The Event Coordination Committee regrets to inform you, the anxious public, that the match schedule for tonight between Caraiman and Noroc has been postponed due to a failure of the Requisition Committee to procure Caraiman despite spending two hours scouring over two dozen stores. The match will be rescheduled for another night as soon as the Luca down the street decides it wants to start carrying it again because all the other stores never even heard of it. We are very sorry for any inconvenience you may have suffered and we hope to make things right soon.

The Organizing Committee also wishes to inform you that Hopfen Konig has been disqualified from the competition and will, instead, be replaced by a heretofore unknown Romanian team called Postavaru in Group G. Also, Balea and Aurora will swap seats into Groups E and F, respectively. That is all.

Saturday noapte’s first leg of a scheduled triple-header featured a tease of the T’s. On one side of the ring was Tuborg, the third foreign beer to qualify for competition and quite possibly the most common beer in all of Romania, which originally hails from recently embattled Denmark. Squaring off against it was Timişoreana the pride and soul of 1718 Temesvar, winner of medals in 1891 and 1908, and self-proclaimed prima fabrica de bere din Romania. Each team arrived by bus to the BraşoDome.

Managed by Graffiti BBDO in Bucuresti, the de luxe beer team of 1895 Copenhagen made sure to promote it’s seasonale theme of “Tuborg, iţi elibereaza imaginaţia!” Translators on hand specified that this meant Tuborg was exceptionally clever in marketing the idea to young men that they could use Tuborg to relax the inhibitions of sexual prey, if not outright get the victim drunk altogether. Oy vey!

Timisoreana, owned by South African giangantocorp SABMiller, countered by promoting its three centuries of heritage when the brewery was founded in commemoration of the Habsburg empire’s brutal crushing of the Turks in 1718 at the experienced (and many say brilliant) hands of Eugène de Savoie-Carignan, who fought on behalf of the Roman church and was wounded 13 times during his efforts to free Hungary from Ottoman rule. God, war, and beer. Smashing!

When it came time for the opening cap-off, officials noticed that Tuborg was running a contest. “Castigi cu Tuby Cap!” So, Spammy was called in to personally oversee the removal of the old-school peel-off bottle-top (with-hyphenation) and thrillingly inspect for cadou. Ba nu!

The action was fast and furious for the first half, with a rapid exchange of sips and gulps as baffled judges sought to determine a difference between the flavor strategies of each team. With distinction being so elusive, an executive decision was made to abandon frozen mugs in favor of simple pint glasses. Once temperatures rose several degrees to a nice cool, the distance between the two teams was microscopic. Timişoreana was noted to have just a slightly hoppier after taste while Tuborg was a bit more watery. However, the big blue T was unable to capitalized on the difference and score any points.

The halftime show captivated a riveted audience with its rather enjoyable bit of Serenity. During halftime most of the crowds headed for the snack bar. So did Spammy.

Once back on the grass, each team tried to score points with their relatively clean and somewhat crisp tastes. While still unable to gain advantage over one another on taste, the two teams were considered to be acceptable light summerbeers by most of those on the sidelines. In the end it was Timişoreana who found a market advantage in cheapness and bopped one into the scorebox. GOAL!

Upset, the Danes called for an instant replay. Spammy was on hand to verify the recommended preţ and ensure no buyers were being ripped off by their local alimentara.

And that’s the way it ended folks. More or less enjoyable but without any devastating excitement.

Final score: Tuborg 0 - Timişoreana 1

Votch owt! Zee germahns arr hier!

The teutonic knights of Holsten came riding into Romania on a black horse from Hamburg. “Gebraut nach dem Reinheitsgebot,” was the battle cry of the jade warriors. Founded in 1879, this “premium bier” (da, in deutschglish) is produced in Pantelimon under the supervision of the German parent company for quality control purposes.

Notice the company apparently cannot spell its own name correctly. Is it a harbinger of things to come? Let’s find out. In the meantime, Holsten needs to learn how to get the details right or else consider a little modesty.

But, oh child, lest we be naive, let us not deny the strange games the golden bears play. Nearly the same age as Holsten, the boys from Ursus were founded in 1878 in Cluj. Recently, they were acquired by SABMiller and now proclaim themselves to be “King of Beers in Romania.” King of Beers, eh? That egoism sounds familiar.

Ursus felt confident about its current promotie offering 6 Ursus-branded beer glasses to 40,000 winning fans who popped a lucky cap, so it aggressively drove right now the field as soon as the top was off. The mere reputation of its liquid refreshment had the Romanian crowd standing on their seats, jumping for joy, and generally in a state of racous frenzy as they anticipated the early kill shot. Exactly when the ball should have gone into the net, Holsten’s intial sip stretched sideways and blocked the shot by the fingertips as the disbelieving fans groaned in agony.

After only a couple volleys of swallowation, Holsten broke away from flaccid Ursus in a Heineken-like move using it’s wonderfully bitter pils approach to blow away the competition and put up the first point on the board as jaws dropped. GOAL!

The halftime ceremonies consisted of nabbing a little sun before it disappeared as the BrasoDome went balcon-style. At a sufficient volume, were the vocal trance styling of Digitally Imported. The listless crowd debated the supposed strengths of Ursus and speculated about it’s potential to wage a comeback try.

Somebody somewhere blew a whistle, so the players trotted back out onto the field. In what might appear on the surface to be a mere coincident, each team presented a clear glass style of play. From all 360 degrees of the sports facility, viewers got to see the two beers had virtually difference in either color or head consistency.

In one of the many blind taste tests conducted by Romerican during Campionatul Mondial de Bere, the expert panel of judges were not confused for even one moment as to which beer clearly had a superior taste. One lone field referee predicted numerous times that the King of Bears’s taste would surely score, but on each occassion the relative merits were rebutted time and again by the black knights.

With no difference between alcoholic skills or rough price points, time came down to the wire. Ursus tried to make something of it’s slightly hoppy flavor, but was ultimately watered down. The domestic favorites tried again with a fruity aroma that got them nowhere. They lost ball control to the honey-pollen flowery nose of Holsten and then the hombres from Hamburg demonstrated their superiority vis-a-vis the red stripes of Ursus bere premium by scoring a second goal based on taste alone. GOAL!

Pissed off beer drinkers across Romania cursed their high resolution screens and started rumors about a possible conspiracy of foreign beer brands having bought off the judges. Back at the BraşoDome, the unhappy Cluj faithful began throwing tomatoes and eggs, forcing security to remove them physically. The poor officiators on the other hand had the unenviable task of recording the details of their decisions down on the field.

Yes, my friends, one has to wonder if I can really keep up with the pace of all this research and documentation. O sa vedem noi. Now that the knight has slain the bear, let’s find that bottle opener for the next round…

Final score: Holsten 2 - Ursus 0

My, oh, my! If you didn’t catch this one live, then y’all sure missed a real Texas-sized humdinger.

Things started out pleasant enough here in the BraşoDome. Freezable mugs were freshly washed and aching to be filled with a refreshing liquid amber. Nectar of the gods. That sort of thing. The judges were admittedly in need of some relaxation after the first match earlier in the day, but The People were demanding a double header. Weren’t you, comrade?

Yes, my friends, there’s been a new beer introducted in Romania last year. In fact, I believe it’s the only new beer I’ve seen from Romania during this period of consolidation which has caused many brands to disappear. Its name is Stejar and it hails from the land of Cluj, where its owners Ursus (aka SABMiller) mimic Budweiser claims about being brewing royalty. Have you tried it yet?

Standing tall on the other side of the field was the green and aur squade of Golden Brau, winners of the 2003 Gold Medal from Bruxelles. Clearly no slouch, this team is owned by bitter rival Brau Union and can be found throughout most of Romania at grovery stores or street vendors.

Once the whistle blew, the game erupted into a shoving match between the two brands as each tried to muscle the ball away from their defensive zones. People in the stadium thrilled to a electrifying contest of competitors with completely different styles battling it out for the adoration of the crowd. Early in the event, Stejar punched in a fiercesome fireball of deliciously sourmash characteristics of its bite. GOAL!

Romanians from the northern regions of Transylvania roared with delight upon first-strike against their southern foes… dancing for joy in a rainbow of gold, black and red. Granted, it didn’t take long for distinctly crisp flavor of Golden Brau to counterpunch with it’s own (and opposite) malti yumminess and deliver a return volley right between the goalposts. GOAL!

All tied up with nowhere to go, the teams headed back into the locker-room for a pep talk from the coaches while the enthralled onlookers took a pit-stop for kebabs and sarmale. An announcer came on the public address system during halftime to inform the crowds about the recent incident of an unidentified person talking smack about Ciuc. She also shared the tipsy details of the triple-header scheduled for Sambata night. Those assembled for the game next turned their gaze upon the jumbotron for a special humorous halftime film entitled Call Center (presented by Cheezy Cheeky) which, in the vein of Office Space, tells the truth about life in a particular work environment.

It took a while for the laughter to subside (euphemism for occassional fits of snickering), but eventually the second half got underway. Apparently, something definitely happened in the locker-room for Stejar during the break, because the team came out on fire with a new price-point strategy of only 1,6 RON that earned them another ball in the net. GOAL!

Cheerleaders on the other side of the BraşoDome were toiling away to work up enthusiasm among the gold and emerald faithful in order to provide a pivotal morale booster to the bottles of Golden Brau. As if the fans were divining the ball through telekinesis, Golden Brau passed the ball around fancier than the Harlem Globetrotters. When they went for the killshot based on the power of flavor, it appears that Stejar had a Stadium Saint looking out for them because the ball went wide after it reverberated off an errant elbow, sending that player out of the game with an injury.

The Brau Union managers were absolutely livid and began harassing the referrees, but it was clear that while the dynamic duo had radically different skill sets the guys from Golden Brau just weren’t able to deliver a second time at this point. Frustration began to set in and once Stejar had the ball again, the roughhousing rekindled in earnest. Stejar hadn’t done too much with the ball when they caused a turnover that allowed Golden Brau a high kick down the center of the field setting up what should have been a perfect killshot, but that pungent flavor worked a little defensive magic and a defensive back slipped in between a pass play and nicked the ball, dribbling up field like someone had slipped a little tabasco into his jockstrap. From out of nowhere, a Golden Brau halfback enacted the peak of aggression with an ill-advised attempt to slidetackle that sent the Stejar player somersaulting through time and space before landing on earth again, losing his cap and enduring a concussion.

Seeing that this was not a mere accident but actually a malicious foul on the part of Golden Brau’s frustrated team, Spammy confiscated the illegal bottle cap remover from the field and issued a yellow card to the offending assailant.

Although time was running out, the Stejar team felt a little revenge was in order but felt compelled to keep their collective noses clean. They decided to use their superior alcohol talent to immediately punish Golden Brau and deliver a message. The boys in green were utterly dejected as they saw (in slow-motion, no doubt) the ball go sailing into the net. GOAL!

At the point, the Stejar fans were stomping their feet and making helicopters with their shirts in celebration. On the other side, the entire situation was completely falling apart as devotees headed for the exits. But before the cars had even left the parking lots, Stejar followed its same tactic of 7% alcohol dominance to sling another nugget in the pot for a back-to-back score, so far unseen in the tournament. GOAL!

Let’s just agree that after this match, the scene was a little… dizzying.

Final score: Golden Brau 1 - Stejar 4

Another historical moment in the Chug Games (as called by locals) came to fruition in the first match up featuring a non-Romanian beer pitted against a national stalwart. Despite insightful and influential advice from a wise owl, the Planning Committee ultimately decided in favor of allowing a few “foreign” beers to go through the qualifying regimen in order to help round out the roster and provide a sense of realism reflecting some actual market conditions on the Romanian brewski scene.

One of the first to qualify was the much-snubbed Skol, first brewed in 1959, which joined Group H in the set’s season opener against lauded Silva, a bere blonda which proudly proclaims itself to be “Genuine Traditional Beer” (da, in Engleza, surprisingly). The favored domestic beer showed up in its trademark white uniform with black & red highlights and brandishing two gold medals it won from a dubious small town near Targu Mureş waaaaay back in 1848 and 1934. Meanwhile, Skol showed up in red and gold outfits boldly offering fans the chance to win “9999$” which we can only assume means a buck shy of USD$10K. Of course, derisive fans waving Silva flags were quick to jibe that folks only buy Skol in hopes of winning enough money so they can “afford a better beer!”

What may not be known to many beer aficionados is that Team Skol is owned by The Carlsberg Group and managed by international powerhouse Saatchi & Saatchi (uh huh, they’re twins). Interestingly, Skol’s freshness is supposed to be valid for 6 months, but in Romania the bottles are clearly labelled for 12 months validity. No doubt some of the hostility for this so-called “Value for Money” brand derives from the disrepectful way in which Romanians are expected to suffer with older beer than other nations who sell Skol with more freshness.

Alright, people, let’s drop the sportsradio chatter about factoids and statistics: it’s game time!

Once again, the well-respected referee Spammy was on hand to oversee the opening kick-off inside the closed-roof of the BraşoDome as the rain fell by the bucketfull outside. After an initial scuffle, Silva controlled the ball for majority of the first 10 minutes of play passing back and forth, frustrating the Skol team. Silva masterfully set the pace for domination with it’s slightly-hoppy tones that lingered just after swallows to drill the black and white into the net. GOAL!

The enthusiasm of the Romanian witnesses was overwhelming; they erupted into a chanting session. “Pa pa, Skol! Pa pa, bere rau! Pa pa, Skol!” The Silva mascot on the sidelines worked the audience into a furor and got most of the entire stadium doing the wave. But things got a little borderline obscene when the jumbotron focused on five rather portly fans who proceded to lift their shirts up and reveal the Silva letters painted on their ample guts in an around matted fur.

And then it happened.

Just before the half, Skol took the wind out of Bucureşti’s sails with an fairly decent use of a relatively good earthy flavoring to pound in a score, silencing the crowds. It was immediately challenged by the Silva staff, but after instant reply the judges upheld the decision down on the field. GOAL!

The halftime performance was an unusual hiphop-inspired breakbeat jam session from the normally wonderful mix of house and chill on Beat Blender, broadcast by groovy online streaming specialist SomaFM. The slammin’ vibes kept the crowd entertained without disturbing the entire neighborhood. Event organizers decided that with the subsiding rain (and despite cool weather) that the BraşoDome should partially open up into a balcon-style arrangement.

During the second half, each team worked the tasting fields back and forth in a gallant display of determination while encased in frozen beer mugs much to the delight of the judges who tilted their heads back a goodly number of times as part of their due diligence to determine the intricate specialness of each team. Spammy noticed that the officials were getting a little sloppy as they were increasingly unable to find substantial differences between the two competitors whom each had an interesting flavor to bring to the table.

With the crowd on the edge of their seats, resting on pins and needles, and clinging to a faint sense of hope for a miracle, Silva suddenly broke down field to shoot on goal with their fruity nose, but the ball went just wide of the mark. After only a minute, Silva whizzed across the grass yet again, this time trying to score a point based on superior alcohol content, but it just wasn’t quite enough to overpower the defense. Just seconds before the end of the session, the gold and red uniforms blazed a beeline for the opposing net and confused their domestic opponents with a cost differential move and planted some leather in the corner pocket. GOAL!

Stunned by the last minute upset, angry fans stormed the officiating booth and tried to start a riot but the jandarmeria put down their gogoaşi and came to the rescue, flailing the people with batons like a scene straight out of a WTO meeting.

Final score: Skol 2 - Silva 1