Two weeks ago, shortly before midnight in Durban, where Germany would later lose to Spain, I encountered two white men and a black woman in a hotel elevator. The two men were wearing England jerseys, and the woman was scantily clad. It had been a long day of football, and the Englishmen had apparently started drinking beer early on. That day, I had watched the Netherlands wrestle down Slovakia at the magnificent stadium in Durban, and I later saw Brazil defeat Chile in the fan park on the beach. I was ready for bed. The trio in the elevator couldn't decide whether to get off or stay on. Finally, one of the men jumped out and pulled the woman with him, while the second man and I continued riding the elevator upward. He was teetering precariously and fell on his backpack between the third and fourth floors.
"Where are you from?" he asked from his position on the floor.
"Germany," I replied. "Sorry, I know it was a goal."
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