Belarus 2..Wales 1
Welsh World Cup hopes started (and some say finished) in Minsk against Belarus.
Our foreign correspondent, Adrian Colley, was there.
The female official at Minsk airport checked me up and down and looked at my passport photo. There wasn't the ususal icy stare from an inscrutable penpusher. She then snorted with laughter at my picture.
Not that I blame here, the snap makes me look like Mr Bean, but it was a sign of the down to earth friendliness of the Belarussians that a public official could react in such a way.
Everyone in Minsk was similarly amenable. We were friendly in return. Too friendly. We came bearing gifts. Paul Jones in particular ensured another desperate start to a campaign which when the draw was read out you thought: "Hmm, we could finish bottom, but I wouldn't want to rule us out of coming close to qualifying."
I'd worried that Minsk would be wall - to - wall porridge grey tower blocks.
It's not beautiful by any means, but given the Second World War's ravages and the fact that it's been built in fifty years to house two million people, it couldn't be much nicer. Imagine a city the size of Birmingham, filled with greenery and well constructed multi-storey tower blocks that would put Glasgow to shame.
Tree lined avenues dominate the city, the roads are quiet, and the people are friendly and forward without being pushy.
All you preconceptions are challenged. The stadium is esquisite - a mock Greek arena with salmon pink walls and comfy seating. And tickets were only 12p (we're all getting a refund from the lovely FAW).
You've all seen the game on TV no doubt. A couple of rare forays by Giggs caused consternation, Savage worked hard and made up for his rotten effort against Brazil and I thought Melville had an excellent game.
But the root cause of what feels like perpetual woe is that you don't know who's going to muck it up next. Which player will make an error so ridiculous that if an England player did it. it would be the talk of the tabloids every day for a month?
Against Italy at Anfield, it was Coleman, against Finland in March, it was Crosseley and Blake.
This time it was the least likely suspect. At least Jones, I reckon, is entitled to make a mistake for Wales. Having witnessed his heroics in Copenhagen, the best keeping display I have seen, he is forgiven.
And once the error comes, it seems like the entire defence, irrespective of who made the mistake, stick their chins on their chests and get the jitters.
The feeling in the stadium among the forlorn 50 Welsh fans was that it could have been worse and it would have been a travesty had we snatched a draw in the final seconds.
The home fans were certainly panicking after Speed's goal as we looked quite purposeful for the first time in the match.
As for Bellamy's sending - off, we were in the wrong place and few of us saw it. All you can say is that the ref was pretty close to Craig at the time.
For the only time in umpteen trips abroad I came close to being glad for an opposing team who had beaten us. There was none of the communal singing of 'Auf Wiedersehen' a la Nuremburg ( why are the Germans such lousy winners?) and several home fans even offered apologies for their side's victory. I can think of no country in the world where home fans would even consider doing this.
Gracious in victory, they could teach Manchester United fans a thing or two. So, big up for Belarus. If we don't make it, I hope they do. But that's as likely as my passport pic making me look like Brad Pitt.
Highlight:
Lovely people, beautiful women.
Lowlight:
None.
Best player:
Melville
Worst player:
Page
Celebrity Bust-up:
Wales's tallest fan, Dave 'Tiny' Williams having an argument with
BBC man Malcolm Allen which ended:
"You're a has - been".
Wild predictions:
Giggs to partner Hartson and Blake up front against Norway. Barnard
and Delaney to replace Gareth Roberts and Page. Robinson to bounce
back with a stormer in one of the next two games.
Fan of the week:
Bloke from Bangor who took the train all the way from Bangor to
Minsk and set off home straight after the match.
Adrian Colley