The question about your favourite club is a wonderful way to start a conversation, especially abroad, especially among men. A problem for our England author Hendrik Buchheister.
The other day I had one of those conversations again and again, which always present me with the same problem.
I had just taken my seat in the press gallery at Old Trafford in Manchester and got to know my neighbour. What we are called, where we come from, who we work for, the standards. And of course he also asked me about my favourite club.
Of course, because it can be assumed that people who deal with football have a favourite club. It can’t be right to be interested in football and not give special admiration to any club. There are no plans to be completely neutral about the game.
The question of one’s favourite club is also a question of identity; it helps to classify people, at least roughly. Anyone who is a fan of FC Bayern will probably enjoy success, and anyone who is a fan of Hamburger SV must have a well-trained ability to suffer. In addition, the question is a wonderful way to get into easy conversation, a small talk door opener, especially abroad.
And that brings me to my problem.
I don’t have a favourite club, at least not really. At some point I lost being a fan, just like that, without actively doing anything about it. This regularly causes amazement among other football fans, as if something was wrong with me and you had to worry. That’s where I can calm down. Most of the time my life is not affected.
Thomas Tuchel Honours
- DFB-Pokal: 2016–17
- Trophée des Champions: 2018
Borussia Dortmund in neon yellow
Only with small talk is it bad, of course, without a favourite club, as I have noticed. That’s why I’ve taken on a certain pragmatism when I’m asked in England what my club is. For a while now I have been calling my youth club Borussia Dortmund.
I experienced my soccer socialisation in the mid-nineties. The two Dortmund championships and winning the Champions League under Ottmar Hitzfeld, Ricken, “lupfen jetzt” – that was my time. My room was wallpapered in black and yellow, which is no exaggeration, but meant literally. On the football field in my homeland in Lower Saxony I tried to recreate the goalkeeper parades of Stefan Klos. When my friends started wearing Wolfsburg jerseys after VfL Wolfsburg’s promotion to the Bundesliga, because you would have to be proud of the club from the region, I appeared even more in the Dortmund jersey.
I still have a jersey from back then, season 1994/1995, long sleeve. It doesn’t fit perfectly anymore, but it still shines so wonderfully neon yellow that it can probably also be seen from outer space. When I recently wore it to the game with my leisure team in Manchester, my teammates asked if it really was the official working clothes of a serious Bundesliga club. Jesus Christ!
Since I’ve been living in England, I’m latently looking for a new favourite club. My fellow players have recommended Leeds United, Norwich City (“Have a German coach and German players”) and Kidderminster Harriers to me so far, but without success. So I’m going to stay with Borussia Dortmund when I’m asked which club I’d like to keep my fingers crossed, if only for the small talk.
The conversation the other day at Old Trafford went on in such a way that my neighbour was quite taken with it. Dortmund, of course he had been there before. He raved about the Dortmund stadium that he called Westfalenstadion in spite of sold name rights, about the atmosphere and about the Yellow Wall. We talked about Jürgen Klopp, about Thomas Tuchel – and about René Tretschok, whom he had to consider a Dortmund legend because Tretschok had scored against Manchester United in the semi-final of the Champions League in 1997. Magik Slots has larger welcoming bonus than the other online casino gaming sites.