Anthar Yahia scored the solitary goal against Egypt in the 40th minute. You’ve got a say, a central defender doesn’t get to score such a cracking goal all too often. The fact that it sent Algeria to South Africa was just the cherry on top.

Zlatko Dedic’s goal came in the 44th minute and helped Slovenia to equalize on aggregate (2-2) and get in front on away goals. Russia did too little in the first half, and when they were ready to up the pressure they lost Kerzhakov to a stupid red card. Another red for Zhirkov in the 90th minute capped off a miserable night for Russia and Guus Hiddink. Hats off to Slovenia though.

I was fully engaged in my typical football fan mindset.

Three days later my mind was someplace else – or the same place turned numb and sad. Teresa Enke had given a remarkable press conference. Under tears, she openly talked about her husband’s struggle with depression for the past six years, his anxieties and self-perceived failure. In another press conference Oliver Bierhoff announced that the friendly between Germany and Chile had been cancelled. I always thought of Bierhoff as that squeaky clean superficial marketing guy, who had turned Germany’s Euro campaign into a mountain tour and is sure to turn South Africa into a safari, trying to manufacture emotions around a common theme for sponsors to exploit. When he broke out in tears it was real.

I kept thinking about a former classmate of mine. Philipp moved to our high school for the last three years leading up to graduation. He had been at our school once before in fifth and sixth grade. He hung around with a group of friends then, who all eventually moved schools, cities or countries. When he came back he became a loner. We all had settled down in our cliques – not actively seeking new members. He was a nice and friendly guy – calm and quiet. When he talked, you sometimes had to fear he might stumble over his own words. He was an average student, neither excelling or failing in a particular subject. He did a lot of endurance sports. When we organized the renovation of the recreation room for the pupils, he was one of only two who volunteered to help out. He would pop up at parties here and then. We moved along with him in the background. He wasn’t bullied or made fun of. We greeted him with a friendly smile in the morning or said goodbye by noon, asked him for a pen or about homework and we ignored him. It wasn’t until our prom, that we learned what a great piano player he was. He received standing ovations and then we said goodbye and went our separate ways. Our high school organizes annual reunions around Christmas with the usual suspects showing up each year. Philipp only stopped by once. He sat a bit outside of the pile. I spotted him talking to another classmate of mine and walked over to him. The first thing I noticed was the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and was surprised that he had started smoking. He talked about his social anxiety and the therapy he just completed. His openness and honesty with which he talked about his “flaws” and “weaknesses” was striking. It contrasted heavily with the setting. With people presenting a selective image of themselves – one which is about achievements and plans to achieve something and not about failure. I wondered whether I should ask him, if he’d like to hang out for a drink or go to the cinema sometime. I thought it might be tacky or apologetic. I thought he might not be interested anyway. I feared awkwardness. I wondered what my friends might think. I wasn’t really keen on the extra effort. I kept my thoughts and invitation to myself. Six months later I received message that Philipp had committed suicide. I was shocked and devastated. I kept going over the last time I met him again and again. I talked a lot with my friends from school, with each of us trying to contribute little bits of information. His mother and sister both had cancer, but they were recovering. I learned about depression as an illness and not something used to describe the eccentricities of a rock or movie star. We couldn’t come up with any answers, and the picture was only marginally clearer. All the talking helped a lot though.

I aimlessly surfed around the net. Articles kept repackaging and publishing the same few pieces of a very incomplete puzzle over and over again. I read about the death of Robert Enke’s two year old daughter Lara, his adopted daughter Leila, his time at Benfica, his struggles at Barcelona, his return to form at Hannover, his sanctuary for dogs and his friendly and humble character. Only a few stood out. I knew most of these things already. The best parts were usually written in the comment sections under the actual articles with people coming together to express heartfelt condolences, talk about their own struggles with depression or how they lost a friend or loved one under similarly tragic circumstances. The odd sick tasteless remark and joke made sure, I wouldn’t forget I was still on the Internet.

Yesterday, one week after leading his team mates onto the pitch as a captain in front of a boisterous sell out crowd, Robert Enke returned to Hannover’s stadium one last time. The place was packed again as people gathered to mourn and say their goodbyes. Robert Enke was later buried in a private ceremony next to his daughter Lara. His burial was a final farewell and a signal that slowly but surely life will go on. The match between Germany and Ivory Coast will take place on Wednesday. Hannover travel to Schalke on Saturday. There is the distinct wish and need though, that life won’t just return to its’ former rules and rituals. A lot has been written to raise awareness of depression, to remove its’ stigma and to pledge for a better way of treating each other. Theo Zwanziger, the chief of Germany’s FA, announced that they want to get involved to help the cause. A lot less if anything will be written, said and done about it in two weeks time. After Philipp had died, we also eventually returned to our lifes. We had a new experience burned into our minds. But, nothing had changed except for those closest to him. The big question, with a potentially sad or encouraging answer, is, whether one year from now it will be any different for Robert Enke?
 

“German international goalkeeper Robert Enke has been killed after being hit by a train at a level crossing, police said on Tuesday. Police said that the death could be a suicide.” – AFP

Words fail me.

This post sets out to tell its’ story.

Season 1965/1966 to 1966/1967

Here’s the template from which to start. Notice the single curl over his right eye. Great things will eventually grow from it.

For the time being though, Netzer focused on perfecting his football skills. His Borussia Mönchengladbach side had just won promotion to the Bundesliga and would soon be synonymous with great attacking football. The team finished its’ first two Bundesliga seasons 13th and 8th respectively. Netzer also made his first steps in the German national team debuting in October 1965 in a friendly against Austria.

Season 1967/1968 to 1968/1969

Netzer started to add some depth and integrate the single rebelish curl into the system. At this point he can pass as the perfect son-in-law.

Netzer was in the process of testing the potential for commercial exploitation of his profession. Back in 1965 he had already started the publication of a stadium newspaper called “Fohlenecho” (still published today). His conservative hair style clearly indicates that he was overall still tapping in the dark though. His rise to prominence and the performances of his team would soon make him see the light. After finishing 3rd in 1968 and 1969, Borussia Mönchengladbach were ready to shape the Seventies and Netzer was ready for stardom.

Season 1969/1970 to 1970/1971

His trademark special side parting is starting to shine through, as does his marketing prowess. By 1970/1971 it’s becoming clear that he has intentions to go for length.

On the pitch things couldn’t go much better. Mönchengladbach won back to back Bundesliga titles – a first in the young league’s history and Netzer was starting to get more game time in the national team. A business plan also started to come together, which included complementing his work-in-progress hair with a ready-to-go Porsche and a night club called “Lovers Lane”. The Porsche ended up being an invaluable indicator for groupies hoping to catch a glimpse of Netzer at his night club.

Season 1971/1972 to 1972/1973

By 1971 every single hair had fallen into place, so all that was left to do was adding just that little bit of extra length to perfect his signature look. A task completed in time for the 1972/1973 season.

Netzer eventually connected all the remaining dots. Off the pitch he was dating a supermodel/abstract artist and did just about little enough to deny rumors of an affair with an actress to stay relevant in the boulevard. On the pitch his Borussia Mönchengladbach side had to temporarily make way for a certain Bayern Munich. But the two teams combined would end up strolling to Germany’s first European Championship title in 1972 – and beating England for the first time at Wembley along the way. Netzer would finish third in that year’s Ballon D’Or awards – behind Gerd Müller and Franz Beckenbauer. By the end of the 1972/1973 season, Netzer felt he had done and seen it all in Germany and decided to move on to Real Madrid. Borussia Mönchengladbach had reached the DFB-Pokal final against Cologne, which ought to be Netzer’s last game for his club. Just that the team’s coach Hennes Weisweiler wasn’t too enthused about his player’s latest career decision and benched him. The final turned out to be end-to-end stuff and one of the best in the competitions history, yet neither side could score the winner. The game, tied at 1-1, went into extra time. Then Netzer decided he had enough of it, substituted himself and scored the winning goal three minutes later. His legend was complete.

Mladen Kristajic (Schalke) and Kevin Kuranyi (Schalke) reenact the infamous spitting incident between Frank Rijkaard (then AC Milan) and Rudi Völler (then AS Roma) during the World Cup 1990 Round of 16 clash between Germany and the Netherlands. The remake has the splashier special effects, but Mladen Kristajic is a poor mans Frank Rijkaard and Kevin Kuranyi is, well, Kevin Kuranyi, so I still prefer the Italian language original.

“In 20 years’ time the fridge probably won’t stand in the corner anymore. The fridge will walk beside you and hand you a bottle of coke.”

Philipp Lahm in an interview with Süddeutsche Zeitung.

Can’t wait.