My buddy Rico likes to tease me with the proven fact that only cat eaters live in Thuringia. I occasionally let him get away with this joke because he’s from Riesa and as a kid he got noodles instead of bratwurst (his mum said the bratwurst was made from cat meat) and therefore has my lifelong pity.
Now the good news: Carl Zeiss Jena and Rot-Weiss Erfurt split 1-1 in front of 12,000 Thuringians in the worst bad football weather. The result is the reason why I don’t feel shock-frozen by fate in mid-September, although the permanent existence of my beloved Jena flock of sheep in the fourth division, where “one-legged and blind players” (symbolic picture) are about to retire and their undignified wrestling with the The ball has little or nothing to do with real football, such as that played by Turbine Potsdam in the women’s Bundesliga (it’s really called that).
Still, my irrational love is limitless, maybe that’s coquetry of my tense mind? In any case, I occasionally emphasize the connection between literature and games, for me literature is a game and football is art. A beautiful set is as brilliant as a brilliantly played goal. Lutz Lindemann (who first played for Erfurt and then became a demigod in Jena) and Goethe play the same flute, to put it in soccer terms.
The choreographies of both fan blocks were pretty. While burning off enemy paraphernalia isn’t my favorite, I do enjoy smoke pots and pyrotechnics when they’re not sizzling in my briefs, in my opponent’s block, or on the field.
Unfortunately, I have been on the side of failure with my club for many decades and, like last Sunday, when I was resting malade on the gray couch, I can listen to the TV as expert Lindemann said in the 1-0 win for RWE on MDR, he didn’t even know that the Vieselbach player had two legs. When he said that, he was wearing blue trousers and his moderator counterpart was wearing a blue jacket.
I knew straight away that the game would end 1-1. Much has been said about football and superstition (some say deep faith) and I, as a knower of the highest degree, remain silent for once. One more thing for everyone who (understandably) didn’t pay attention to yesterday’s game: Jena played in blue. The cameramen’s lips were blue from the cold and wet, some drunk = blue Jena fans were denied entry. I wore blue on the gray couch, the eye color of the Weimar Brigade (confused Weimarians who became RWE fans by a crazy whim of fate) was a certain percentage blue, even the police wore blue. In addition, the good sky is blue and the bad hell is red, of course, everyone knows that, cat and tomcat, mouse and hole.
In the private chat among us Jena prayer brothers after the game Erfurt’s »refusal of penetration« was mentioned. I would not go so far. This formulation may also only suit some readers to a limited extent. Let’s put it this way, political correctness hasn’t arrived in football-speak yet. That may be bad, but it creates release valves, just as football can be useful as a distraction from the essentials in the cold autumn (the wolves are probably already hunting little cuddly sheep on the Rennsteig).