Thursday 30 October 2014

Hürtürkel v Optik Rathenow

Lost In Pronunciation

Hürtürkel 3-4 Optik Rathenow
Jahnsportplatz, Berlin
Oberliga Nordost
Sunday 26th October 2014
Attendance: 157

Since being formed in 1999 Hürtürkel (pronounced "Hürtürkel") have made rapid progress, hürtling through the leagues to reach the Oberliga Nordost. 

Back in 1999, when we all partied like it was 1999, the Grundig TV that sits in the refreshment hut was in it's tiny prime, the antiquated fire hazard heater contraption was already posing a very real risk of an explosion and the beautifully hand crafted signs showed prices in Euros for the first time. Mona and Kalla König work as an impressive team in that hut. Him with double denim, large glasses and an ear ring, her with cropped hair and a world weary demeanour. I order a Krakauer (pronounced "Krakauer"), a spicy sausage, and Mona asks if I want it "warm or cold?". Hmm..odd. "Warm" please Mona.

An old grill pan strapped to a gas canister. What could go wrong?

Now, lets have a look at the pictures you've sent in over in The Gallery. 

"Two pints of oder Kindl please Kalla lad"

Mrs K plonked a plastic cup full of tepidly steaming grey liquid on the counter and asked for EUR 1. 20. Hmm, I don't think this is what I ordered. I instantly knew this as , traditionally, sausages don't come served in a plastic cups. Something had gone badly wrong. I retreated to ponder this troublesome conundrum. I've said “Krakauer”(still pronounced “Krakauer” and she's heard me pronounce “Kakao”(pronounced very similarly to Krakauer by my mumbled German). Two sips later and the rancid, warmed up chocolate milkshake drinks gets lobbed into a bush.

Kakao. Putting the kak into Kakao. Should have thought this comment through a bit more. 

"I know, we probably shouldn't use that Marlboro change dish thing anymore, the bloody PC Brigade would be up in arms about it, but as long as I'm here it stays."

In front of the refreshment an old lady sits next to the only table. Silent. Serene. Chain smoking. A sign reading “Privat” shows she shouldn't be disturbed. She stares straight ahead as the noisy Optik Rathenow fans turn up and order, and receive, the refreshments they think they had ordered. 

Boots clatter on concrete, a linesman slams the changing room door shut and the keys rattle as he locks the door, the reticent PA announcer whispers the line ups into a microphone, the numerous home stewards pull on their hideously loud orange bibs, a roaringly pissed, double denimed Optik fan chants "FSV, FSV" whilst sloshing his pint, the referee blows the whistle to start the game. The lady sits quietly.

Token attempted arty shot. 

The Optik fans strike up a chorus of, "Come on you boys in green", (pronounced in English and with a harsh Brandenburg accent) and their team are three nil up by half an hour. The inattentive PA announcer has to ask for confirmation who scored all the goals and then, with head bowed and with very poor annunciation, whispers the scorers names into his microphone.

The Jahnsportplatz is an all seater arena. 

Optik's Marcel Bahr then concedes a penatly and gets himself sent off by punching away a goal bound shot. He takes the decision badly, oh, so very badly, despite it being his dumbarse decision to thump the ball clear. He then proceeds to pronounce, very clearly and very loudly, a large number of insults and swear words in the direction of anyone who doesn't really want to hear them. Hürtürkel's Attila Caliskan has his penalty saved. The PA announcer breaths a sigh of relief that he doesn't have to open his mouth. The lady sits quietly.

Token attempted arty shot II

Hürtürkel hürriedly score two goals. Half time 3-2. Bahr re-appears,still shouting and still trapped in his world of rage. He gets into an argument with some home fans, gets calmed down by some away fans and acts like a Bahr with a sore head (sorry).

Token match shot. 

One hügely proud parent tells all around him that his son, Hasan (of course, Hasan), is playing at left back for the home side. He abuses anyone that dares come near his son with clear insults, "YOU ARE AN IDIOT, HONESTLY!!", greets one opponent who dares to tackle his offspring. Proud Father takes out his mobile phone as the game reaches nears it's climax. Hasan lines up to knock a free kick in the area, the players jostle for position, this could be it, a glorious comeback with Hasan at it's centre, 30 seconds into the Proud Father's video Optik make a substitution, Hasan waits with hands on hips, his Dad films with his arm extended out in front of him, the substitution takes ages, Proud Father's phone camera fills with over a minute of absolute buger all, the lady sits, the referee blows his whistle, Proud Father extends his arm even further forward to capture the big moment. Hasan fires the free kick into the wall. "Acchh Scheisse", says the disappointed Father as deletes the video.

Proud Father. 

With seven minutes left the home side equalise. Subs, manager, stewards, fans and me go crazy whilst a Turkish wedding procession fills the air with the hönking of car horns and, yep, an old lady sits quietly looking on.

3 minutes later Salih Cetin takes a shot for Optik, the ball Brehme's up into the air and loops over the home keeper, 3-4. Hürtürkel pile forward, Proud Father films, Hasan takes shots, the goalkeeper comes up for corners, the shy PA announcer wishes for one more home goal to announce.  The final whistle sounds. Hürtürkel have lost. The old lady is nowhere to be seen. 

For an actual report of the game, that doesn't include numerous references to an old lady, have a read of this report over at the ever excellent No Dice magazine.