POLAND v Ecuador

There may be many thousands of Poles in London, but the recommendations I got made it pretty clear that one venue stands head and shoulders above all others: The White Eagle Club.

And it seemed every Pole in London had the same idea as me, as they marched down Balham High Road swathed in flags and scarves to the huge venue, its car park full of Polish flag-sporting cars.

I’d got there on the stroke of kick-off thanks to the Northern Line, there was a large crowd milling around the door and I realised I was unlikely to get in. My worst fears were realised when I got to the door, only for the evidently worried lady there to tell the bouncers “no, we can’t let anyone else in”.

I started my plea in the worst possible way: “I’m not Polish…” I hadn’t had much choice; she had addressed me in Polish, a language in which it is stunningly difficult to get by if you can’t speak it. Then I followed it up with the best possible word: “but…” and some rambling nonsense about how I was there to support Celtic players Artur Boruc and “Magic” Zurawski.

Understandably exasperated, she let me into the side bar, where I was told the game would be on on a small screen. I said that was great, before wandering into the main bar. And what a barn of a bar it was. Almost the length of a football pitch itself, and filled to the rafters with passionate Poles. If I’d seen all the Costa Ricans in Britain earlier in the afternoon, it seemed I was now sharing a huge room with all the Poles in London, New York and Warsaw.

Then I tried to buy myself a drink, only to discover I would have to go to the side bar to fill in a membership form. The price to pay for not speaking Polish, I suppose. The side bar turned out to be not a bad little venue; it was also full, and passions were running high. But I got myself a bottle of crazy-strong Tyskie and sneaked back into the cavernous main room.

The action was taking place on a huge screen, but I was having trouble following it, with so many people in the way, and the commentary (which I couldn’t really hear anyway) courtesy of Polish TV.

The Poles were taking their first game more seriously than the Costa Ricans had. They expected to beat Ecuador and knew it was a game they couldn’t really afford to lose. The chants were loud, and I’m sure people would have been swinging on the chandeliers if they weren’t so high on the vaulted ceiling.

So Carlos Tenorio’s opening goal didn’t go down too well. But the atmosphere was lifted in the second half. I was convinced that Poland had equalised when the room erupted into huge cheers and it wasn’t until several minutes later that I realised they must have just hit the woodwork, when I noticed that the score hadn’t been updated on the screen, and the atmosphere was less than jubilant. Then Agustin Delgado added Ecuador’s second, and the noisy post-mortem kicked in.

Not a good night for Polish football, but on the positive side I did manage to pick up a couple of mini Polish flags.