Half-time here in Stuttgart and Spain are trailing by the odd goal to Tunisia. On come Raúl and Cesc Fabregas, useful players to have in reserve. The rain is pouring, the air is cool, and the next 45 minutes should be intriguing.
But more importantly, can the staples in the stomach of Maradona, who is sitting close enough for me to talc his nose, deal with the size of the sausage burger he's chomping?
