Midnight Mardi Gras Bitcoin Dice

bitcoin dice

 

 

 

Unless you hail from Argentina then Wednesday night in Frankfurt will stay with those present a long while. From the storm that split the stadium’s hi-tech textile roof to the spectacle of a canteen full of journalists erupting with the cry of “HUTH!”, there was no shortage of memorable moments.

 

The most indelible memory, however, came hours after the final whistle as waiting reporters checked their watches mindful of deadlines, column inches and airtime that needed to be filled.

 

Suddenly the bowels of the stadium were transformed as a samba/conga train consisting of the entire Brazil squad was led by Roque Junior, Dida on drums and Ronaldinho on tambourine in single file from dressing room to bus and on to a hotel party.

This snatch of carnival was the brainwave of their shrewd yet gregarious coach Carlos Alberto Parreira, who brought up the rear in almost comical concession to the quote quota demanded by reporters still too stunned to realise the ruse had denied them any words from the all-but-musically mute players.

 

Such non-synthetic ebullience and glamour was what the German organising committee could only have prayed for as they look for their promotional bandwagon to peak by the same time in 2006.

 

“Over-organisation gone mad… the logical result of combining FIFA with this country” was the view of one anonymous Kicker magazine scribe of his own compatriots and their approach to the tournament’s overall organisation.

 

Still, somehow the rhythm of Brazil had prevailed and put the uber-bureaucracy, the roadblocks – email das purist via soccerphile.com if you want to know the German for road rage – the confiscation of prize-winners’ rival-sponsored clothes for the day by McDonalds staff, all the translation snafus and even the likely doping let-off for Mexico in …