Gërmänÿ
I love Germany. Hell, I have to — my maternal grandmother grew up speaking German at home, and she still curses in the Muttersprache from time to time. Even my surname, Hoover, is of Germanic origins and used to have the all-important umlaut (Hüber).
I’ve only been to Germany once, somehow, and I didn’t even get to Berlin. But I did hit Munich — wait, München, I have to use that umlaut; it’s like cowbell — and loved it. I was familiar with it from my childhood, because my dad went there on business a lot. That probably explained why he had a tendency toward Löwenbräu (I got a fever!) at dinnertime, and I still have one of the ornate steins he brought back.
Ah, the Hauptbahnhof, the Marienplatz and the glockenspiel. That’s an in-joke for Mike. He and I were there on the same college study abroad program, oh, 11 years ago. We drank some serious beer at the Hofbräuhaus (You’re gonna want that umlaut!), and sang along with the oom-pah band.
Besides, he’s as German as they come, way more than I am. My other half is Scottish, but Mike’s all kraut. All blond hair, blue eyes and such an über-German surname. (Not to mention a redundant one — his name is Mike Mister Man.) Just for shits and giggles, here’s a picture of Mr. Mister Mann in front of some shop in Munich:
But I digress.
What’s not to love about Germany? Oh, right. The genocide and war-starting recidivism. But we’ve forgiven them by now, nein? They’re on our side, or at least they were until their poor chancellor had to endure a public molestation by our idiot former president. (Sorry about that, Angela!) But they do love them some Barry, so maybe we’re back in good graces.
Of course, there’s the beer, blah blah. But they also have some pretty hot women, albeit in a very technical, angular way. They have given us my favourite word of all time: schadenfreude. (This might be Drew’s, too.) They hate the space bar (how the Hölle are there only two umlauts in that word?). Their motoring prowess is well documented. And, yes, the “people’s car” sponsors my Stateside football club’s kit.
And their team is good, too. It’s funny that every stereotype you pick for Germans — technical, efficient, meticulous, blond — is personified in their national team. Just like the Italians are raging pussies on the football pitch, Germans are brutally efficient and technical in their play.
One downside is their really unstable nickname: Die Mannschaft. This supposedly translates into “The Team,” which is nice and pretentious and all, but come on. Mannschaft. Man Shaft? No wonder Thompson likes them. His self-proclaimed man-crush on Michael Ballack now makes perfect sense. (OK that was not a very good payoff for the FST bashing at the top of this post, I admit it.)
I remember watching their matches in the 2002 World Cup, particularly because they knocked out the USA in the quarterfinals. They eventually lost to Brazil, 2-0. Heartbreak in ’06, when they hosted the damn thing. They were 3-0 out of group play, top of Group A, and had a mixed bag in the knockout stage — blanking the Swedes and tying Argentina before losing to the Diving Divas in the semis. They got minor redemption in the third-place game, knocking out that bitch Christiano Ronaldo’s Portugal 3-1.
Although let it be noted that Scott’s dream boy/man shaft Michael Ballack had zero goals in ’06. (Maybe it’s his lack of an umlaut.)
Plus, they had be-umlauted coach Jürgen Klinsmann (Sure, baby! Just say it!) take them to great success. His departure after ’06 made me happy, because I thought the U.S. national team just might hire the guy to replace Bruce Arena. But no, the fucks in the league office decided against Klinsmann, who wanted to coach the Americans, because — well, because the head of U.S. Soccer is an asshat.
All of this to say that I won’t mind watching Germany in the World Cup, even though my (secondary) national team is France. And well know how that can turn out.
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