First, let's get the emotions out of the way. A 2-0 scoreline does little to impress the outrageous nervousness of the situation. When the first of those goals is scored in the 83rd minute and, if it were not for Mr Terry of Chelsea, would have drawn the game.
Holy mother of God.
Now for the good bit. I watched the game in Sugarcane, a Trinidadian restaurant on Flatbush Avenue. Being 6'5 and coming straight from school's closing ceremonies I was the English guy in the jacket and tie. Nice.
Luckily a few of Listmaker's friends had grabbed a table near the big TV at the back. Drinks and the best damn chicken ever.
200 Trinidadians and their friends singing and banging every kind of drum and whistling whistles, a dance party at half time (nice touch) and me.
Me, occaisonally shouting out "COME ON ENGLAND!" We really need some funkier songs.
I managed to succeed on several fronts.
I managed to come away with a victory.
The old lady whispering friendly death threats turned out to be an empty vessel.
Best of all, I managed to do 'The Crouch'.
I did 'The Crouch' in front of 200 Trinidadians and some of their friends.