Game 1: Netherlands v Senegal Al Thumama Stadium

Al Thumama Stadium before The Netherlands v Senegal match

After watching about half an hour of the England v Iran game, a sizeable chunk of which was taken up by treatment for the Iran goalkeeper after a clash of heads with his own defender, the continuous replays of which drew louder and louder gasps of shock from all around the bar, we decided to make our way up to Al Thumama. We got a cab from the plentiful supply outside the hotel and were at the ground within 20 minutes, having passed a giant digital billboard informing us that it was now 2-0 to England.

Al Thumama is designed to represent the “gahfiya”: the traditional cap worn by men and boys across the Arab world. It is an impressive sight rising above the low-level housing that surrounds the stadium, but as we were to find on our visits to other stadiums, there was very little in the surrounding area.

As there was little else to do, and because we were slightly sceptical about how well our digital tickets would work, Kay and I decided we might as well head into the stadium complex to see the end of the England game.  As soon as we were through the ticket and Hayya checks and security, which all went rather smoothly in the end, the first thing we saw was a tent offering complimentary team flags. While I am way too much of a football traditionalist (stuck-in-his-ways football snob?) to participate in these sort of things, Kay was straight over to secure herself one each for both Holland and Senegal. Amazingly she wasn’t alone as most of the locals had done the same and got at least one of each, in some cases several. In the end we saw England run out 6-2 winners and make, from what we saw at least, a more than acceptable start to the tournament.

Once inside the stadium itself we decided that as it was an evening kick-off, while there was no proper beer we might as well treat ourselves to a Bud Zero and pretend. As is often the way in the early games of these tournaments, the service was a little chaotic as the event staff get used to how things work, but we got what we wanted and were in our seats ahead of the start of the pre-match entertainment. As it was dark, the fire and light show around a giant inflatable World Cup trophy was very impressive, although we did wonder what British and European health and safety officials might have made of it!

As the game got underway, we settled back to enjoy it. With yours truly having spent some time growing up in Rotterdam, I felt fully justified in counting myself as a bona fide fan of the Oranje; whereas the vast majority of the rest of the crowd seemed like they were there for the event rather than any real connection with either country, or indeed football. This was a feeling that we would continue to have over the rest of the next four games.

While not there in significant numbers, as we had discovered in Moscow, the Senegal fans are insane. From the seven “letter men”: the guys who paint their bodies white each with an allocated letter spelling out the name of their country, to the brass section, drums and never-ceasing choreographed dancing, they were incredible and created a real atmosphere right throughout the match. There were splashes of orange around where the Dutch fans were, but not for the last time the inescapable feeling was that this was an event for Qatar to show itself off, for local people to attend in a similar vein to an Olympic Games and that real fans were only tolerated as there was no way of keeping us away. At the end of this match, we were treated to the first interesting attendance figure with the crowd being reported as 41,721 in a stadium with about a quarter of the seats unoccupied and with an official capacity of 40,000. This would continue through all of the games we attended.

About 20 minutes in Phil and Roger turned up after having had all sorts of fun and games trying to get over from Khalifa, they informed us it had been a decent performance by England but, as impressive as the original main stadium was, it was slightly spoiled by a running track around the perimeter.

The Dutch ran out 2-0 winners thanks to two late goals: one from Cody Gakpo 6 minutes from time, and then another from Davy Klassen in the 9^th minute of added time (extended periods of injury time were another feature of this tournament). We had left the stadium by that stage as Phil and Roger had arranged to meet their taxi driver a couple of streets away. The system set up to guide fans towards taxi and public transport options made for little flexibility in going any way other than the official route and as a result Roger tried to rearrange meeting the cab driver, ideally at the official taxi pick-up point. Although this involved walking across scrubland and deeper into the surrounding residential streets, we eventually found it, although the driver then called Roger to tell him that all the streets were blocked off and he couldn’t get through. With the pre-planned ride out of the question we then tried to arrange an Uber.

After a number of attempted and then hastily aborted bookings, including one who Roger could see on the map on his phone was no more than 50 metres away, but who claimed he couldn’t find us despite the four of us standing and waving on the island in the middle of the road, we decided to try to bargain with the loitering “unofficial” cabs. After being quoted some ridiculous prices, Roger finally managed to locate an Uber driver in person, and we were finally on our way back to the Best Western.

This time even though it was a different bloke on the door, there was no issue with passports and in we went. The place was packed, if it is possible to be beyond standing room only, then this was it. We eventually found a perch just to the side of the bar and settled in to watch the rest of the USA v Wales match. Thanks to the more relaxed approached to smoking indoors, ie it’s permitted unlike most of the Western world, three of us were more than happy but poor Roger suffered, eventually resorting to holding a paper napkin over his nose and mouth.

During the course of the match Phil got the news that Paul had landed but was in intense negotiations with border officials to actually be allowed through. It has to be said that all four of us struggled to concentrate on the game any further as our thoughts were with our missing companion. After another round of beers, as much to try to take Phil’s mind off things with his son-in-law being given a grilling at the airport, we decided to head home. The four of us crammed into the one cab and were safely back at our gaff in quick time.

Paul finally gets a resolution

To our utter amazement, when Phil, Kay and I returned from popping out for a smoke break, the reception staff informed us that our friend had arrived. We knew that Roger was already in the apartment so this could only mean that Paul had finally been allowed into the country and was now here!

Sure enough when we got back upstairs, there was the final member of our squad. Paul gave us the full story that had involved trekking round the various terminals of Heathrow, spending an evening in the Travelodge, finally being allowed to board a flight and then the long conversation that finally convinced the Qatari officials to approve his Hayya Card. The rules of “what happens at the World Cup stays at the World Cup” prevent me going into further detail of exactly how he wangled his way in but the rest of us were mightily relieved that he hadn’t been sent straight back home, or that we weren’t having to call on the British Embassy to negotiate his release from the airport! Now the adventure could really get underway.

Game 2: Argentina v Saudi Arabia Lusail Stadium

With our party now complete, it was an early start for the second game which was to kick off at 1pm local time. After all the fun and games with cabs the previous evening, we decided to consult our Hayya apps (yes Paul actually had one by now!) about how to get to Lusail Stadium by public transport. It seemed fairly straightforward with a 20 minute stroll down to our local Metro station and then a straight run through to the ground itself. Although rather unhelpfully (not something that was especially unusual in this tournament!) the suggested route informed us that the stadium was closer than it actually was. Thankfully, we realised when we were the only people looking to get off in town that we may have made an error.

When we got off at the handily named “Lusail”, you could actually see the tournament’s flagship stadium, although we were then led on a merry half hour walk past and then round the back of the complex to actually gain entry.

Lusail City is Qatar’s second largest city, although construction only started in 2006 and it has not yet been fully completed. It looked almost space age and our route covered part of a wide, very European-looking boulevard.

Once we finally reached the entry point and made our way in, Phil was pulled to one side while the rest of us made our way through smoothly. When he finally emerged, it transpired that he had been taken to the ominous sounding “Flag Evaluation Zone” for a closer examination of his flag of St George with a tribute to a recently passed friend and of course emblazoned with “Newcastle United and Toon Army”. Thankfully none of this had been adjudged to constitute political messaging!

Phil and Paul show off Phil’s “officially evaluated and approved” flag at Lusail Stadium

In further flag-related news, Kay was devastated when she approached the Complimentary Flag tent to find that they only had Saudi flags left. Considering those supporting Saudi Arabia (including Phil who had very deliberately worn his Newcastle 3^rd choice shirt as it very closely resembles a Saudi one given the ownership of his beloved club!) made up the majority of the crowd, it seemed as clear an indication as any that in the world of modern football fandom where star players, in this case Messi, are supported more than individual clubs or nations.

Lusail Stadium, or as the organisers would like us to call it “Iconic Lusail” would be the venue for the final and is certainly very impressive, very much the equivalent of newly developed stadiums in Europe. It is a large bowl and even though we were in the fifth tier, the sightlines were still excellent.

It was a strange game overall, Argentina took the lead in the tenth minute thanks to a Messi penalty and probably should have been 3 or 4 goals to the good at half-time: having a total of 3 goals ruled out, albeit correctly, for offside. Meanwhile Saudi Araba couldn’t even muster a shot before the break.

At half-time, the general consensus amongst our group was that there was only going to be one winner, little did we know! In the opening 8 minutes of the second period Saudi Arabia turned the game completely on its head. First Saleh Al Shehri found the back of the net with a low left-footed effort that Emi Martinez in the Argentina goal probably should have done better with, and then just five minutes later Salem Al Dawsari put them ahead winning possession on the edge of the Argentina area and then rifling a brilliant effort into the top right hand corner. Virtually the entire stadium erupted, with the exception of the sections occupied by the official Argentina fans.

Such was the pandemonium that one of the group of Indian lads sitting in the row in front, who had spent most of the game up to that point Facetiming a whole host of his friends showing off his Argentina face paint, asked one of his mates to wipe off his make-up before then re-calling all his friends to show them his Saudi Arabia flag. At the risk of sounding like even more of a football snob, I am not sure how well that would have gone down back in England.

Try as they might to raise their game and get back on terms Argentina just couldn’t find the breakthrough, thanks in no small part to some resolute defending from the Saudis. After the match we headed back to the Metro station with the help of the plentiful volunteers whose megaphones told us through an automated message: “Metro, this way!” or “Metro, straight!” on an almost minute-by-minute basis. This was to become something of a feature for the rest of our trip.

We got off the metro at West Bay, pretty much central Doha, and headed for the Shamrock Tavern located within the Magnum Hotel, which had been recommended by one of Phil’s friends. As we made our way down one of the wide boulevards that wouldn’t have been out of place in Vegas, LA or any other major US city, Paul and I spotted a huge bar facility clearly branded all over with the Budweiser logo. We couldn’t help but wonder how the stadium beer ban may have affected their marketing strategy, certainly that bar looked deserted.

Once we arrived at the bar, this time only on the second floor, we had to pay 200 Rials (about £45) each to get in but our annoyance was somewhat tempered when we then found out that our entrance fee entitled us to four drinks each, the prices were therefore basically the same as in the Irish Bar at the Marriot. Much to Roger’s relief there was a separate smoking room in this bar. They had a “Genuine Irish Pub Menu,” so we all ordered something to eat and watched the tail end of the goalless draw between Denmark and Tunisia.

For the next game between Mexico and Poland, Roger introduced us to the “pass the beer mat” game in which you pass a beer mat onto the person next to you every time the ball goes out of play. At the time we were all keen to pass it on as quickly as possible fearing the forfeit we might have to pay. At the end of the match yours truly was in possession, but I was very pleased to learn that the penalty would be a tequila shot, if I had known that at the beginning I would have planned on keeping hold of it for every match!

As it was starting to get a bit late and we had all used up our allocated drinks, we decided to head back to the apartment for the 10pm game between Kay’s team France and Australia. Roger of course assured me that my “prize” would be awarded to me the next time we were in a bar.