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Budapest Blues
I never liked football.
But, I gladly accepted a trip to Budapest for an England-Hungary
match. I liked Budapest very much. And, Budapest wasn't far from
Vienna where I was living.
The match was a waste of
good time. Just what I'd expected, But, I joined in with the fun,
and, when England actually scored, I cheered with the rest. But,
apart from this very small very high moment, the whole thing was
boringly slow.
Then, after an age the
game finally finished. England had won. Now, it was time to move on
for what I had come for. A very long night in old Budapest. But,
there was one little problem. Aunty and Uncle and their Union Jack.
And, their Union Jack almost cost us our lives! It happened going
back to the coach.
Our coach was parked in
the middle of a big open space. And, this big open space was full of
Hungarians who were hanging around and weren't very nice. And,
Aunty and Uncle were waving their flag. And, they were with us.
Aunty and Uncle. Two friends of ours. They had come for the match.
And, why they were known as Aunty and Uncle, I never found out.
And, the Hungarians, too,
were showing their feelings. They were angry and looking for
trouble. And, the Union Jack didn't help. Then came the loud black
ugly whistling. The Hungarians wanted the flag. Grabs were made for
the flag, but, Uncle refused to let go. The situation was rough.
But, we managed to get back to the coach and were quicly on board.
Then came the missiles.
Bottles and cans and
stones, and so-on. Everything throwable. I felt sure the windows
wouldn't survive. And, the shouting and hissing were deafening and
threatening. They were telling us to go home in a very bad way. It
was frightening. Then, things began to get worse!
We felt the coach
starting to rock. The crowd was doing their best to turn our coach
over. Luckily, we were too heavy. Meanwhile, the jeering and
shouting and the black ugly whistling continued. We were stuck fast
in the middle of aggression. Neither forwards nor backwards. The
crowd was seeking revenge and they were determined.
Then, not a moment too
soon, an army of long black leather coats came out of the dark.
Then, as if following an unspoken command, the crowd started quitely
dispersing. We were free to go on our way. It was now a strong
drink that was definitely needed, and the British Embassy bar was a
blessing. My first Scotch was a triple, the next two as well. I met
some old friends. Had they been to the match? Certainly not! And,
at the other end of the bar, Aunty and Uncle were being toasted as
heroes. Saving the flag and all that. Stupidity speaks for itself.
And, on the way home the
next day, Aunty and Uncle took their seats at the back of the coach.
And, there was the Union Jack. Flying full mast across the back
window. The victorious English on their way home. The Union Jack. A
very bold statement. One-zero from a penalty shot; and a flag that
hadn't been captured.
And, I had a touch of the
Budapest blues. Too much fun, too many whiskies, a night that had
turned into morning, and, a match I will never forget. A very close
call.
Budapest, a long time
ago.
