SOUTH KOREA v Togo

I tried to find a specific Togolese venue, I really did. But when their only entry on the Africa Centre’s database is their embassy, and that’s in Paris, it’s not easy. I’d kept my eyes peeled for their cool flag in areas frequented by other Francophone Africans, but I was having no joy. So all my hopes were resting on the Africa Bar in Covent Garden; again.

They assured me they would definitely be showing the South Korea game, so I donned my well-smart Togo shirt and headed down there. I wondered how many fans would be joining me. I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high. Probably just a few.

As I strolled through Covent Garden I spotted a few South Korea fans. I wondered if they would see my Togo shirt and kick my head in, Tae Kwon Do-style. But they seemed much too nice for that. And as far as I know there’s no specific South Korea-Togo.

And as I turned the corner for the Africa Centre, I realised I had stumbled across a Korean hotspot. There were young red-clad fans all over the street.

I slid past them and down into the Africa Bar, which was even more deserted than I had feared: my only companions were my fellow country-collector Jesse, from the Angola game, and the Eritrean barman.

I got myself a bottle of Tusker and joined them as the game kicked off anyway, hoping for a late surge of Togolese interest.

But after 15 minutes it became clear that it wasn’t happening and, although we were having a nice time, I decided to crank the fickle factor up to maximum and switch allegiances during the game.

I left the bar, changed my shirt, regretted not bringing any earplugs, and stepped into the pub across the road. It was full of young Korean fans and their crazy enthusiasm was impossible not to love. It soon became evident that they were almost definitely the most enthusiastic fans in the tournament.

At times – many times – it was like listening to the crowd at a Take That concert. High-pitched screaming greeted the slightest bit of action. When they made a tackle in their own half, they screamed. When an attack disappointingly headed for the corner flag, they screamed. Fouls, clearances, misses, substitutions, shots, bookings, saves, attacks, opposition attacks and Togo’s opening goal were all greeted with varying volumes of wall-to-wall screaming, starting at ear-piercing and going up. Covent Garden’s animal life ran for shelter and put its paws over its ears.

The only event that wasn’t rewarded with screams was a wild gesticulation by their manager Dick Advocaat, which drew embarrassed giggles from the fans.

At half-time we moved to a much bigger basement venue, which was just as full of red shirts, and twice as loud. And then Togo’s Jean-Paul Abalo was sent off and South Korea equalised. They screamed. Loudly. Four times. Because every replay is greeted with the same level of enthusiasm as the goal was the first time.

And then South Korea took the lead. The place went absolutely wild and I sustained a slight foot injury in the celebrations.

After the final whistle the celebrations spilled out into Covent Garden Plaza, where rain was now falling in sheets after the last few days of scorching heat. The wild, red-shirted celebrations attracted the same levels of passer-by bemusement that Holland and Portugal had on Sunday.

And a pleasant young lady gave me some nice free Korean food.

I just hoped I’d be able to find a few Togo fans before they got knocked out.