The DadLadTour (Now Actually In Switzerland)

Day 3 (Part 5) – Bern. La Roja…Le Azzure…and some coloured cards..

The Match – The Italians come up against the Spanish

11^th July 2025

Liam presses the can into my hot hands. The beer is delicious and cold. We sit and sup.

Fans pass by us. Not unexpectedly, we see many, many Italy and Spain shirts on the people going by. The new green Italian away shirt is very nice; it is the first time have seen it and it is a cracker.

There are also a lot of other nationalities on show – the red of Switzerland is commonplace, German shirts appear in a variety of designs, England white dot the crowds. And there is an awful lot of club shirts too. Roma, Juventus, Barcelona, Real Madrid – shirts that you would expect given the two nations playing tonight. I see many German clubs represented; Bayern, Dortmund, Leverkusen. I search for the green of Borussia Mönchengladbach – a place, and team, close to my heart, though that is a whole different tale – but do not glimpse it. Shame.

A garish tiger-striped monstrosity appears. It seems at least one Hull City fan is out there. There are also shirts that I do not recognise. No doubt many from teams that play in Switzerland and other European countries. It seems that tonight’s crowd will be comprised of fans from every club and nation. Good stuff.

#SonInLawNo1 makes a FaceTime call to #DaughterNo1. I pop my head into shot once or twice. #WifeNo1 and #GranddaughterNo1 appear briefly on screen. I wave hello and say something that is instantly forgettable. I return to my beer while Liam chats and shows the girls back home the scenes we are part of.

A man in a Spain shirt comes close to me.

“Ey,up, lad!” The Spanish shirted fan exclaims. “It’s reet good to see a Bratfud shirt out ‘ere. Never thought we’d see one. Your’t first! Good on ya, lad.”

He’s about my age and obviously not from Barcelona, Madrid or anywhere else in Spain. I’d guess he’s from Laisterdyke, or maybe Wibsey. Very possibly he’s from Buttershaw. From somewhere closer to Valley Parade and my neck of the woods than the Camp Nou anyway.

He seems delighted to spot the Bradford City shirt I’m wearing. When packing for the trip I decided to “fly the flag” as it were, and I brought along my City top from the 2012-2013 season. It is one of only two City shirts that I have kept – I got rid of all the others when I couldn’t abide the thought of anything claret and amber related.

But I couldn’t bear to part with this shirt though. It had too many great memories. Not least because Gary Jones wore it during the two seasons – was it only two? Jones made such a massive impact in such a brief period – he played for my club. Two seasons in which Jones etched his name into Bradford City history. God, I love Gary Jones!

Spanish Bratfud and I chat briefly before he returns to his family. Liam has finished his call.

“Are those toilets?” I point towards a bright blue three-sided structure standing among the milling fans.

“Are those men having a wee?” I ask. ( I may have actually said “piss”, but this is a PG rated blog, don’t forget. So I have toned it down.)

It looks as if the “Blue Loo” is a sort of “get in-get out quick” type of temporary urinal designed for use when large crowds are gathered. Not a bad idea, I concede. Although, surely it would be better sited away from hordes of onlookers able to witness pretty much everything. As I say, it’s a novel idea that could benefit from a better location. And, also, some hand washing facilities.

We don’t use the “Blue Loo”. Even after a belly full of canned beer.

Next up, we’re after a Maddli plushy. Maddli has proven hard to find at the two previous grounds and cities. Sadly she proves just as elusive at the Wankdorf in Bern. The chap in the UEFA merch kiosk did say he thought that the mascot was still available at the games held in Basel. Such a shame that St. Jakob Park is a mere 100km away.

A quick check of the UEFA site shows she is out of stock online. And already going for silly sums on auction sites. So, no Maddli to take home to Emilia.

Into the Wankdorf – which I must confess is a fabulous stadium – and we find our seats. Then, yet again, I am down to the front on flag duty.

I hang it right behind one of the corner flags. It is tied securely to the fencing. (Only later, during the game when stewards are using it, do I notice that I have tied the flag to a gate. And, if I had tied one end just a few inches further to the left, then the gate would have been inoperable. Ooops! Naughty GrumpPa.)

Again I make the internationally recognised “please take a picture of the DalLadTour flag” gesture. This time directed at the security chap standing nearest. He declines. I ask him again. Another no. Booo! I lean over the fence and take my own snaps.

But I feel the flag has, now at its third stadium, achieved “peak prominence”. This feeling bears fruit later.

I send pics of the flag and the view from our seats to the girls back home. That way they know where to look for us if the cameras happen to come our way.

La Roja and Le Azzure match starts.

Italy don’t seem nervous. They’re not going to”gung-ho” at the reigning World Champions but, neither, do they appear to be scared of them. It is, as we had hoped, proving to be a good match. Cut and thrust from both sides. Some great skill on show. Especially from Spain.

Italy attack. They have a corner.

Suddenly we both get the same message in our WhatsApp family group.

“We’ve seen the flag!” Bethany announces.

Sarah sends a picture. There it is, loud and proud, The DadLadTour flag on live television. Being beamed all over the world.

I must admit….it was a really good feeling!

Ten minutes in and Italy go ahead. Liam and I are out of our seats and cheering loudly. Going a tad manic if I am honest. As neutrals tonight, we are simply intent on enjoying the match. We know that the teams on display will provide excellent entertainment.

Spain are level just four minutes later. Again Liam and I are up. Celebrating wildy. People around us look a little perplexed. Just who are these two eejits supporting?

Enjoying ourselves, perhaps too much, we begin to flash our cards in reaction to the action on the pitch.

Mexican waves start. I do not like Mexican waves. I didn’t like them when they first appeared at the 1986 World Cup in, yep, Mexico. Annoying darn things. Yet, they seem to be, if not a staple, then certainly a favourite among crowds at women’s football.

After each waves passes over us, like tawdry tsunamis of terrible tat, I leap from my seat and show a red card in the direction it came from. A young man and woman are sat to my left and they laugh each time. But they take part in each waves. When the wave next passes over, I card it as usual. Then I flash the red at the smiling woman as she is in mid-wave motions. Her smile fades and I feel guilty.

Still standing, I raise my arms outwards and touch my forefingers together. I move my arms horizontally, shoulder width apart, before drawing them down to my waist. I then close the rectangle I have drawn. I have called for VAR. I take back the red and, instead, issue a yellow to the woman. Her smile returns.

That steward from earlier opens the flag draped gate and comes up the steps. I jump up and red card him. That’s for not taking a photo, I think.

He looks at me as he passes. He’s clearly puzzled. And a little annoyed. Then he must remember me. Oh. It is that fool from earlier. Him with the flag. His frown changes to an almost smile.

Phew! I think. Nearly got thrown out then. I scale back on the cards at that point.

Meanwhile, it is 1:1 at the break. Spain are so impressive but, despite them clearly being the better team, Italy are doing well. The Italians have given a good account of themselves and look dangerous on the break. They give the Spanish some scares.

We receive another picture. It’s not too clear but you can see Liam and I in the crowd. Just. My claret and amber hooped shirt is easy enough to see. And, of course, you know it is me as I am (probably) the only man in the whole of Switzerland, certainly the Wankdorf, wearing a Bradford City 2012/13 shirt tonight.

La Roja are simply exceptional. They go ahead early in the second half before grinding Le Azzure down. Italy will be thankful that they, along with the Spanish, are already in the quarters. Tonight’s match-up will only determine which nation finishes first and which in second place.

A third is added in the 90^th and the game is up for Italy. Four minutes of added time are announced. Conscious of not missing the final train back to Genève, I retrieve the now famous DLT flag.

#SonInLawNo1 and I are off as the game enters in final few minutes. Our footy viewing at Euro 2025 has come to an end. But not our adventure…

…for, unbeknownst to us, we are about to meet the Five Finnish Funsters.