In October 2004, Hertha BSC were once again struggling to kick-start another mediocre season. I was in the German capital on a rare good day for Berlin’s biggest club…
Brian O’Driscoll in Berlin visits the Berliner Olympiastadion to witness Hertha’s first home win of the season, in his new weekly Bundesliga editorial.
Homely Hertha Banish Past Ghosts
It’s a wet and miserable Saturday morning in Berlin as I venture outside to see if I can expect a good soaking on my way to the Olympiastadion. There isn’t much danger of getting wet at the game, with the new roof now fully functional and the stadium ready to host the World Cup in 2006. German efficiency is one of those clichéd national stereotypes, but in some ways it rings true, and World Cup preparations are typically ahead of schedule in Berlin.
The rain stops as I head for the underground in the eastern sector of the city. Hertha have always been a western club, but now strive to embrace the reunited city in a way that no other Berlin club can. Yet, I have to wait until I am at Alexanderplatz before I catch sight of Hertha fans, replete with their beloved scarves and draped clothing. I’m still surprised at the lack of banter on the train, as it’s normally packed by now on other days. I’ve left a little later than usual, though I assume the weather, rather than my timekeeping, has kept the carriages relatively spacious.
I disembark at Olympia-Stadion station, and walk with the crowd through the old edifices of Nazi architecture. The station looks as though it has seen it all, and would make a suitable backdrop in a war movie, but I’m soon in the throng, eagerly approaching the massive old bowl.
To my surprise, the gates are packed, with huge queues running from each turnstyles. Considering that each supporter will be frisked by security before entering, I am resigned to missing the opening minutes of the game. However, it’s the Germans we’re talking about here, and I am quickly through the throng and making my way around the stadium to find my seat.
You can’t help but be struck by the sheer history weighing over this magnificent arena. It remains the only Nazi monument of significance still standing today, and the neo-classical statues of Aryan idealism stand hauntingly on their plinths. To think Hitler stood here. Jesse Owen’s ghost lifts any gloom, and the legendary victories of the greatest sprinter brighten any darker thoughts. For the regular fans of Hertha, such evocative history must be long forgotten, replaced by great footballing deeds of yore.
The renovation of the stadium seems mostly internal. The exterior looks as forbidding as it must have done back in 1936, but inside all is modernity and new. Bayer Leverkusen bring a few hardy souls to the party, but have little to cheer as Hertha win for the first time at home all season. The crowd, a remarkable mix of young, old, male, and female, make a cacophonous din. The fanatics in the curve devote their energies to dancing, chanting, singing, and whistling, but are never static or silenced. As soon as Bernd Schneider brings the visitors back into the game, they galvanise to invoke a spirited response. They succeed, as Marcelinho adds to his status as club idol with the third goal.
On the way back to Zoo station, a lone middle-aged and disheveled Leverkusen supporter stumbles on to a train full of Hertha fans. The banter is witty, friendly, and genuine. He is invited to share a seat with his victorious hosts. Remaining defiant, he accepts the invitation, and the laughs continue. He has European football to look forward to, while the hosts simply wallow in a rare home win. It may be the capital city, but things always seem different in Berlin.
Brian A. O’Driscoll, Berlin
Originally posted at Goal.com: 19/10/2004 13:11
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