As a reporter at Euro 2008 you’re only as good as the team or teams you are covering and after Sweden and Romania’s elimination from the finals, I was the first of the Reuters team to pack my bags and go home.

It was disappointment tinged with relief as the call came after Sweden’s defeat by Russia. Exhaustion was beginning to catch up with me, so my own bed in Brussels was a very attractive offer.

So what did I think about Euro 2008? It was very enjoyable. I met lots of people, learned a lot and crated many memories … oh yes, the soccer was ok too.

Two of the most interesting, but bizarre, lessons I learned were:

Firstly, if you leave the electronic key to your hotel bedroom next to your mobile phone in your pocket, it won’t work when you get back to your hotel at 1am and you have to wake up the owner to let you in.

The second thing is that first class and business class mean two very different things in Austria and Switzerland when you travel.

Let me explain.

On a train trip to Innsbruck to cover Sweden’s defeat to Spain, I was sat next to Dimitris Varotis and his 18 year-old son Dante. As you might expect by their names, they are Greek, or American of Greek extraction to be exact. They had both travelled from Pittsburgh to watch Euro 2008, taking in Spain and Portugal’s games. “The Greeks are boring and have had their day,” Dante, who prefers soccer to baseball and American football, told me. Soccer truly is a global game.

My insight into Austrian and Swiss levels of travel came on the return journey. Amid a packed first class section, a Japanese photographer, who had sat beside myself and my new U.S. friends on the outward journey, recognised me an invited me to sit with him and four of his photographer friends. in a very comfortable, Orient Express style booth.

But then a burly train inspector came up and told us to get out. “Business class is not first class in our country,” he snapped.

The five photographers looked ashamed, angry and upset all at once. The inspector then demanded 50 euros from them to stay put. They said they could not afford that. I intervened and in my limited German pointed to the small print on our accreditation, which was in English and which I had for some reason read beforehand, that stated we were in fact allowed to travel in the compartment once it was not an overnight sleeper.

The inspector quickly moved on with his tail between his legs and I became an instant hero in Japan.

Darren Ennis, Brussels

PHOTO: A Sweden fan reacts after defeat by Russia in Innsbruck, June 18, 2008. REUTERS/Michael Dalder

From a tiny second division Portuguese stadium to the luxurious surroundings and facilities of an Alpine sports centre, Greece are feeling like true defending champions at the Euro 2008.

The atmosphere, however, is not nearly as happy as it was in Portugal.

Four years ago when Greece settled in Vila do Conde, a sleepy seaside town in the estuary of the Ave river north of Porto, noone, including myself would have ever dreamt that a few weeks later coach Otto Rehhagel’s men would be crowned champions of Europe.

The surroundings certainly did not point to that.

The early morning training sessions were attended by only a handful of reporters, security was almost non-existent and there was seemingly no pressure on the players.

We would park our cars metres from the stadium entrance, wait there for the team bus to arrive, chat to the players as they got off and as they signed autographs with the few security guards, and then we would make our way to the concrete stands to watch the training.

Afterwards, in a makeshift press centre consisting of a table and a few chairs for the coach and some players and a single light bulb, the press conference would be under way, lasting essentially as long as we would like. All 7 or 10 of us.

Then, sometimes we continued talking to the players on their way to the bus. They were just glad to be at the tournament and were enjoying themselves.

With no sockets in the stadium to plug in my computer, I would always had to walk out to the parking lot and file from my rented car.

As the tournament progressed and more media turned their attention to Greece, all of us who had been with the team from the start were given unofficial privileged access with information leaked out only to Greek reporters or myself, who by that time was having dinner almost nightly with the Greek FA people.

After Greece beat Portugal in the Euro 2004 final, captain Theo Zagorakis even brought out the Henry Delauney trophy just for us to take pictures with, hold it, even kiss it if we liked. We felt we had also played in the final — and won. That was how close we had gotten to the team.

This time round, the players enjoy perfect, yet isolated, training conditions in a five-star environment near the picturesque village of Seekirchen, north of Salzburg, with a large modern media centre for dozens of reporters who watch the team’s training daily. Security, refreshments, snacks and sponsors’ gifts abound for those who want them.

But for all that, the atmosphere in the press centre is far from jubilant, especially after Greece’s defeat in their opening game. Players and coaching staff have clammed up and news nowadays trickles out only through official channels.

Maybe a win against Russia could help lift the spirits of the team and give us a bit of that unadulterated fun we got used to four years ago.   

Karolos Grohmann, with the Greek team in Seekirchen

PHOTO: Greece’s head coach Otto Rehhagel checks his watch during a practice session in Seekirchen, June 4, 2008. REUTERS/Calle Toernstroem

For most football fans, it would be a dream come true — go along and meet your favourite player and ask him anything you want.

That is the deluded view that led me to be excited when I was sent to my first “mixed zone”,  where players are available for quick interviews as they walk past reporters when leaving the stadium after a match.

Bruised and battered from a lot of tactical shoving and suffering from a severe overdose of testosterone (not ideal when you’re a woman), I’m thinking more war zone than mixed zone.

Elbows fly as dozens of hungry newshounds battle for position in the hope of getting a juicy quote — or most likely yet another tired cliché — from the player of the moment. You have to pick your position: avoid standing next to a cameraman (that’s a big bit of equipment to be hit with, trust me I know) and avoid anyone who may have dubious personal hygiene (you are going to get very close to them).

Then all you have to do is get the players’ attention while they saunter past looking like they really can’t be bothered.

One cunning ploy that I have noticed several times, particularly by radio and television journalists, is to bring along a beautiful woman (who definitely didn’t spend the last 90 minutes cramped in the media tribune hunched over a laptop) to act as bait to hook the player for an interview. Once they have reeled him in with a few pleasantries, the men ask the ‘proper’ questions.

I look on enviously, wondering why I have my nose up someone’s sweaty armpit, a dead arm from holding my dictaphone at an impossible angle and cramp from standing on tip-toes in the middle of the big huddle of reporters. Oh, and I can’t breathe because I am crushed against the barrier that keeps the poor footballers out of harm’s way. Thankfully, I’ve got a quote.

Forget elbowing and barging, next time I’m coming armed with some sharp stilettos…

PHOTO: Czech Republic’s Michal Kadlec listens to journalists’ questions after a training session in Seefeld, June 4, 2008. REUTERS/Petr Josek

For full coverage of Euro 2008 see here