Football – Slavic epic and a Bosnian pyro show in Bratislava

Last week the longing for Eastern Europe overlooked me, destinations became the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Monday evening we went to Třebíč with the automobile to eat the best Chlebíčky all of the Czech Republic the next morning. After the wheat bread, occupied with a thin layer of potato salad, lots of mayonnaise and all sorts of delicacies, we visited the Jewish quarter, the Jewish cemetery and the St. Prokop Basilica, all of which adorn the UNESCO list of World Heritage and Natural Heritage.

We continued to Bratislava, where the Local Bolzkruppe from Slovan received the Ballakrobats of the Hšk Zrinjski Mostar from Bosnia for qualifying for the Champions League in the evening. After we had shown our reverse for the city and local cuisine for the Soviet soldiers who had fallen on a mountain for Soviet soldiers, we trotted from our noble sports hotel to the Štatión Tehelné Pole to celebrate a sovereign 4-0 of the home team with 18,000 fellow human beings. The many thousand-headed Slovak fan curve sang heartbeat and the approximately three hundred Bosnian-Croatian supporters could not be ripped off: funny pyrotechnics in the guest block, a formidable “oh how beautiful” escaped our lips.

Ballhaus East

Imago/Matthias Koch

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

Wednesday led us back to the Czech province, where we explored the Slavic epic of the Czech painter Alfons Mucha extensively in Moravský Krumlov Castle. Not without kitsch and nationalistic tamtam, the master, whom madness and genius have already been put into the cradle, tells us the history of the Slavic peoples in 20 large -format paintings – from his perspective.

Now it went quickly to Odry to admire a village cup game in the pampa in the early evening after a small taxi ride, the most important part of which became the intellectual sausages fresh from the smoke. The basic Czechchecker always know what thirsty and hungry football travelers need. Packed with a self-mixed bottle of Kofala-Rum, an eight-kilometer hike closed strictly or along the lovely or along, until the angelein Muchas saw us in the hotel.

Now Poland can come, we thought on Thursday morning. But before we climbed our horses, a check of the football news situation showed that evil fellow human beings had prohibited the Serbian fans visiting the game FK Olexandija vs. Partizan Belgrade. Katowice was the venue: Because of the war in Ukraine, Olexandria plays in exile in Poland. We stayed away from the game out of solidarity with the locked -out Serbian fans and played the game in the Czech sandpit, and randomly looking by Czech minors, to whom the snot ran out of our nose, feastly. As in real life, Partizan won, which is known to be the wrong (in the right one). The negative dialectic and hammer set philosopher Theodor Adorno means that everything is said.