The European Soccer Championship is dominating German TV, radio, newspaper, etc., and I love it. I've been watching more soccer than ever, usually accompanied by large frothing beers and boisterous friends. If you ever want to see just how foreign the Germans can be, do as I did last Thursday and attend a Fußball party.
The scene!I went to a large café in Aachen with two of my coworkers to watch Germany vs. Croatia. Let me try to explain what a German café is like to my fellow Americans. They're a bit like an American sports bar - crowded, dark, and filled with tobacco smoke - but with tastefully-arranged flowers on every table, full menus, no age limit, and well-trained waiters. They're a bit like a restaurant, with atmosphere, conversation, and three-course meals (if you want them), but also very like a coffee shop, since they sell cappuccino, hot chocolate, and even warm milk. It's a place where you can order a beer, a coloring book for your kid, pizza, espresso, a kids meal, a pack of smokes, a shot of gin, a hot chocolate, and a steak, all at the same time.
My friends and I were sat behind a group of adolescent Croatians, in front of a grandmother waving a German flag, and next to a family with a six-year-old. The air was thick with tobacco, shouting Germans, and beer fumes.
To add further incongruity, the café was giving away free condoms. Mine was yellow with pearls.
We had to arrive almost two hours ahead of game time to get a seat, but that gave me lots of time to watch German soccer commentary. Every few minutes or so, the talking heads were interrupted by a short cartoon featuring the adorable antics of four kids playing soccer. The Fußball version of the Peanuts, methinks. These interruptions became more frequent as game-start approached, forming a sort of count-down to the game. Way cool.
The game!Germans never do things by halves. I often get the impression that when a German does something, they do it for the thing's sake, rather than the purpose of the thing ("German bloody-mindedness"). For example, when a German
works, the object is not to get things done, the object is to
work. Productivity is incidental. Obviously, this is not true, but it's a facet of the German attitude.
When a German is at a soccer party, the objective is to
throw a soccer party. They loose all their traditional reserve and scream, swear, and jump around like maniacs. A point for the German team sends them into raptures suggesting the safe delivery of their first-born child. Points against their team reduce them to open-mouthed disbelief and gasps of horror. The beer-glass casualties can be horrific.
Unfortunately, Germany allowed Croatia to score in the first half, and then never could get ahead of them. By half-time it was looking grim, and even when Germany scored in the second half I was pretty sure of the outcome. The party around me never flagged though.
With only a few minutes left, the German coach made his move and sub'ed one of my favorite players: Bastian Schweinsteiger. I don't know anything about him, except that his name roughly translates to "Pig Path". Schweinsteiger! Schweinsteiger! Schweinsteiger! The crowd went wild! Everything looked great, until he got a red card for pushing the Croatian who fouled him. Now the Germans were down a point, and a player. Even so, the Germans kept the party going. Alas! but to no avail. The game closed, 2:1 against Germany.
After the game the German composure, weighted with the disappointment of defeat, slowly settled down. I walked to the train station through the murmuring, slightly drunken crowds. On the way home, I saw an entire row of German faces wearing the exact same expression of resigned disappointment. I couldn't help but laugh.
