Ballhaus Ost – Woltemade’s loss of identity

As soon as the great Georg Buschner has turned in the grave, football is overturned by the approach of summer depression. We have to wait two whole, unbearably long weeks until the ball rolls again in the loved one and hated regional league northeast. But then we will dream of the climb in the summer rain and tire with the stars and swallows for the bet when it comes to appearing on July 27th at SV Babelsberg. The Karl-Liebknecht stadium is irritating, the fan scenes soothing, the opponent Jena usable to strain the early form.

In mid-June I stayed in Slovakia for a few days to show the U21 European Championship of the young men. I passed Bratislava on various car journeys to the east without enjoying her K.-U.K.-flair for a minute. Thanks to Woltemade, in the hot summer days of leisure, which served entirely to explore. I can recommend the Slovak capital to you, the residents are tormented by the same longings and wishes as we do. Is it a miracle? No. All Bratislavistas love Slovan Bratislava, so we keep our fingers crossed for you on July 22; Then compete in the second round of Champions League against Zrinjski Mostar from Bosnia-what a treat, go on a journey, let’s go off there, the wild football east is waiting!

Ballhaus East

Imago/Matthias Koch

Frank Willmann looks at football between Leipzig, Łódź and Ljubljana.

Yes, the young Mr. Woltemade, he delighted me on the television in the first game of the U21 European Championship so that I immediately blossom into Slovakia with a tour group. In the second group game against the Czech Republic, he again shone in the smart Dunajská Streda, a small town on the Danube towards Hungary.

But oh, when a gate gave the helled guy in the sparsely filled Mol Stadium (named after the Hungarian mineral oil company), he magically not drawn to us, his fans (mostly very eastern German, favorite hit: U21 Schalalalalala …), but to the specially placed photographer. Height Corner flag sucked the jubilation of Woltemades for Insta, Tiktok and how they all hot within tenths of a second. Admittedly, the German appendix showed itself beyond “Alla Bonheur”, as the*Schinkendeutsche says. Nevertheless, the image of the professional, who was smiling in the camera, irritated the black red-gold fan endowment in its faithful German soul. Their tears of joy were rare.

Even young in years, the Bald Bavarian player masters (who, if not the Munich, made, as the fans shed up, will probably arrest them from the gift table) the multiplication table of self-marketing-or have entered it from knowledgeable image advisors (and, if necessary, skipped ethics lessons). I call it Woltemade’s loss of identity, how an exciting player becomes an X-like project.

PS: As we all know, it is possible to get back to the heart of the fans at any time via 180-degree-huge jump, but there are well-paid specialists.