AUSTRALIA v Japan

You know that advert where some Aussie blokes hate the sun and try to find somewhere dark to drink their beer? The one where you think silly advertisers, that’s not right? Well they may have a point.

There’s nothing Aussies like better on a hot, sunny day than to pile into a huge dark venue with no windows. And drink large quantities of beer.

I knew west London’s huge dark Aussie venues better than is perhaps good for your health, having lived more or less next door to a couple of them for a few years each. And my cavernous Aussie barn of choice for the Japan game was the one closest to my heart: the Redback in Acton. I had, after all met Pat Cash there (thoroughly nice man, by the way).

But if you’ve been paying attention to my adventures so far, you’ll probably have noticed that my Plan B is often better than Plan A. Undoubtedly so on this occasion. The Redback was closed.

Thankfully Plan B was just up the road in Shepherd’s Bush and we got to the Walkabout in plenty time to see our hosts go behind to a dodgy goal from Celtic’s Shunsuke Nakamura. It was a goal whose dodginess elicited a predictable response from the huge Aussie crowd, who let their displeasure be known with great volume.

The action was unfolding on TVs around the venue, and one huge screen at the back of the room above the stage where I remembered watching second-rate rock bands several years before.

It was a good, open game, with Australia perhaps a little more enthusiastic in their tackling, and any injured Japanese players getting short shrift from the local crowd. I did wonder if the fans – and players – still hadn’t quite grasped the gulf in acceptable tackling between football and their preferred sports.

It suddenly occurred to me that this might be a bit of a local derby, but was told that no, it wasn’t. The big rivalry is with their final group opponents Croatia, but I was assured that it was all very friendly. Then an announcement rang out: “Next Sunday, the Socceroos against some sh*t team called Brazil,” and a girl shouted “W*nker!” when former Aussie boss Terry Venables appeared on screen. I marvelled at the Aussie ability to appear friendly while hurling abuse. The Croats had a lot to look forward to.

The second half carried on the way the first had finished, with Australia failing to create any real scoring opportunities, but the crowd still enthusiastic. I knew they could be more enthusiastic though, and so it proved with the game’s incredible climax: Tim Cahill drew Australia level – the crowd went wild with delight – Cahill gave Australia the lead – they shouted themselves hoarse – John Aloisi made it 3-0 – the beer started to fly through the air, joining the assorted inflatables that had been a feature of the game.

Having broken my two-pint rule again, we left the Aussies to shout themselves hoarse and spill booze while we stumbled blinking into the sunlight and headed up town to try and find some Americans.