Funny, but it’s always the people who don’t go to games, don’t know anybody at the club, or don’t even play football themselves that criticise the club the most – all hooligans, dreamers and madmen. And lest we forget, just five years ago these people were all Austria Salzburg supporters; it’s just they all jumped ship for the promise of 30 pieces of Red Bull silver and don’t want to know that their old ship didn’t sink.
Meanwhile, the Good Ship Austria Salzburg has just steered into a port called Westliga, the regional version of the third tier of Austrian football. Just four years ago a team was scraped together to compete in the lowest division Austria has to offer and after four consecutive promotions the critics are still trying to find the cracks and leaks instead of praising the club; and when Austria Salzburg plays the Red Bull Juniors next season and our team runs out in the violett weiss colours of the old team, singing the songs the rest of the fans used to sing, I wonder how many people will feel the sense of irony, a touch of nostalgia. And even if we go down 6-0 the singing won’t stop.
Over the last four years so many people have worked so hard – for no money – to ‘keep the dream alive’ that the sense of nostalgia on our part has been replaced by a sense of pride and hope. While nobody really cares about the results in the Austrian Bundesliga, ultimately that is where Austria Salzburg wants to be. Regardless of how unrealistic it might be from the present financial, sporting and fan-base perspectives – times change – things develop, but change is a process that needs time and healthy change requires us to make mistakes.
We have to realise that everybody connected with Austria Salzburg is under such immense pressure to achieve, to prove people wrong, and to avenge the evils of the past. The last four weeks were a perfect reflection of what this pressure can do. The atmosphere during the SAK and the nasty scenes after the game showed just what unrealistic pressure can do. We expect players to leave other teams to come to our club, knowing they may only be good enough for this division and will have to leave at the end of the season. We expect them to play successfully under the burden of the absolute imperative – we have to win! We expect the club to buy players we don’t have the money for and find big sponsors for a team that is only playing regional football. We (myself included) criticise the manager for playing too attacking football, but at the end of the day the teams that win championships are nearly always the teams that score the most goals. That weekend cost us half the board, sponsorship deals and gave the press a ready meal.
In this light it was almost logical that the Puch game was a stunted, stilted and nervous affair that we edged 2-0. A week later with Hallwang just two points behind us the away game against Hallein was one the realists were expecting us to draw or lose. Nobody expected Hallwang to lose that weekend and nobody really thought we would be crowned champions that weekend. Although played in brilliant sunshine, the Hallein match was another pressure game we ‘couldn’t afford to lose’. After going in front we managed to do what we always do – let in an equaliser. Nervous energy is not always as effective an ally as focussed energy. Lubo missed in front of goal and lots of daft mistakes saw us look wobbly at the back, but a brilliantly struck free kick from our own ‘Harry’ Hirsch sealed the win. There was a collective half breathing out after the match as we realised all we needed was a draw against – to my mind – the weakest team football-wise in the division; ASK/PSV. Having downed several after-match Kaiser beers, the local brew, the pressure seemed to have dispersed. I got a lift home as I was fairly drunk and tried to check out the live score ticker on the Hallwang game against Saalfelden, which started a few hours later. No chance, but then I looked again a bit later and saw the score was 1-0 to Saalfelden and in my drunken stupor I checked the ticker for ten minutes or so before it finally sunk in that the game was over, Hallwang had lost, and we were champions!
Suddenly all the pressure stored up over the whole season was gone and we were all human beings again. In a fit of ‘I’ll-pay-for-everything’ I called my brother, Dave, and asked him if he wanted to fly over for the final game and the championship party. Of course, Dave played the ‘I’d-love-to-but money’s-tight’ card, so I trumped him with – DON’T WORRY DAVE, I’LL PAY FOR EVERYTHING, a dubious victory. By the time I got up the next day he’d already booked. Dave had to be quick because Liz, his wife, had said, ‘But Dave, we don’t have money for things like that’, to which Dave had calmly replied, ‘DON’T WORRY, ROGE IS PAYING FOR EVERYTHING’.
Of course, with the pressure off completely the sun began to shine. The sun shone all last week and when Dave flew in last Friday the thermometer was showing over eighty degrees Fahrenheit. The day before he’d been sitting at some schools sports event in a winter coat and a woolly hat and now he’s arrived in the middle of a scorching summer day in long trousers and a heavy jacket. After a short period of acclimatisation on my patio with a few beers we watched the opening game of the world cup, then went out for more beer, schnapps and something to eat, followed by a mad cycle ride back to catch the second game and drink more beer. With just four hours’ sleep the previous night our kid was sleep watching by the end of the game, so I told him we’d be watching an even better game on Saturday, so off he went to bed.
I’d planned to do a bit of breakfast at a cafe or a trek up a mountain, but in view of the mild hangovers it ended up being eggs and beans on toast, coffee and a sit in the sun on the patio. The game against ASK/PSV was due to start at 3.30 pm so we set off on the 22km bike ride at just before 2 pm, which sounds like leaving it tight but – hey – the pressure was off, the sun was shining and it’s almost all downhill anyway. We got there about twenty minutes before the kick off which was put pack 15 minutes anyway, so there was plenty of time for introductions and, for the others the realisation they would have to speak English until they were drunk.
Getting drunk at Austria Salzburg is a fairly quick and painless process. Standing at the top of the far end of the grandstand we had a perfect view of the pitch and the bar. As part of his cultural training I sent Dave to the bar to buy three beers.
‘Why three? There’s only two of us!’
‘No Dave, there are about ten of us, plus all the people we might see and talk to during the game’.
About two minutes later a lad came along with one of those portable sales trays so we all bought two beers each and when Dave came back with three beers in his hands he was a bit confused, but then he gave in to the insurmountable logic of the situation and just started drinking.
I think the two most important words our Dave learnt on Saturday were ‘servus’ and ‘prost’. Every encounter with people started with ‘servus’, then beer was given and received, ‘prost’ and then on to the next conversation. Meanwhile of course on the green stage down at the bottom of the grandstand there was a football match going on between the mighty Austria Salzburg and some sort of unholy alliance between a tennis club and police sports known as ASK/PSV. Although the opponents were as crap as I remembered them from away game, even our Dave said after about five minutes of watching, ‘You combine well but you’re playing too far up the field. If you play like that against better teams you’ll get slaughtered’. Quote – unquote.
But, like I say, with the pressure off and the blood alcohol rising we seemed to play ten times better and after about twenty minutes it started raining goals. 1-0 scored by Bernd Winkler on 22 minutes. Penalty; 2-0 Lubo Neubauer on 27 minutes. Goal, 30 minutes Lubo again – 3-0. Farewell goal by Ivan Pecaranin, hero of Plainfeld, on 41 minutes; 4-0. Dave said the atmosphere was fantastic; I couldn’t disagree. With three or four beers inside him he was looking as contented as a bear that’s learnt how to scratch its arse; or maybe he was scratching his arse – I don’t know, but contented all the same.
Dave had asked me earlier when the sun was shining why I told him to take a long sleeved shirt with him. I’d explained the nature of thunderstorms in Austria; that when they come they get a bit rough. And so it came to pass. At the start of the second half the sky got greyer and greyer and increasingly biblical (old testament), then it got breezy, blustery and gusty, then the rain started and the game was held up for about 15 minutes while the heaven let loose. Some of the plays stayed out anyway because it was sort of funny and it was party time.
I’d prepared Dave earlier on YouTube with some of the crowd chants. He said that half of the chants were the same in Britain as well. I made sure he’d done his homework well, so of course he was ready for Schützei’s grand finale 12 minutes before the end. A-ratata-tatata-tatata-ta! AUSTRIA! As is tradition at the last game of the season, I started losing the thread towards the end and the beer and jokes and chanting became more important than the game itself. Fast forward to the 85th minute and there was a penalty for the Austria. Obviously, everybody wanted the people’s hero in his last game, Mario Schleindl, to take the penalty, but when Bernd banged it home the 5-0 rounded off on-field events very nicely.
After the game I was attacked by another fit of ‘Don’t-worry-Dave-I’ll-pay-half-of-that’ when I decided to ask Chri if I could have a special price on an XL Austria Salzburg playing shirt for my brother. ‘Normal price, he said, ’55 Euros! But to you – today – because it’s for you brother.....55 Euros’. When you’re sober 55 Euros seems a lot and when you’re drunk it doesn’t. Dave bared his hairy chest to put on the shirt, protected from the shame by the alcohol. Having seen QPR Harry in several guises this year, playboy, bookie, steward, to name but a few, I went to inspect his new persona – the civilised football fan, sitting with a match programme in one hand and his club scarf in the other.
‘Thanks for making me famous’, he said.
‘I don’t make the news, Harry’, I said, ‘I’m just a humble reporter’.
By this time we were all rocking and rolling quite nicely, and the singing and clapping for the various kids’ and youth teams down on the pitch was beginning to blur in the direction of the tent. I think I was in there once and then we spent an hour or so outside, drinking, I think.
Then, as the party was getting going in the tent, we found we had other duties. To find somewhere that was showing the England vs USA match. Somehow by this time priority had shifted from partying to getting fed and watching England. As we hadn’t eaten since breakfast and as every England game is a ‘must win’, the pressure was back on. And when the pressure is on, you don’t get what you want. Christian and Drax came to see how we were getting on, but they were also smiling like bears that had scratched their arses, so they were probably drunk too.
After an early England goal the US scraped one back, let’s blame it on the World Cup ball. We were hungry, Dave was falling asleep again and, no sooner had we ordered our Chinese fayre, did an almighty ruck begin on the patio of the restaurant, which meant the proprietor decided to close. No food – no second half – no comfy chairs to sleep on. But ultimately, I suppose that’s what I wanted to show my brother in the first place as well; a bit of real Salzburg life – miles away from Mozart, Sound of Music and horse-drawn coaches. He met some nice people, drank some good beer, met some more people, drank more good beer, got a soccer shirt, earned his hangover, ate his MacDonald’s pissed out of his mind and flew home with a grin on his face.
See you all next year!
Roge
SV Austria Salzburg - SG ASK/PSV Salzburg 5-0 (4-0)
Austria Salzburg played with:
Huber; Urbanek, Schmidt, Reifeltshammer, Hirsch; Mayer (64. Leitner), Neubauer, Pecaranin (47. Federer), Cavic (51. Oberhauser); Schleindl, Winkler
Goals:
1-0: Winkler (22.) (Assist: Cavic)
2-0: Neubauer (27., Elfmeter) (Assist: Mayer)
3-0: Neubauer (30.) (Assist: Mayer)
4-0: Pecaranin (41.) (Assist: Hirsch)
5-0: Winkler (85., Penalty)
Shots: Austria 22 / ASK-PSV 9
Shots on target: Austria 10 / ASK-PSV 3
Shots blocked: Austria 2 / ASK-PSV 3
Corners: Austria 7 / ASK-PSV 3
Fouls: Austria 26 / ASK-PSV 23
Offsides: Austria 2 / ASK-PSV 14
Yellow cards:
Austria: 0
ASK/PSV: 5 (Baumgartner, 24./foul; Uygur, 64./foul; Bogosavac, 66./foul; Pichardo, 88./foul; Ozan, 88./unsporting behaviour)
Yellow/red:
Austria: 0
ASK/PSV: 1 (Uygur, 70./foul)
Salzburg, Austria-Platz Maxglan, 1560 spectators
Ref.: Manfred Knapp; Assistants: Markus Reichholf, Peter Iglseder
