So the match ended, and I stayed around briefly to see what happened. The team came over, saluted the fans, that that was it. I think Hannover held some special recognition of a retiring player, but I didn't stick around to see it. Instead, I made the trek back to the train station. A sea of Hannover fans transporting the isolated Arsenal fans. I can't say that I felt in danger, but I've never been a visiting fan before. I've never been to a sporting event alone. And I've never been to a European football match. I've heard horror stories from (recent) history of visiting fans getting knifed. I thought though, "This was a friendly match. It didn't matter. Nothing could go wrong." I was right. Nothing went wrong.
I got to the train station in plenty of time. My train didn't leave until 10:30, and I got to the station at about 9:15. I thought about asking if I could catch the 9:30 train and get back to Berlin an hour early, but instead, I grabbed a bratwurst, a Fanta, and took a seat. I needed to take it easy.
Not asking if I could take the early train back was probably one of the best decisions I made all night long. I sat on the track just killing time, watching all of the Hannover fans walk by with beers in hand. I saw the occasional Arsenal fan, but it was always from afar. But one group of Arsenal fans happened to walk my way. There were about 6 or 7 of them, drinking, and having a good time. They saw my jersey and one of them came and sat next to me. Before they spoke, I would have thought they were English. They didn't look particularly English, but they were all wearing Arsenal gear that you couldn't get in Germany. One had an Arsenal double shirt that looked retro--not trendy retro, but retro because when he bought it, I'm sure it was in style. We all started to chat. They asked where I was from, and I said Kentucky. After, I endured several jokes like "What is there to do in Kentucky," etc, etc, and something about inappropriate relations with horses. I'dve ignored them had I thought they were serious, but this was guy joking, the type Mr. Wigginton endured perhaps beyond his tolerance from time to time. I understood how it went. Rib the Kentucky guy, laugh about it, and then hang out. That's exactly how it went.
I then started talking with Ulle. Ulle was apart of this English/German Arsenal group, and he found it absolutely fascinating that I was from Kentucky, studied in Alabama, and am now in Berlin learning German so that I can teach German history in the United States. He said to me, "I didn't think Americans really cared about anything other than America." A bit exaggerated, I'm sure, but I can see his point. He invited me to sit with him and his group on the train, if I obliged, or I could just sit and sleep, he said. I had no plans to do such a thing.
We boarded the train, and I didn't sit among the group, but I sat a row behind them. I didn't want to disrupt any sort of balance, but I was close enough so that I could still engage them. I sat down, looked up, and to my surprise I saw the father and son from the train to Hannover. What a small world! They seemed excited to see me. Otto, the father, and Pascal, the son, sat in the two seats next to me. As the train took off, I could tell this trip was going to be interesting.
Otto, Pascal, and I talked about the match. We talked about our favorite players, and what the thought of the recent departure of Emmanual Adebayor (I think I like the idea of Adebayor more than I actually like the player. Good luck at Man City. That project is a financial disaster waiting to happen, in my opinion.). Pascal, 10, asked me if I lived in Berlin. I said that I didn't, that I was actually from America, and that my German was bad. They'd have to be patient. Both Pascal and Otto said they could understand me perfectly. That didn't seem to be the problem. I had a hard time understanding them. I think about this often, and very frequently humbled by it--I like to think that I am better than 10 year-olds at most things. I am certainly not better than German 10 year-olds at speaking German. Regardless, it was fun talking with them. I had a tougher time understand Otto because first, he had a low voice, and second, he spoke with a very strong Berlin accent. Nonetheless, I could catch enough to carry on a conversation.
I'd hear occasional shouts from the gang a row in front of me (none of which is fit for reproduction on this blog. I run a family outfit, here). Pascal thought the language was hilarious. From time to time, one of the guys would say something about a kid being around, but no one seemed to care. Comments like that would only cause a curse-ridden rant about Hannah Montana. One time, there was something about where the Kentucky boy was. I let them know I was still around.
Then Ulle came back to talk to me. Again, he was fascinated with the Kentucky-born who was learning German in Berlin. He asked me about the institute where I was learning and about the programs I was attending. I told him about the walks around Berlin, the museums, and the other things we were doing. He didn't seem too impressed with the trips to museums and the "culture program" that the Goethe Institute planned. I could see the point he made. He told me about how one learns about people and "culture" by doing things like I was doing: going to football matches and interacting with the people. He said that one of his friends in the group, who evidently had the best German of the lot, learned the language not from class but from bars. I'm sure that might be true, but I don't have that kind of time. Or money.
Ulle made a good point. I'm very interested in learning the German people better. I think it is very important to understand the people that I study and the opinions that I have, and that's not something I can learn in the museums. To learn about the people, I need to interact with them directly. But at the same time, it is difficult to understand where the people come from without understanding their history. The reason Berliners have opinions about particular things or think a certain way is because they have experienced things that shaped their opinions. They have lived through (on occasion very infamous) events that have caused them to feel a particular way. I think it is important to understand these events so that one has a foundation from which to understand the people. In my opinion, it is better to work from general to specific. Start with the museums and work to the people.
I'm not going to miss out on anything that Berlin has to offer. The museums, the landmarks, the memorials, and the buildings are so important because they all tell stories about the events that happened. It shows how alive the history still is in Berlin, and how close the citizens of Berlin live to it every day. But something I haven't gotten the same chance to do is understand the individual stories of the people. That takes a particular boldness. Talking to these guys was pretty simple, and I'm not so sure that talking to other Germans will come as easily. But why not? A conversation is a conversation, whether it is with perfect German or shabby German. And it could be a really great experience. After talking with Ulle, he has encouraged me to be a little more outgoing when out at bars or restaurants. Who knows what I'll learn.
Unfortunately, the train arrived in Berlin. I said my goodbyes. Pascal asked me if I was going back to an apartment by myself, and I reluctantly said that I was. He said that I should come back home with him and his father. What a nice kid!? I declined the invitation, but said I'd take him up next time. He and his father said that they looked forward to running into me again. As for the other group, one more rendition of "One Nil to the Arsenal" rang out, I shook a couple more hands, and then went my own way with Walter--who introduced himself to me as "Monsieur Beckham." I got on a bus, realized that I had taken it the wrong way after it dropped me off in Middle of Nowhere, Berlin. It was 1:30 am, so I hailed a cab, got in, and finally made it back to Breitenbach Platz.
The night was unforgettable. I got to see my most favorite sports team win. I got to see my favorite player--Gael Clichy, Robin van Persie, Cesc Fabregas, etc, etc,--and I sang with the fans. Maybe more importantly, I met some really fascinating people. Bound by our sports team, we had meaningful conversation and fostered, however short-lived, friendship. If you're out there somewhere: Ulle, Pascal, and Otto, thanks for a great night.
Deutsches Wort des Tages:
die Freundschaft -- friendship
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