applicable only on Russian dudes).
And someone who read this space sent me a message post-trip to ask me if it was me she saw at Red Sqaure. So, that shows how SMALL the world really is. Someone from Singapore to actually see me at Red Square. She had thought it was impossible until she saw my entries back then.
Our meeting place post-lunch was a small hotel next to the less glamorous part of Moskva River, and time just couldn’t pass fast enough as I paced up and down, blogged, made small talks with a reporter from Africa and contemplated on mugging him to get his pass. There was an ardent Chelsea supporter, whose wife bought him a Drogba jersey.
The traffic to the stadium was better than I had expected it to be, littered by road blocks and road diversions, but since the bus was an official one, we had no problems to drop off near the entrance of the stadium. The moment I got off, I think there was 5 seconds I totally blanked out just to ask myself, “Am I really here now?”
I thought I must be kidding myself.
I didn’t care it was drizzling and getting chilly in the open.
Plus the fact that it was the first time I was at any foreign stadium besides the Kallang one, it just screamed out majestically at me.
We first had to while time with the food and programs at the Champions Village, where we stuffed our faces with exquisitely displayed food, and watched the pre-match commentary on the big screen all over the village. In the village it was separated into different zones according to the tags we wore, and our zone ran out of the programs.
I remember just checking the place out for it was one big party under one roof, and trying to snap up some tees/caps in the process.
I remember some chaps made random conversation as I walked pass their table, “Hey, I think you will look really good in blue, shall I get you something in blue?”
“Oh, if you insist, I could use it to wipe the spill on the floor,” I replied with a big, wide grin.
The table laughed, and tsk tsk, no way I could look good better in that shade of blue than my red and I know it.
We managed to ask someone else from another table to help us to get another copy of program, and the suited man gladly obliged. If he missed the look of gratefulness on our faces, he must be blind.
Finally the moment came for us to leave the warm tent to walk in the drizzle towards our seats. The road was flanked by red, printed Canvas, that led us to the sea of red and blue, slowing funnelling through the security.
I passed a lady with an all access pass.
Do you know what that means? I could mug her and get her tag, and I can go into the changing room and demand whoever who had spare energy post-match to make babies with me. Or if I am a little more chicken, I could just steal their underwear and start my million-dollar (yeah, right) E-bay empire.
Okie, I didn’t, and I was law-abidingly seated in the stadium. I got dizzy the moment I went in to the half-empty stadium, with the spirit of the game already thick in the air.
Ladies and gentlemen, Moscow Luhzniki Stadium, 2008. Manchester United V Chelsea.
The game only started around 10ish in the night, and I had tears in my eyes when the red half of the stadium showed me what it was to BELIEVE.
Despite a good view, I wish I was there with them in that crowd, to be part of it. I am not bias, but the blue flags left by Roman Abramovich on the blue side of the stadium was an impressive move, but when the word BELIEVE surfaced, there was no match for it.
All of us were psyched during the opening ceremony, and me getting better acquainted with the chaps I had laboured the tasks to help me take pictures (I am severely scared of steps, thus I get really giddy and panicky to turn my back towards the stadium to take pictures).
The jolly men in the picture above are from London, and the one in the suit is actually Paul, and despite who he is, he was the nicest person I have met during the trip.
And then, the teams were led out. There was the kick off. I was very, very, very, contended already.
Nothing prepared us for the next few hours of emotions yo-yo.
The crowd erupted at the 26th minute when the first goal was scored. We hugged practically everyone in sight but the lack of replay means sometimes the reaction is a little delayed. When Chelsea levelled before the half time, our hopes were still high.
But us fans were left biting our nails for most the 2nd half, and through the extra time where the ball hit everywhere but the net. Chelsea was gaining composure and they were beginning to look more likely.
And then came the Drogba slap and we shouted out at the injustice with hands in the air, demanding for an action. Despite the distance, I saw the slap and I was like, “Hello?! Did you see that? Did he just slap him?” Pardon me, but I didn’t have the luxury of television replay and shouting like a hooligan like any other person around me was fun!
It was as if fate has a hand in the play.
Then came the dramatic penalty shoot-out that I believe no fans could ever forget.
It was a dramatic end to a thrilling game. And boy, who can forget?!?!
We took the lead in the shoot-out and everything was perfect till the 3rd shot for the team which Ronaldo fronted.
We all know the controversy around him, and his penalty miss would magnify the taunts and all. That was exactly what happened, and the blue fans around us were quick to rub it in.
For the next 2 spot kicks by Chelsea, we were clenching our fists, crossing our fingers, and just hoping they would miss. They didn’t.
We did all we could with the 5th and final spot kick. 4 out of 5. We had no say. Now all Chelsea needs is to score the last spot kick. Their captain John Terry took his position.
A miracle can happen, I prayed. It did in 1999. Still, I was too chicken to watch it.
I remember hiding behind the manly shoulders and sat down to catch my breath. I turned away, waiting for the left side to erupt into cheers, though still hoping.
It was utter silence for a split second, as if for everyone to absorb, before I turned to see that the ball wasn’t in the net. The blues were not jumping. The reds erupted and I did a Heineken-style (the walk-in wardrobe ad) scream and hugged everyone in sight.
Terry. Missed?! OMG, we are in the game! We are alive!!!
The next shot slipped in perfectly,and when we held our gaze to will the ball when Anelka took his kick…
.. the moment we had been waiting for happened when Edwin van der Sar saved the shot.
I got so excited that I didn’t manage to snap the moment and just jumped up and down in my boots with CFM heels, and hugged everyone in sight.
The silence from some of those around us was an awkward reminder of us seated in a zone of mixed fans. They had tears in their eyes and were devastated and we had tears in our eyes from the exhilaration. We shook hands for a magnificent game.
And I called Sharon from Moscow to hear her scream down the phone. Only 3 words were spoken.
“WE WON!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
We broke into We are the Champions, and all sounded tone deaf as we tried to scream it out.
Pride. Glory. My dream came true. I was prepared to have my heart broken in case they didn’t, and I didn’t know how much it would have felt until they had won.
Right after they did their victory lap round the stadium, it was time for me to don my condom-like raincoat and head out of the stadium towards the waiting bus that would bring us back to the city-centre.
It was 2.20am already. We half jogged in the pouring rain and as we congratulated some and consoled some on the bus, the journey back was a quiet one where all of us soaked in the reality and chewed on the experience. I know I was smiling.
On the journey back, I realised it was my only chance with Moscow at night, and it was pretty.
I showered, packed, and it was almost 5am, and the sky was gradually lit.
By the time I changed and all, time to head to the airport for my flight.
Goodbye Moscow, it was a pleasure.
I left Moscow in the heavy rain, and with help from the chauffeur whom I hugged for being an absolute sweetie.
There were people sleeping on the floor at the gates, cos hotel rates were sky high and even money couldn’t guarantee you a room.
Got my little momento from the guy with red lips and light-blue eyes.
I met Edwin at the airport since we were on the same flight.
Did the usual stopover at Dubai and I was knackered.
I wrote the below on it:
Chapter 4
I am now on my flight back to Singapore, after we had stopped over at Dubai.
I was so tired that I was asleep before the flight took off, woke up for my meal, and fell asleep again before they cleared the tray.
And I was pretty pissed with myself that I missed my ice-cream and hot tea. Grr.
Nonetheless, this must have been the most amazing journey of my life, and it is worth every freaking cent I splurge on.
Oh oh, and did I mention that Russian guys are soooooooooooooooooooooo cute? Yum yum. Like seriously, before I left for Moscow, I thought Russian guys are going to be a big disappointment.
But NoooOOooOOOoooOO…
Very hot lah!
Somemore the weather was becoming reaaaaaaaaalllllly cold over the past 2 days, and the only things that kept me warm was their hotness and piercing blue eyes.
Sorry, as you can see this post is not typed by me, but my hormones.
The best part?
Because of the match, there were tons of military police around, and because of the time-constraint, the only places I have been to are places I probably would see lots of them.
So, the best thing is….. most of them are dressed in uniforms. Yuuummmm.
And some of them have such chiselled good looks that my heart goes pom pom tiao.
And oh, there is this particular immigration officer (I chose his lane cos he is cute hahahaha) that made me blush, like really blush and feel the hotness in the face.. nevermind, I will talk about that in another post soon!
And though they never smile, but their eyes, ohmygod, the eyes, can talk.
Sometimes, you could see a faint smile eluding from the ends of their mouth.
When one of them was checking my match ticket, he very nicely wanted to put it back into my tag holder for me, and insisted so though I had said it wasn’t necessary.
Sooo sweet. But not cute.
I am going to miss Moscow chaps. Awww…
Well, I am now over the Gulf of Omar, and heading towards Mumbai, then bypass Yangon, before we reach Singapore.
I am on this flight by myself and I awe myself that I didn’t even request for a handset for the KrisWorld.
Though I am just wondering when dinner is going to be served, like…. seriously, WHEN?!?!?!?!?!
All I see now out of the window is a spot of light on the wing of the aircraft, litting up the pitch black darkness out there.
It is great to be home soon.
Especially after such a fulfilling trip, which has been awesome in so many ways.
So now, time to finish up some work. Cos with the flight delay, most likely I am going to be rushing to work from the airport.
I rushed from the airport to West Coast for work that morning (cos I was involved with the planning and setting up, thankfully colleagues helped me covered some to fulfil my dream), killing myself in the sweltering heat, sat through an 8-hour meeting, before running up and down the entire West Coast park with a game of laser quest.
Dinner. Then mahjong.
I think it was one of the rare times I really did doze off, like I-don’t-remember-what-happened kinda dozing off.
As for the cute chap. Giggles. He was an immigration officer with the longer queue line, and I did honestly choose his lane cos he was cuter.
I mean, it is easier if they ask you questions and in case you get impatient, you always have a reason to stay polite, you know what I mean?
He glanced up from the side, and blinked his big blue eyes at me, asking where was I heading.
He smiled just so briefly to show he was friendly. He looked at my name and tried pronouncing it. His lips were pink and moist.
A line was forming up behind us as we made small talk, and he asked me to the back of the booth where his door opened up, right before a queue of impatient traveller.
I ended up taking off my scarf and he giving me his cap.
We held our gaze for the longest time as I walked to my gates and trying to ignore everyone’s raised brows as he took his time to serve the next passenger.
Since everything was checked in, I had no where to carry the cap.
And I still remember how he looks. But I was so charmed I don’t remember his name.
And that, concludes my Moscow trip which taught me how to BELIEVE again, and sometimes we just need a reminder like this.
It also kick-started the free-spirited traveller in me that I don’t plan and just go and see where the places lead me to, cos the element of surprise thrills me.
Last but not least, I am mightily proud of my team, which has shown me over the years that no one is indispensable and the team will always come back stronger.
