THE 2010 World Cup is upon us, and because veteran local businesses rarely get their full due, this week I applaud Britannia Arms. Saturday’s much-anticipated battle between the United States and England will be one of the highlights of the first round, and there are perhaps no better local establishments at which to view the game than the three Brits—Almaden, Downtown and Cupertino.
In fact, just contemplating the scenario drives me to recall 20 years’ worth of World Cup stories at Britannia Arms. During the 1990 World Cup, England eventually made the semifinals—the nation’s best showing since it won the whole thing in 1966. For the quarterfinal match against Cameroon, Britannia Arms on Almaden was packed to the gills. It was the first time an African country had reached the quarterfinals, and except for a few Cameroonians off in the back, the entire place seemed to be filled with Brits.
When the Africans scored the go-ahead goal, the Cameroonians stood up and cheered. The rest of the bar turned around with sneers on their faces, but all was peaceful. Everyone got along. Eventually, the Brits came from behind and won in overtime. The place came unglued.
For the semifinal against Germany, the Brit was jammed to capacity. During halftime, on the large screen, the owners played Act 4, Scene 3 from the movie of Henry V, where Laurence Olivier recites the St. Crispin’s Day speech. At least half of the folks in the bar seemed to narrate along with Sir Laurence, especially these lines: “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.” And on and on.
After the speech, an earsplitting “ENGLAND!” roared throughout the restaurant, pint glasses raised on high. It was downright moving. I developed a new respect for Shakespeare, and the experience reinforced my view—ingrained from watching highlights on PBS as a little tike—that nothing anywhere compares to the poetry, splendor and magnificence of the World Cup.
Watching that World Cup at the Brit transported me to an exotic paradise amid the monotonous tract-house subdivisions of south San Jose. England lost, but things must be placed in perspective here. Twenty years ago in San Jose, there weren’t nearly as many places to watch the World Cup—or follow the results—as there are now. There was no World Wide Web, and most American sports journalists were belligerently anti-soccer. The daily paper even came to the pub hoping for riots when England played Ireland but was disappointed. Everyone got along.
The 1994 World Cup was the only one ever in the United States and still reigns as the most commercially successful one, including the games at Stanford Stadium. In a now-legendary story, rock superstar Rod Stewart made an appearance at the Almaden Brit. A call came from L.A., informing the owners that the entourage wanted to fly up for a game at Stanford and that Stewart wanted to hang out with fellow Englishmen somewhere.
“I’m still drunk from that one,” said Michael North, one of the Brit’s owners. I was not there, unfortunately, but as North tells it, Stewart had breakfast at the Brit, and then the entire party boarded a private bus to Stanford Stadium for the Brazil/Cameroon match. Framed photos still grace the wall at the pub.
I could go on, but instead I will conclude with what I guess is a dose of modesty. I viewed most of the 2006 World Cup at the downtown San Jose Britannia Arms. That year, the Cup took place in Germany. Four years ago, this Saturday, the USA played the Czech Republic at 9am our time. The Brit opened early, and American fans gathered. Eventually, Channel 11 showed up and tried to get me on camera after I’d already downed two Bloody Marys, but I peacefully declined to be interviewed. I didn’t want to deal with them. I just wanted to watch the USA, which lost anyway. Long live the Brits!
