In our “Green Space” column, Oliver Fritsch, Christof Siemes, Stephan Reich and Anna Kemper take turns writing about the world of football and the world of football. This article is part of ZEIT am Wochenend, issue 43/2024.
Other boys my age were into cars. They collected Matchbox models, raved about pumping pistons, and later polished their hubcaps. I, on the other hand, didn’t get a thrill when the tires squealed. I was in love with football tables.
Whether it was the Bundesliga, the Oberliga Hesse, the Wetzlar/Oberlahn district league – every Monday I read the point gaps and goal differences in the newspaper. Who still has a chance of becoming a champion? Where does the midfield end and where does the relegation zone begin? Of course I updated that too Kicker-Plug table made of cardboard coat of arms.
For some, a table was a cryptic series of numbers. For me she was a symbol of clarity and incorruptibility. A table is truth. Now that feeling, the love of the table, is back. The new one Champions League thank you. The group phase, which divided the clubs into eight parts, has been abolished. Now all 36 are in one big classification.
I know the objections. Even more games, even more commerce, all a precursor to the Superliga. The gigantic inequality in European football should only be whitewashed by the uniform table picture. In truth, Real Madrid and Red Star Belgrade moved in different galaxies. It’s not fair either. In fact, no longer does everyone play against everyone, but rather some algorithm secretly determines who meets whom.
However, I, with butterflies in my stomach, can no longer take my eyes off my new lover, the longest table in the world. Newspapers must use a smaller font to print. On mobile you have to scroll for a long time to get to the bottom. You need three screenshots to show it in its entirety. The Kicker would have to make his plug-in table foldable.
It’s cool because everyone is there and because it sends a signal: one Europe, one table. At the front there are clubs from England, followed by those from France, Portugal and Spain, later those from Scotland, Belgium, Ukraine, and at the end those from Switzerland, Austria, and the Germans are also involved. Where is Brest again?
Maybe my sky is full of violins, er tables. But critics should take a closer look. The little ones definitely get a chance. Dinamo Zagreb lost 9-2 in Munich a few weeks ago, but is now one place ahead of Bayern. There is consolation for the bottom team from Bratislava: just one win and you’ll climb ten places!
In general, don’t you just have to like a table that puts FC Bayern in 23rd place? And doesn’t it sound sweet when you ask a Leipzig fan: How old are you? And he has to answer: Thirty-first. The table never lies. At best she is fibbing. Borussia Dortmund is currently ahead of Real Madrid.
My father used to buy me all the pennants of the Bundesliga clubs and mounted a wooden strip with 18 nails on the wall, sloping at an angle to visually capture the sporting hierarchy. So when Arminia Bielefeld beat VfL Bochum, a twelve-year-old from Hesse enthusiastically made the change in his childhood room.
Maybe that would be a good idea again today. Maybe I should make my nephew a giant 36-piece table for Christmas.
In our “Green Space” column, Oliver Fritsch, Christof Siemes, Stephan Reich and Anna Kemper take turns writing about the world of football and the world of football. This article is part of ZEIT am Wochenend, issue 43/2024.
Other boys my age were into cars. They collected Matchbox models, raved about pumping pistons, and later polished their hubcaps. I, on the other hand, didn’t get a thrill when the tires squealed. I was in love with football tables.
Whether it was the Bundesliga, the Oberliga Hesse, the Wetzlar/Oberlahn district league – every Monday I read the point gaps and goal differences in the newspaper. Who still has a chance of becoming a champion? Where does the midfield end and where does the relegation zone begin? Of course I updated that too Kicker-Plug table made of cardboard coat of arms.
