Last night's opening match took place in one of several spanking new stadiums that will be used this month, but there was no disguising the second-hand nature of the chants that rolled round the Allianz Arena. Germany's celebrated football culture promised to be one of the highlights of the tournament, but the songs in circulation last night were almost all rehashed versions of English terrace songs.
Most blatantly, one of the World Cup anthems is a remake of Football's Coming Home. This was first appropriated with supreme irony by German supporters at Euro 96, who used the song to rub English noses in their victory at Wembley.
It has apparently stuck, and the remake, with English lyrics, is likely to be played before all matches. The 56,000 German fans packed in last night joined in with vigour. (Those in England who've spent most of the year telling fans not to use the W-word will blanche at one couplet in particular: "Now we're going to war and we've done it before.") Go West has also been appropriated (as in "4-2 to the Deutschland").
One original element is the crowd's habit of accompanying the stadium announcers as they run through the team. Each surname is bellowed by the fans, a racket that parts your hair when they get to "FRINGS!"
All this could not disguise the fans' lack of faith in the team, doubts which explain the absence of atmosphere for periods of the game. No one here is quite sure how bad Jürgen Klinsmann's team are, and the unease when Costa Rica equalised spread to the players. For now, however, they are a happy nation, humming tunes made in England.
Meanwhile, having been promised the best organised World Cup ever it has been refreshing to have few stereotypes about German efficiency shattered. For all the predictions our hosts are demonstrating an unexpected capacity for cock-up.
Arrangements for the opening game were at times shambolic, with supporters queuing for hours to get through rigorous security checks at the gates. The station at the Allianz Arena is not finished, and the barren concrete walkways that lead to the stadium leech most of the enthusiasm away from supporters faced with delays and a hike to the ground. Security is clearly a priority but arrangements will have to be speeded up if the good-humour on display thus far is to remain.
Media arrangements also provided us with ample opportunities to exercise our boundless capacity for complaint. My colleague photographer Tom Jenkins was subjected to a bag search that the US secret service would have considered excessive, and a lack of desks, not to mention power points and phone lines, left some of us discovering exactly why its called a laptop.
None of these minor gripes can detract from the privilege of covering a World Cup, particularly one that starts with an opening ceremony as gloriously absurd as last night's. The show embraced the national stereotype with an enthusiasm that would have shamed the writers of 'Allo 'Allo, flooding the pitch with hundreds of lederhosen-clad Schuhplatters, the dancers whose coordinated heel-and-thigh clouting was more impressive than anything produced by Klinsmann's side.
They were followed by Pele and Claudia Schiffer carrying the World Cup trophy. This was the Brazilian's first appearance in some years without a sponsor's logo visible, though he did appear to be wearing a morning suit. Schiffer was unphased by the tail coat and Pele looked delighted to see her, though it may just have been the complimentary sample from Pfizer in his pocket.
They were followed by the Kaiser, Franz Beckenbauer, the president of the Republic Horst Köhler and the other president, Sepp Blatter. Here the crowd that had lapped up the cowbells at least restored faith in their judgment, roundly booing the Fifa chief. Impervious as ever, he smiled benignly as if it were applause rather than derision cascading down from the stands. On an evening of stereotypes, Blatter was not going to disappoint.
