In our first round of posts, inviting in eleven teams, there were a few cases where the choices were obvious.
Living in Minnesota made the Loons an easy fit.
The family crest atop the Ross County badge was, again, easy.
My own link (albeit minimial) to the legacy of Grenoble’s academy, and players and history was obvious.
But some were trickier.
In particular, while I knew a good deal about your Grandmother Di’s Serbian roots, we had said very little about the other side of her family. It took e-mails with great-great aunties with a passion for geneology and a bit of educated guessing regarding regional links to first an outpost in rural Russia and then Nebraska to figure out that they likely came from the Schwarzwald (the Black Forest).
There are a few lower level teams in that area, but with few ways to know precisely whence and where your ancestors were from, it made sense to look at the biggest local team as well: hence Freiburg.
The more I read, the more sense they made: a crest with a mythical mascot, a team without a lot of cash but a lot of loyalty, a group of great strong women who made their own way, a community built more on sustainability than showing off, a manager who saw himself more as a teacher than a professional tactician. Freiburg felt right, and so, I adopted them on your behalf.
Dear Boys,
I had no idea what was coming our way.
Freiburg has not been indomitable. But they have been quite good. Their march towards through the German Cup this year set them up to play in the most high profile match of any team on our roster of favorites.
In a rare turn of events, our family was able to clear our schedule and sit down together to watch the fun. I was on the edge of my seat, Alex was curling up next to me, even your mom was gung-ho to see what the small time squad could do.
Across the pitch from them was RB Leipzig, a squad who also lacked a major tournament pedigree or their own gold-encrusted history, but who had some things Freiburg did not: financial resources and lofty expectations.
Freiburg took the lead when little discussed Maximilian Eggestein sliced a shot through the box and into the net. Leipzig roared back to take control of the match, dictating the pace and threatening the goal repeatedly. There were more than a few tense moments until a much more high profile star (Charles Nkuku) equalized, and even more tense moments as the game wound on through regulation, and an hour of over time, and into the excruciating pain of penalty kicks.
There have been many statements about how foolish it is to end a game with the delicacy and duration of soccer with the visceral finality of penalty kicks. It’s like ending baseball games with home run derbies, or gridiron games with field goal challenges. It’s like letting the serious questions of what you do and how you live be decided by the flip of a coin.
I feel that way a lot. Because it seems like teams we love lose on penalty kicks a lot.
And thats what happened to Freiburg.
By that time Owen was dozing, and Alex was distracted, and your mom was running an errand, and I was sick to my stomach. Sick because a team I chose almost by default meant so much to me in that moment. A team that represents a part of the world I’ve never visited had me utterly enthralled, and I felt for them as I felt for your Uncle Simon losing on Penalties in Montana league soccer, or for you boys when you lose a close game.
But at the same time, Freiburg also offers a different point of view. Yes, I felt sick to my stomach, and that must be nothing next to the players and staff and fans who have invested over a century of their life in the club (rather than my minimal concern). But I’ve never gotten the sense that Freiburg was furious about the result. I’ve never felt unwelcome as a new fan. And I’ve often felt that there’s an appreciation not for what we wish happened, but for what did happen. Freiburg fans appreciate that this was a magical run and a glorious moment, and even without a nice shiny trophy: it was special.
That’s why Freiburg has come to mean so much in so short a time. They are philosophical, considerate, and enthusiastic all at once. They feel the big emotions and see the big meanings, but don’t fail to appreciate the little bits either.
I haven’t always been a Freiburg fan, but I am so glad to be one now.
I am not German, or from the Schwarzwald, or personally invested, but I know that part of that region contributed to our family, to your mother, and to you. I’m so grateful to see that and to learn from it every day.
(For another, better edited and locally voiced reflection on Freiburg and the club’s meaning, watch this excellent documentary from Copa 90 on that same match)
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