Tranmere fan Matty Robinson travels the country (and beyond) watching football of all levels. A true fan. What does he make of his experiences watching the match in Germany compared to this country? This excellent piece was first published in the superb Tranmere Rovers fanzine 'Give us an R'. Many thanks to both Matty and the publication for sharing, all the best for the coming season:
The Time I Left My Borussia Monchengladbach Shirt in Kraftwerk’s Studio
No, that is not the working title of Half Man Half Biscuit’s next album, but instead an actual series of events that happened to me last year. However, I’ll come back to that.
I have made twice annual visits to Germany, and more specifically Dusseldorf, for a few years now. It all started when a mate proposed that instead of our squad going on the standard sort of Lad’s Weekend, why don’t we centre a trip around something meaningful, like a footy match?
I don’t know why my mate Jonesy decided that we would all go to see Borussia Monchengladbach, but it made sense given that tickets are readily available for most of their home games and the nearby city of Dusseldorf is as good a place as any for a big piss-up. The one-hour flight time between Manchester and Dusseldorf meant our drinking time wasn’t cut too short by being stuck in a tin can up in the sky. A Bundesliga game between Gladbach and Eintracht Frankfurt was selected, and the trip was booked.
After a very early flight and some panicked phone calls to track down our Airbnb host, we finally made it to our apartment, dumped our luggage and headed straight to Dusseldorf’s Altstadt, home of ‘The Longest Bar in Europe’, the nickname for a square mile area home to over 300 bars.
The local brew ‘Altbier’, called ‘Alt’ (old) as it is brewed to an old recipe, slipped down nicely meaning we were already well lubricated by time we jumped on our train to take the short train ride to Monchengladbach. We had some cans on the train, then picked up more cans from platform vendors for €1.50 as soon as we got off the train.
More beers flowed in the fan park at Borussia-Park (can you spot a theme?) and it was then time for the match. Now I am the sad sort who likes to be in position at any event, sporting, musical or otherwise, nice and handy, ready to take in the build-up to the big event. My mates, however, are the sort who’ll always find time for just one move bevvie. So, with twenty minutes to go before kick-off, I eschewed another drink and sprinted down to the opposite ground from where we were drinking to observe some of the build-up.
And how glad I was! The crowds in Germany start an orchestrated set of pre-match anthems about ten minutes before kick-off, with every man, woman and child, no matter what age, belting out their club’s songs at the top of their voices whilst swirling their club’s scarf high above their head. A particular novelty was the fervour that met the playing of ‘Go West’ by the Pet Shop Boys; some stereotypes about the Germans are just too perfect!
Our seats were at the opposite end to the Gladbach Ultras situated in the safe-standing ‘Nordkurve’, but we were near the large numbers who had travelled from Frankfurt, who belted out tunes non-stop all game. I’ve since come to learn that their fans are amongst the loudest in Europe, and even had the privilege to attend a game in their extremely noisy Commerzbank Arena a few months after this initial trip.
Sadly, our fixture ended 0-0, but that did not matter as I was now hooked on the fine spectacle that is Bundesliga football with its colourful crowds, rhythmic chanting and abundant beer. The rest of our trip was top quality, and we were all gutted to come home, but as soon as we got back I set about planning my next trip.
Over the last few years I have made it to Gladbach another two times and have also seen Schalke twice, Fortuna Dusseldorf twice (being at the game this April that clinched their long awaited return back to the Bundesliga), Bayer Leverkusen twice, Eintracht Frankfurt once, stood on the famed ‘Yellow Wall’ at Borussia Dortmund and even hired a car to hop over the border into the Netherlands to see FC Twente v PSV Eindhoven.
For me the best thing of a footy weekend in Germany is the simplicity of it all. Everything is geared towards making the day as simple and enjoyable as possible for the punter.
Let’s start with the cheap match tickets. For the games listed above, my average ticket price was around €25. Some are cheaper, some more expensive, but most come in around this mark, with the most expensive, Frankfurt, still only coming in at €36.
Included in that price is a free return train journey within the region the stadium is situated. So, by staying in Dusseldorf as I do, I could buy a ticket for any one of Dortmund, Schalke, Dusseldorf, Gladbach, Bochum, Duisburg, Koln, Leverkusen, Bielefeld and Paderborn and not pay a penny for my transport there. The trains in Germany also mostly run on time, are nice and clean, very quiet, air conditioned and plentiful.
Next are the stadiums, which are almost all very modern, large capacity stadia, complete with fan parks, high quality food outlets, large club shops and decent leg room at your seat. There are also the famous safe standing sections, which every German team has. I have stood in a few of these now and personally love the experience, although I do appreciate why they are a hot topic back in the UK. The Germans get it though, respecting everyone’s personal space and not trying to cram as many people as they can into a stupidly small space. It creates such a fun, vibrant atmosphere that can leave your ears ringing for days, but all with that typically German sense of order.
Finally, the football on offer is really decent. It is different to your typical Premier League fayre, and pound-for-found I would say slightly inferior, but your average league game between the likes of Werder Bremen, Hertha Berlin, Augsburg or Freiburg will almost certainly feature two teams who feel they can win any game they play in and will give their all in trying to secure victory: there is rarely any caginess, or defensive play.
Also, the Bundesliga clubs are more than willing to give youth a chance, something that is severely lacking at home. I have been fortunate enough to see former Man City player Jadon Sancho rip Leverkusen apart for Dortmund and Reece Oxford look very controlled when turning out for Gladbach on loan from West Ham.
Some may call it sanitised, and that’s fine if you’re stuck in the dark ages, but I like my football safe and organised, with loud fans of all ages, a good standard of football on offer
and well lubricated by high quality locally brewed beer and good quality food, both at very reasonable prices.
And now, to the title of the piece.
It was September 2017 and I took my Dad with me on my latest trip, so that I could show him for myself the virtues of German football that I had been waxing lyrical about for some time. Our second game of the trip was a Saturday afternoon fixture between Gladbach and Hannover. Gladbach had won 2-1 thanks to a last-minute penalty scored by Thorgan Hazard, younger brother of Chelsea’s Eden, given after a controversial VAR decision (a subject for another day)!
After the game, we headed straight into Dusseldorf to watch the Man City v Chelsea game with a guy we had met on the way to the game, who happened to be a Macclesfield season ticket holder and was also a keen follower of German football.
(A disclaimer, at this point of the season Tranmere were enduring their worst start to a season in many a year, and Macclesfield had not begun to show their title-winning form, so I wasn’t to know I was consorting with the enemy!)
We had a few beers watching the game, then moved on to one of Dusseldorf’s famous brewhouses for a few more bevs and some of their gorgeous traditional grub. We said our goodbyes to our Macc friend and then hit a few more bars. I thought my Dad might have slowed up come midnight, but he was still going strong, so we headed to Andre’s Biergarten and had a dance/drunken stagger to some appalling schlager music.
As we stumbled back to our apartment I took my Dad on a slight detour to take in 16 Mintropstrasse, an address of huge significance. The building at this address was home to, arguably, Dusseldorf’s most famous export, the electronic music pioneers, Kraftwerk, a band who have without doubt heavily influenced the British music scene since the late 1970s, including being the primary inspiration for our own Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
Whenever I had previously tried to catch a glimpse of their famed Kling Klang studio, there had usually been a heavy steel shutter in my way. However, on this Saturday night at about 3am the shutter was rolled up by a few feet. With drunken bravado we climbed underneath the shutter and spotted the traffic cone that marks the entrance to the studio, a symbol familiar to all Kraftwerk fans.
There were two guys watching the door, who were surprised to find two little Englishmen asking to have a look around. We were told it was closed for a private party, but curiosity got the better of them and they asked why we were here.
“Sorry mate, but I know what this building is and was just being nosey.”
“You know…?”
“Yeah I know what is up those stairs.”
“Where are you from?”
“The Wirral, near Liverpool.”
“Ok, you can go up.”
And that was it! I was invited in to one of those uber cool Euro-parties with only the coolest of cool kids present…plus my Dad.
The building was exactly as I had seen in documentaries about Kraftwerk, with the distinctive large warehouse windows running down one side and black floorboards still perfectly intact from when the band upped sticks and moved their studio outside of the city and into the countryside only a few years previously. I was in total awe and stood speechless for the first ten minutes in there.
We stayed for a few hours, mingling with the hipsters, enjoying a few free beers and bobbing along to the sweet tunes, before deciding we had better get to bed.
It is safe to say we woke with the heaviest of headaches and the driest of mouths in the morning, but it was all totally worth it. After scrambling for my glasses, I then checked all my trouser and coat pockets, an old habit when hungover after losing a wallet a few years ago. Everything was accounted for with one notable exception.
In order to get into Andre’s Biergarten earlier in the night I had to stash my Borussia Monchengladbach shirt into my coat pocket. It had definitely stayed with me all the way to Kraftwerk’s studio, but alas it was gone by morning.
So that was that, a little piece of me left in modern music’s most significant mausoleum for all of time…or until one of the cool kids found it and threw it into the bin.