I should have seen it coming.
The first words out of Paul’s mouth as soon as they panned to the Argentine sideline the morning of this game were, “Oh, it looks like Maradona got a haircut.”
We were in Chicago and made the stupid mistake of deciding to watch the second half of the game in the cafe on the first floor of our hotel instead of in our room. So we take the elevator down, me with my blue and white striped cast blazing openly, and walk in to a big room…full of Germans. Most with face paint. I get booed all the way to my standing-room-only corner, where I spent the next 45 minutes listening to “JAH JAH JAH JAH JAH!!!!!” and German songs while Argentina completely lost it. I exited the room at the end of the game to a chorus of “Auf wiedersehen!”s.
Worst. Game. Ever.