recognises himself, if you replace school with football. When Marco talks, everyone likes to listen. What Robert wanted most from him was the feeling of being understood.
Back in Mönchengladbach after their basic military training for the start of the 1997–98 season, Marco was particularly eager to lob balls over Uwe Kamps in training. He loved the way Kamps got furious every time he did it. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Uwe was basically a really nice guy,’ Marco says. But even though they never talked about it specifically, Marco sensed that Robert was inwardly amused by the raging Kamps, and the idea spurred Marco on. It made him happy.
During that season, his second in the Bundesliga, Robert made the smallest jump possible in a football team, from third- to second-choice goalkeeper. The number two goalkeeper never played either, but for him, this personal promotion meant the world. He was finally a real part of the squad; the second-choice goalkeeper travelled to all the games as a substitute.
Until now his only experience of first-team football had come from Marco’s stories – like when the team had travelled by coach to Freiburg the previous year. As usual, Effenberg and Hochstätter sat in the second row right behind the coach, while Marco made himself comfortable at the back, playing cards with Pflipsen and a few others. They started to feel hot.
‘Turn on the air-conditioning,’ Marco called out to the coach driver.
Just past Karlsruhe the heat became unbearable. By the time they arrived in Freiburg for their game, the card-players were sitting on the back seat wearing only their underpants.
Later they found out what had happened. With the noise of the engine, the coach driver couldn’t hear what Marco was shouting from the back seat.
‘What do they want?’ the driver asked Effenberg.
‘They’re cold,’ said Effenberg, straight-faced.
‘What? I’ve set the air-conditioning back there to twenty-six degrees.’
‘Turn it up, then,’ said Effenberg.
Now Robert was joining them. He was even cracking jokes with Kamps. Now that he had been recognised by the team as their talented number-two goalkeeper, Kamps’s extreme competitiveness was no longer so hard to bear.
Before games he and Marco shared a hotel room. Stefan Effenberg knocked on their door. He wanted to race Marco on his Playstation. In a few minutes Marco had won a thousand marks. Effenberg challenged him to go on playing, even though it must have been clear to him that he would never win.
Robert sat in the background and watched quietly whenever Effenberg was in the room.
At home, Teresa wanted a new tenant. Robert reacted defensively. A dog?
When Teresa had imagined, as a child, what adulthood might be like, she had always pictured a house in the country with a lot of animals. She had asked Robert about his vision of the future. He had always limited his dreams to football.
‘A dog would be nice, you know.’
He hesitated. He didn’t really want an animal in the house. But neither did he have anything specific against it. What made him happy was making other people happy, Teresa above all. OK, then, a dog.
They called him Bo. On Bo’s first day they had to go shopping. The dog was sleeping peacefully. Teresa didn’t want to wake him up. ‘Come on, we’ll just creep out for a minute and he won’t even notice,’ she said. They would be back in a few minutes, after all.
‘When we got back, of course he was traumatised.’ Teresa laughs at herself softly. ‘We did everything wrong that you can do wrong. After a few weeks we were like concerned parents with their first child. We only went to the cinema separately, so that Bo wouldn’t feel alone and bark.’
The dog was another opportunity for the neighbours to get worked up. ‘He is always running up the freshly cleaned stairs!’ cried Corinna.
For Teresa and Robert, Bo was a further excuse finally to move out. Borussia’s coach driver, Markus Breuer, lived fifteen
Back in Mönchengladbach after their basic military training for the start of the 1997–98 season, Marco was particularly eager to lob balls over Uwe Kamps in training. He loved the way Kamps got furious every time he did it. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Uwe was basically a really nice guy,’ Marco says. But even though they never talked about it specifically, Marco sensed that Robert was inwardly amused by the raging Kamps, and the idea spurred Marco on. It made him happy.
During that season, his second in the Bundesliga, Robert made the smallest jump possible in a football team, from third- to second-choice goalkeeper. The number two goalkeeper never played either, but for him, this personal promotion meant the world. He was finally a real part of the squad; the second-choice goalkeeper travelled to all the games as a substitute.
Until now his only experience of first-team football had come from Marco’s stories – like when the team had travelled by coach to Freiburg the previous year. As usual, Effenberg and Hochstätter sat in the second row right behind the coach, while Marco made himself comfortable at the back, playing cards with Pflipsen and a few others. They started to feel hot.
‘Turn on the air-conditioning,’ Marco called out to the coach driver.
Just past Karlsruhe the heat became unbearable. By the time they arrived in Freiburg for their game, the card-players were sitting on the back seat wearing only their underpants.
Later they found out what had happened. With the noise of the engine, the coach driver couldn’t hear what Marco was shouting from the back seat.
‘What do they want?’ the driver asked Effenberg.
‘They’re cold,’ said Effenberg, straight-faced.
‘What? I’ve set the air-conditioning back there to twenty-six degrees.’
‘Turn it up, then,’ said Effenberg.
Now Robert was joining them. He was even cracking jokes with Kamps. Now that he had been recognised by the team as their talented number-two goalkeeper, Kamps’s extreme competitiveness was no longer so hard to bear.
Before games he and Marco shared a hotel room. Stefan Effenberg knocked on their door. He wanted to race Marco on his Playstation. In a few minutes Marco had won a thousand marks. Effenberg challenged him to go on playing, even though it must have been clear to him that he would never win.
Robert sat in the background and watched quietly whenever Effenberg was in the room.
At home, Teresa wanted a new tenant. Robert reacted defensively. A dog?
When Teresa had imagined, as a child, what adulthood might be like, she had always pictured a house in the country with a lot of animals. She had asked Robert about his vision of the future. He had always limited his dreams to football.
‘A dog would be nice, you know.’
He hesitated. He didn’t really want an animal in the house. But neither did he have anything specific against it. What made him happy was making other people happy, Teresa above all. OK, then, a dog.
They called him Bo. On Bo’s first day they had to go shopping. The dog was sleeping peacefully. Teresa didn’t want to wake him up. ‘Come on, we’ll just creep out for a minute and he won’t even notice,’ she said. They would be back in a few minutes, after all.
‘When we got back, of course he was traumatised.’ Teresa laughs at herself softly. ‘We did everything wrong that you can do wrong. After a few weeks we were like concerned parents with their first child. We only went to the cinema separately, so that Bo wouldn’t feel alone and bark.’
The dog was another opportunity for the neighbours to get worked up. ‘He is always running up the freshly cleaned stairs!’ cried Corinna.
For Teresa and Robert, Bo was a further excuse finally to move out. Borussia’s coach driver, Markus Breuer, lived fifteen
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