It's funny how a stadium's character can reflect that of a city. Melbourne, the hotbed of sport in Australia, has the cauldron that is the MCG, oh so efficient Munich has the impeccable Allianz Arena, old complex London has a new complex Wembley and as we learnt recently, chaotic and concrete dominated Bangkok has about seven National Stadiums, all of them made out of concrete.
So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Hanoi, a city with a distinctive European influence would have a stadium which looks like it was cut out of the manual for how to build a European football stadium. My Dinh National Stadium is light, modern stadium which while it seems to be located in the Hanoi's version of Glen Waverley, very much does the job.
Goughy had a liking for the stadium before he had even been here, with My Dinh one of his favourite things along with My Lunch and My Brekky. I liked it because from about mid-distance it looked like two versions of the Flemington grandstands facing each other. (Flemington doesn't have a portrait of Ho Chi Minh, but it might be something for the VRC to consider).
It's also set in acres of open space, a marked difference from Rajamangala in Bangkok which is surrounded by chaotic suburbia, encased in concrete.
The one missing element from this game could be the crowd. Only about 5000 Aussies were expected to have made the trip, while the amount of travelling Japanese fans was uncertain.
About an hour before kickoff there were about 20 people in the stadium, and 11 of them were Socceroos. Ten minutes out the number had increased to about 3000, (No Socceroos this time, about 400 of them Japanese media). Well, it wasn't exactly a full house, but it would have to do.
With the PA turned up to 11, at least the national anthems were well heard, in fact they may have heard it in Ho Chi Minh City. As the last bit of sun disappeared into shadow on the far side of the pitch, it was game time.
For the first 67 minutes, it was like watching a game of chess. Slow build ups, everyone taking their time, the crowd absorbed into a game played at the speed of a hungover game of bocce.
But as the first bolt of lightning cracked over the back of the stand on the other side of the ground, chaos took charge. The game seemed to crack apart. Aloisi goal, Milligan has an airy, and, in golf parlance, would like a Mulligan, Takahara pounces, Vinnie closelines him, ref loses his mind. Aussies down to ten men, all in the space of seven mad minutes. It was like a thunderstorm.
Then back to normal, well as normal as can be expected. Aussies put nine behind the ball, Japan presses forward, more thunder rolls, yhe wind gusts, the rain is surely minutes away. After 90 minutes, the market is framed. Penalties $1.50, a tropical downpour $1.33 The rain stayed away but the penalties didn't. Harry and Lucas miss, as does Takahara, Schwarz can't save the day. We're going home