The Radio Reality of 7 to 1

In a time rife with imagery, a time of audiovisual bombardment, not watching a game of football - but listening to it instead - allowed for an ivestigation of my idea of reality.

As the eastbound Jan Kiepura night train snaked through a darkening Germany, I sat up in my seat rearranging the chord of my mobile phone, that was doubling as a radio antenna, trying to catch the first semi-final of the Football World Cup, broadcast live on the radio.

The signal would come and go, the rapid German grow and wane, but within a few minutes I could make out the words 'Tor' from the agitated German commentator, followed after a few crackles by the name 'Mueller'. I shared my excitement with some of my neighbours, most of them seamingly unimpressed. When a few minutes later another goal for Germany was anounced, a group of ticket inspectors was going over the seat arrangement in the isle next to me. I informed them about the sudden and unexpected second goal, but before I was done, another goal was announced, and then another one. 4-0 in the first half of a semi-final? Let's say that only happens very rarely.

But this happened to be one rare night at that, experiencing it through an increasinlgy rare medium made it all the more special.

I simply have never been used to the reality of radio: when Nelson Mandela was released from prison and when the planes hit the WTC I first heard it on the radio, but then I put the TV on to check whether it was true. The sight of that old man waving to the crowds, the images of those tumbling towers made it real.

So when Tony Kroos scored the fourth goal, it was as if the radio commentator sensed the growing disbelief of me and my fellow listeners. A few times he repeated that this was not some sort of satire or a joke, the reporters had not drank too amny Caiparinhas, Germany was beating the home team and.... DA KOMMEN SIE WIEDER, JA: TOR! FUENF ZU NULL! FUENF ZU NULL! DAS IST DOCH EINFACH UNGLAUBLICH! And there he captured my problem at hand; the scenario painted was simply so improbable that I had a hard time imagining it. I just didn't see it happen.

The situation my fellow radioless travellers found themselves in was even more uncertain: since I was the one listening to the radio via my earphones, I was relaying the broadcast message to the other people in the train. In the hierarchy of credibility, word of mouth is bottom rank. One of the ticket inspectors insisted to wear my earpiece for verification, while a second one asked me if their goalkeeper had scored one yet.

At the end of the match, WDR continued their broadcast for hours from a turbulent Belo Horizonte stadium and announced the match as football history. The presenter stressed that this was one of those events, along with the Kennedy shooting or the first steps on the moon, where people would ask one another: where were you when it happened? Since I haven't been able to see for myself the visual proof of a 7-1 semi-final I'm still not entirely convinced if it actually did happen, but when someday people will ask me where I was when it happened, I can say: I was in Oberhausen, Duisburg, Hagen, Dortmund, Hannover... and everywhere in between.