Monday, 17 August 2015

Schönwalder SV v Brandenburg Süd

Germans in Speedo-oh, oh, no, no, my eyes!!

Schönwalder SV 2-5 Brandenburg Süd
Brandenburg Cup 1st round
Saturday 8th August 2015
Attendance: 44

Beer guts are unrolled and socks and sandals are kicked off. Hans struts around, a little tentatively due to being restrictively packed into his budgie smugglers, and Guido lifts his mullet up to allow Heike to rub suncream into that tricky to reach base of the neck/top of the back area. 

Beautiful. Isn't it. It's not Weymouth though. 

Schönewalder SV's  ground is next to a lake. Beach starved Germans berluddy love getting semi nekkid next to a lake. Even a large puddle is sometimes enough to see your average sand deprived Franz/Heidi lay down a towel, whip off their top and lay there flat. For hours. Until burnt zu ein Crisp.

To reach the ground a few confused football fans creep round cool boxes, duck under airborn frisbee's and dodge past exhausted Uncle Olaf, who has gone a distressing shade of purple trying to blow up the lilo after the wife forgot to pack the air pump. FFS Gisela!

The local car dealer decided the best place to advertise his new automobiles was the behind the goal of the local tinpot football club. 

Inside the ground an old couple plonk their deckchairs level with the halfway line and pour themselves a drink from their flask. Further along the touchline old boys gather round upturned oil barrels and sup beers. It's all reassuringly tinpot.

 Barrel. Not of laughs. 

Amongst all of this an act of jaw dropping wonder takes places. Two gold star geniuses/genii slot frosty beers into homemade garden wire beer holders that they've slung over the touchline barrier. With your genius invention sir's you have revolutionised football. No longer do us men need to suffer the numb handed torture of holding a beer during chilly autumn months. No longer do we risk the prospect of emptying a beer all down a clean shirt when we're unable to bat away a shanked clearance because our beers are now safe in their magical, dangly houses. Freedom!!

Probably the best thing my eyes have ever seen. 

New season, new hopes. 3 minutes and 36 seconds in and it's the same old shit for one, only happy when it rains, Brandenburg Süd fan. "Sideways, sideways, backwards, now sideways again, now... backwards.....kick it forwards!!!" This fan doesn't ease himself into the new season gently, he's straight in their, match fit and moaning like the crippling torture that is football never left. "FORWARDS!!" Chill out misery guts, go and have a little splash in the lake.


As this chap enters his own football hell a man in speedos and his child appear at the perimeter fence. They're the first of many semi-naked Germans who freeload a glimpse of the game. Seriously, if you must peer through the fence at least do us all the honour of putting a shirt on and covering up your dangly bits. Many thanks, the rest of the world.

Brandenburg Süd are, thankfully, sporting a little more than speedos. They are wearing, as has become tradition on occasions like this; full football kit. Their shirt is notable for including a neck tie up affair thing like they never even heard of 1992. It's Aston Villa Dalian Atkinson era,Chris Kimomya Ipswich and Mal Donaghy Chelsea.It's, as it was back then, a shit look.

Pull your pants up, we can see a bit of arse crack, Rudi. 

Schönwalde's keeper, despite the blistering heat, is wearing jogging trousers. Presumably he's worried "it might get a bit nippy later". Presumably he takes his coat off when he enters a room in the winter otherwise he "wont feel the benefit later". Presumably he carries his money in a purse round his neck when visiting a foreign city because "the guide books said to watch out for pick pockets". Presumably he's a total div.

5 Euros each you freeloaders, ta. 

*makes loud swishing noise* 

After quarter of an hour lower league Schönewalde take the lead. Their players go wild, the Brandenburg Süd misery guts is delighted. Two home fans, unhindered by the age old dilemma of what to do with a beer when your team scores a goal*, clap wildly. Meanwhile, a man in swimming trunks too small for him and a child wedged in a rubber ring stare impassively through the fence. 

Token match shot. 

Right after half time, and now kicking towards the freeloaders end, Schönwalde get a dodgy penalty. Beers are placed in their holders, anticipation rises, all eyes are fixed on the penalty taker. A sun burnt father places his kid on his shoulders so the brat can get a better, free, view. The penalty is scored, it's now 2-3, its tense, all is to play for. The kid is dumped back on the floor.


The game gets feisty. Insults are traded between players while outside a beach ball is slapped back and forth. Brandenburg score again to put some distance between the two teams just as Uncle Olaf finally sets into the middle of the lake on the barely inflated lilo.

Lovely painting of a tiny man windsurfing on a tiny pencil that's been sharpened at both ends

Five minutes from time  Brandenburg score again, The game's over. The Brandenburg fan finally shuts up, the home players fall on their backs whilst a mother shouts "come on we're going bathing" towards no one in particular. It starts to spit with rain and a fuming Uncle Olaf starts to paddle the lilo back towards a nervous looking Gisela on the side of the lake.

*The answer of what to do when this situation occurs is never, NEVER grip the pint between your teeth and applaud. It makes you look like a dick. 

1 comment: