Ashwin Raghu: Chennai

The 9.30 PM start gives us enough time to stock up. My fellow armchair warriors arrive, grins of anticipation on their faces. They called up to confirm their coming, but they needn’t have. It was quite tacit, understood. For these two hours, nothing else is important. This again, is tacit. Our faces are pursed up, solemn as the television discusses strategy and plays unknown national anthems. Opening game score line bets are placed. The beers are opened. And the game is on.

Dhoomketu: Mumbai

Lots of goals but uninspiring football. Pre-match lack of hype matched by anti-climatic result. If it wasn’t for a self-professed Mandira Bedi of football and beer, the first match would have been boring. I was watching the first match with a bunch of colleagues from work at our guest house.The highlight of the evening – Mandira started making comments like, "Isn’t the off-side rule unfair to the linesman?" or "Why are there only 11 players?" Only matched by Kahn’s reaction to Lehmann letting in the second goal.

Saswati Bora: Washington, DC

I reside in a country where the football World Cup implies a sport where players neither use the foot to hit the ball, nor have more than one country playing in the World Cup. Thankfully my friends and colleagues make up for the lack of local enthusiasm. At work, my male colleagues had done the game-by-game, group-by-group analysis. My female colleagues had circulated powerpoint presentations on the eye-candy in each team. And I contributed to office harmony by playing mediator when my French colleague refused to share his work space with a Chinese colleague after Cisse got injured in a China game.

On the day of the first game, I decided to watch it with friends at the office of an international organization next door. The place was so packed, we saw only one-eighth of the giant television screen in the first half. A female friend arrived all shaken. She took one look at our room, saw the healthy gender balance, heaved a sigh of relief and proceeded to tell us that her suave, sophisticated male colleagues by day were actually cavemen with football! Being one of the two women in the testosterone-filled room was clearly intimidating.

The game was not that exciting. But the nice generous folks from the American television networks gave useful information that greatly enriched our geography knowledge. (Bet you didn’t know that Costa Rica is the size of New Hampshire and Vermont, huh?)
When the score reached 3-2 there was a buzz of excitement – will Costa Rica manage a tie? The underdogs had their share of supporters, but the spectacular long-range shot by Frings was enough for people to call mama and say it’s over.

Sidin Sunny Vadukut: Mumbai

So for the first time in five FIFA World Cups I was not there to see the festivities of the inauguration and the tournament opening match that followed. Since 1990 I have fought with the TV antenna, battled with the cable-wallah, declared war with my cousins, roommates, dormmates and classmates to make sure I nary missed a single kick, dribble or, gasp!, goal.

But this time I really had to drop off a friend at the International Airport here in Mumbai and a friend was bestowed with the responsibility of giving me blow-by-blow updates about the match.

I was standing outside gate 2C reading the list of items forbidden in hand baggage when the first call came.

"Germany scores the first goal of the World Cup Sid."
"God! So quickly? Whitewash?"
"Maybe. Call you later." Click.

At this point two thoughts came into my head. One: if Germany whitewashed the Costa Ricans it would be a pity. I vehemently support the underdogs. And two: who in their right minds would want to carry Bows and Arrows in his hand luggage? Also if you are the sort of person who carries a bull-whip or dynamite on a plane, please do not. You are
not allowed to in India. (I know. What a let down.)

Thankfully the Costa Ricans equalized. (Good for them!) Then the Germans scored again. And finally by the end of the night the game had ended 4-2 to the Germans. The highest scoring opener in years and years and I had missed it completely. But what the heck! At least I was aware of item number 64 that could not be carried on a plane: "Martial Arts". WTF?

Fungus: Mumbai

God bless whoever invented the mobile phone. I was seeing off a friend when it started. I knew I would miss the first 15 minutes but I didn’t expect to miss any goals. So it was with trepidation that I answered the phone as a friend’s name flashed. "Goal," he screamed. "Goal," he screamed again six minutes later. I had missed the fist two goals of the World Cup. But I had it better than another friend who had to stay at the airport a little while longer so I decided to let him know just what he was missing. I would call him every time someone scored - six times - and would tell him what happened and how it happened. God bless whoever invented the mobile phone.

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