This year’s European Championship has a different dimension than the mythical story of the summer fairy tale. A journey to the fan zone in the Olympic Park of Munich.
Schlandisten before the preliminary round match between Germany and Scotland in Munich Photo: Bernd Feil/MIS/imago
Life is pretty good in Munich. I circle around the Schwabinger cargo bike squadron, which is not that easy, because the pilots whip the 5,000 euro vehicles smoothly over the asphalt. The Eisbach is busy; the surfers line up to glide back and forth for a few seconds on the gray-blue water. They then end up in the water and on videos of the many bystanders who place their smartphones between themselves and reality.
A moose looks at me on the Isar. In the English Garden it smells of sheep – and in the Gasteig people think of football. A joker at the Stadium of Dreams looks like a linesman, which is why he wants to go on stage and captivate. He is then announced by the moderator as requested: “And now, bastard, bastard, bastard…” The audience is friendly and caring, has children and a sense of art with them.
There are only a few hours left until the match against Germany, and even here, where the upper hall is beautifully laid out, there are a few people sitting there Germany sweater in the first row. There is restless anticipation in the city. The traffic has already noticeably calmed down, but people are starting to loudly watch the match on big screens.
The bass is already heard on the Praterinsel, and in any case on the Odeonsplatz. Of course I want to continue to the Olympic Park and its fan zone. In Tengstrasse I see a very rare German flag, and ‘Completely Detached’ by Peter Schilling blares from the open window of the apartment.
Fair for Schland lovers
The fan zone is closed to Schlandists ninety minutes before the match, I enter with a triple-checked accreditation. “Idiot,” a rejected football fan shouts at a folder that tells him the bad news: “Who are you!?” Then: fairground atmosphere, the amphitheater with a view of the screen is completely full. The expensive beer goes well. Qatar promotes visits to the desert in the pavilion. To Doha it is 4,500 kilometers, it says.
The Schlandists are kept busy before the ball rolls: they practice, surrounded by sponsors, do chest compressions, test their reaction times, measure the speed of their shots – hardly anyone can do 100 things. On the small football field of the Bavarian Football Association, Turkish boys in socks try to outsmart their opponents, which they do quite well.
The big game is later accompanied by many oohs and ahs, at the end there is a beer shower and the Schlandists go home, well, somehow satisfied and satisfied. The Everyday patriotism is taken away at home with the smelly plastic shirt from Adidas, Because unlike in 2006, this time the private sector must remain clean. This European Championship has a different dimension than the mythical story of the summer fairy tale, even in beautiful Munich. And maybe that’s a good thing, right?