As Neumarkt is over 20 km outside of Salzburg it counts for some people as a long away drive, because it takes over half an hour to get there. It’s not exactly Carlisle vs. Plymouth. Fortunately, Mikko sent out a text message to anyone who wanted to get a ride with him. Myself and Lorenz were the only takers, but sometimes it’s about quality not quantity.
At home, with the under-floor heating cranked up to over 23°C and the sun shining, I underestimated the reality of the situation. This time of year you can be standing in the sun and it feels quite warm, but if the sun disappears behind the trees the temperature can drop to just above freezing. In a nutshell that describes the ground in Neumarkt – the winter palace – which was probably planned by an architect from the south of Spain. It’s at the bottom of a hill, surrounded by small hillocks upon which tall trees do grow. Needless to say, in the tropical summers (not) experienced in this neck of the woods, one might be grateful for a bit of shade, but at this time of year it’s just fucking cold. Fail!
You come down a steep tarmac path in the pleasant just-above-temperatures afforded by the wooded environs, down to the security set-up on the edge of a tartan basketball court which is covered in a layer of slime which never sees the sun after September. Feeling distinctly underdressed and skating along the clammy, slimy surface, the first thing you think about is buying a nice cold, refreshing beer – so they’ve set up two beer stands – protected from the singeing rays of the arctic sun. Of course, some people are immune to the cold, like David – good conscience of the hordes of Babylon, and Salva – herder of the hordes of Babylon, but as warm-blooded mammals we dothed our caps respectfully and moved on to an area with an air temperature above zero.
We bought beers first anyway, since that is what football fans do: go to games, drink beer, shout loudly and go home. No sooner had we taken up our position in a part of the ground which, in the first half was bathed in late autumn sun, than we clocked a pair of boot-clad legs that seemed to stretch all the way up to an exotically beautiful face. Woof! A princess indeed. I nudged Mikko and he nudged me. Obviously, coincidences like this are not put on earth for the benefit of mortals like me and Mikko, so in his typically direct way he asked:
‘So who are you here with?’
‘I’m Marko Vujic’s girlfriend’.
So that was the end of that. Well, you had to ask didn’t you Mikko! Although actually, she was really pleasant and made eye contact with us when we spoke to her. There are still some normal people out there! Certainly not a classic WAG, which is a world unto itself. Barbara F. turned up a few minutes later to make sure we didn’t try anything stupid. We wouldn’t! But Mrs. Vujic in spe was good fun, pleasant company and if it doesn’t work out with Marko, we are great listeners.
Actually, I noticed a nascent WAG phenomenon around the 2nd Landesliga. You’d see really heavily made-up, but scantily-dressed village beauty queens parading up and down the bottom of the grandstand. At the end of the games, they’d be the ones talking to the players, laughing at their jokes, texting their friends with pictures of them and player X or Y. The higher the division, the greater the density of this breed, plus the fact that – as the calibre of the players increases – so does the calibre of the game (so to speak). Suddenly you’re not just looking at gum-chewing disco floss buried under kilos of make-up, held upright by skin-tight jeans and push-up bras; you’re looking at these stunning, well-honed, well-preened adult women of 25 or 30 years of age. Fortunately, by the time you get to the top European divisions it all sort of reverts back to the first group, just five years older.
So we’re standing there talking to Princess Markonia von und zu Vujic, when King Walter, Queen Maria-Theresia-Isabella-Anna-Sophia Windischbauer and a tall, young man we could only assume to be their son walked by. The prince! Young Prince Walter the Second, heir to the throne of Widischbaueria! Where have they been hiding him? Probably in one of those elite public schools in the Swiss mountains, rubbing shoulders with all the other children of European royal families, with the offspring of industrials, statesmen and the next generation of Eastern European oligarchs. However, without the beard and glasses it was not easy to see the similarities. Still, it was his first official function and a chance to meet the masses!
And the masses were amused, as we were in front after just 8 minutes when Marko ‘who else’ Vujic gave us a reason to jump around and get warm. We grinned politely at Princess Markonia, but decided against the full body contact ‘goal celebration hug’. Six minutes later Bernd Winkler made it 2-0 and Neumarkt had to scrap their game plan. They worked hard, but it was obvious that we were working harder. I asked Markonia if she could sms Marko to order another goal before half time. No bullshit – these people don’t fuck around! Two minutes later Marko Vujic got his second and I had to give Princess M a royal handshake. Neumarkt were already beaten after 22 minutes as their body language betrayed a sense of desperation, and just as they thought they had escaped further embarrassment – they were further embarrassed by Bernd Winkler. Half time: Neumarkt 0 – Austria Salzburg 4.
At half time I’d already finished my third beer and toddled off to the chemical toilets set up at the furthest and coldest end of the facility. Honestly, they couldn’t have put the toilets further away and it was no surprise that most of our lot chose to fertilise the shrubbery through the fence, rather than setting off on a trek to the toilets on the edge of the Arctic Circle. On the way back I grabbed a final beer and got back to my place to enjoy the last ten minutes of sunshine before the sun disappeared behind the trees until next march, I presume.
QPR Harry is now so famous that he doesn’t even see people. I’m doing a translation for a corporate customer at the moment and whose face should pop up on their website as a client reference? His majesty, QPR Harry M! Obviously, now he’s been made accessible to a worldwide audience, he doesn’t need to wave or say hello so lowly cattle like myself. I walked past him and he looked right through me; probably thinking about which celebrity gala evening he should attend after the game.
The second half was only seven minutes old when we were all doing our warm-up exercises again as Marko got his third goal and ran over to our section of the crowd, probably to make sure we weren’t chatting up his lady. 5 – 0. It wouldn’t be Austria Salzburg if we didn’t concede at least one goal so Hübls goal for Neumarkt on 62 minutes was at least a consolation for the effort they put in. 5-1. Marko just managed to time his fourth goal right to ensure the mood was perfect for Schützei’s ratatadatatadatatada call. Austria!!! It was a bit like in the old days, a sing-song, Schützei did his bit, everybody joined in – and just for once we didn’t have to worry about the result. Final score 6-1.
See you in Maxglan!
Roge
TSV Neumarkt - SV Austria Salzburg 1-6 (0-4)
Austria Salzburg played with:
Trappl; Kreuzwirth, Sonko (78. Strauss), Schmidt, Tanidis (87. Hirsch); Winkler (77. Yesilyurt), Federer, Kletzl, Reifeltshammer, Kircher; Vujic
Goals
0-1: Vujic (8.) (Assist: Kircher)
0-2: Winkler (14.) (Assist: Reifeltshammer)
0-3: Vujic (22.) (Assist: Federer)
0-4: Winkler (45.+2) (Assist: Federer)
0-5: Vujic (52.) (Assist: Trappl)
1-5: Hübl (62.)
1-6: Vujic (71.) (Assist: Winkler)
Shots total: Neumarkt 10 / Austria 25
Shots on target: Neumarkt 3 / Austria 19
Shots blocked: Neumarkt 0 / Austria 1
Corners: Neumarkt 6 / Austria 4
Fouls: Neumarkt 19 / Austria 14
Offsides: Neumarkt 0 / Austria 8
Yellow cards:
Neumarkt: 3 (Hübl, 45.+1/foul; Ernstbrunner, 57./foul; Pocev, 79./foul)
Austria: 2 (Trappl, 13./criticism; Tanidis, 70./foul)
Neumarkt, Kunstrasenfeld, 800 spectators
Ref: Sebastian Gishamer; Assistants: Reinhold Klinger, Mario Schober
