It’s safe to say I’ve had more enjoyable afternoons watching football than England’s triumph over Switzerland at Euro 2024.
Gareth Southgate’s men edged past the Swiss on penalties on Saturday to reach the semi-finals of Euro 2024, setting up a date with the Netherlands on Wednesday night (July 10). England, despite the BBC’s half-time hype show, were excruciatingly bad at times.
The nail-biting penalties were, aside from Bukayo Saka’s fine goal, the best part of the entire game. And I had to endure it all inside Benidorm’s ‘finest’ establishment, Vincents Corner Pub. It was over three hours of my life I will never get back. In fact, at times, it was hell on earth.
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To set the scene, I and 11 others headed out to Benidorm on Thursday morning last week for our friend Nath’s stag do. Nath is what people call a bit of a ‘character’. He looks like McLovin from the movie Superbad, and his accent is a weird mix between Scouse and Geordie, so frankly, he’s quite hard to understand at times, even for us.
Thursday and Friday night saw us take in all the Benidorm strip had to offer. On Thursday, we headed out wearing McLovin masks, while Nath went literally as McLovin. The resemblance is uncanny.
On Friday night, we watched Spain and Germany battle it out in ‘The Drop Inn’, which if you’re reading this, I could not recommend highly enough (mainly for the €1 Estrella). The theme of the evening was dress as a Super Mario character, with Nath obviously filling the role of Princess Peach, which left plenty of holiday makers laughing.
There were four Luigis, two Marios, a Toad, a Wario, a Waluigi and a Donkey Kong to accompany Princess Peach across the Kingdom of Benidorm for the evening. However, the best costume went to Dom, for going as the kart from Mario Kart. Bizarrely, we seemed to be quiet a hit with the families of Benidorm, who insisted on taking photos with us. But by the end of the evening, the shouts of “Mario!” began to get old.
Come Saturday, we were all more than a little worse for wear, so we opted to stick close to the hotel, venturing out to Vincents in the blistering Spanish heat. By this stage I felt more leggy than Harry Kane and even less willing to show any movement.
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While the front of the bar, where most of the England fans were sat, was air-conditioned, the back of the bar, where we were sat in the 30-degree heat, was not. A brilliant start to proceedings.
From there, tensions and nerves began to rise. The national anthem was belted out, and we all settled down in front of the dodgy box BBC stream for an afternoon of ‘Southgate suffer-ball’. Come half-time, I was nearly asleep, such was the mixture of alcohol, lack of sleep and lack of a coherent plan from England that once again I had taken in.
And then while spirits inside Vincents seemed high, they were immediately dashed on 75-minutes when the entire bar was silenced by Breel Embolo’s goal for Switzerland. Two of my friends, Dom and Alex, rushed inside having heard from the crowd reaction on the street that we’d conceded, such was the delay on Vincents’ questionable satellite box. All around me people either swore at the TV or sat in stunned silence.
Thankfully however, come five minutes later, none of that mattered when Bukayo Saka scored. Unfortunately, I had the goal spoiled for me on X by user @adamnufc_ who tweeted: “SAKAAAA COME ON”. Due to our delayed stream, I was left keeping quiet so as to not ruin the moment for the rest of the group (bar telling Matt, sorry Matt).
From then on out it was just straight nerves all around. When it got to penalties, I was having major doubts. Will this be the one Cole Palmer misses after appearing impervious all season from the penalty spot? Will this be the one Ivan Toney, the best penalty taker in the world according to Brentford boss Thomas Frank, misses? Will it be heartbreak again for Saka? Will I melt into a puddle before they’re over? And yet, for all the nerves, for all the bad memories of previous tournament exits, none of it mattered.
England scored all five of their penalties after Jordan Pickford saved Manuel Akanji’s spot-kick. And when Trent Alexander-Arnold blasted home the final spot-kick past Yann Sommer, I and around a hundred fellow England fans celebrated sweatily in the 30-degree aircon-less heat.
There were delirious shouts of “never in doubt” and “it’s coming home” as topless revellers shared sweaty embrace after sweaty embrace. Relieved by the result and the fact that we could leave Vincents (whose toilets I’m told were, shall we say, an experience come the end of the game), we took the smart decision to leave immediately, with Fat Les’ Vindaloo ringing in our ears.
As we spilled onto the streets of Benidorm, fans were raucously tooting their car horns, swirling their tops in the air without a care in the world. Walking to the next bar so we could watch the Netherlands and Turkey game in cooler surroundings, the relief on England fans faces was clear for all to see.
So, would I travel to Benidorm to watch three hours of England struggle to make their way past Switzerland in a bar that left me dripping with sweat again? Probably not. But at least it was a memorable experience.