far from Grandma Frida’s old farm she could see Jörg disappearing into the forest in his tracksuit. Let him run, she thought, let him enjoy his exercise before I shock him with the news.
With the pleasant feeling of exhaustion that you get after doing a bit of exercise, Jörg came back three-quarters of an hour later. He greeted Teresa and asked casually, ‘Where’s Robbi?’
‘He’s cleared off.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘No, really. He’s cleared off.’
Teresa, Dörthe and Jörg were aware that laughter was totally inappropriate, so it was the only thing they could do: they laughed.
They rang his mobile every few mintues. The phone remained switched off. They sent him text messages. All they could do was go on waiting.
Darkness gently ousted the glorious day, and soon it was nine o’clock. He’d been missing for seven hours when the doorbell rang. Teresa ran to the door, opened it and saw him standing at the foot of the steep steps. He glanced up then looked away again, as if nothing in this world had anything to do with him.
‘God, Robbi, where have you been?’
‘Away.’
Teresa never got a concrete answer. Neither did she insist on one. She had the feeling that his inner equilibrium had only just re-established itself, and that she must on no account disturb that fine balance.
‘We’re off to Lisbon today,’ she said the next morning, struggling to ensure that it didn’t sound like a question, or an order.
He nodded. It was impossible to tell what he felt.
FIVE
The City of Light
THEY TOOK A hotel room at the airport, where people stay when they want to get away again quickly. The little park near the hotel was called Valley of Silence. From there it was only five minutes to the old Expo site, the only familiar place from which they could begin to explore this strange city.
The mild evening air after the hot July day settled around them as Teresa looked down on the Tagus from a restaurant terrace at the Expo site. There was a gentle breeze. The lights of Lisbon sparkled on the river, the flags of all nations fluttered on the flagpoles at the foot of the Vasco da Gama Bridge.
‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it, Robbi?’
He went on cutting at his steak. ‘All I can hear is the creaking of the flagpoles,’ he said.
Teresa can’t be sure he was holding his head at an angle, she can’t remember actually dropping her cutlery without a word, but that’s how she recalls the scene today.
She went with him to his first daily training at Benfica as if taking him to hospital. She dropped Robert off at the Stadium of Light and went for a coffee in the shopping centre on the other side of the street – a relative waiting outside the operating theatre and trying not to drum her fingers on the table.
An eagle awaited Robert at the entrance to the stadium. He dashed past Benfica’s stone emblem and into the changing-room. He couldn’t understand what the other players were saying but he understood their laughter: it was the same as the laughter in Mönchengladbach when Marco played his pranks.
9. Robert in 2000 overlooking the City of Light .
Jupp Heynckes introduced himself to the team, and off they went to Camp Número 3, the training-ground. Robert stayed among the new players, so Heynckes had no opportunity to talk to him person to person. Heynckes’s goalkeeping coach Walter Junghans treated Robert as if he knew nothing at all about his panic attack.
There were four goalkeepers – one too many after the last-minute signing of Carlos Bossio. Junghans was careful to treat all them equally. In his time as a player he himself had experienced all the emotional states of a goalkeeper: as the number one at Bayern Munich, as an unemployed outcast, as captain with Schalke, and during a spell stranded in the Second Bundesliga. ‘The position involves so much euphoria and pain, a goalkeeper has to expect to be the idiot at any moment,’ says Junghans, ‘so the goalkeeping coach must be a
With the pleasant feeling of exhaustion that you get after doing a bit of exercise, Jörg came back three-quarters of an hour later. He greeted Teresa and asked casually, ‘Where’s Robbi?’
‘He’s cleared off.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘No, really. He’s cleared off.’
Teresa, Dörthe and Jörg were aware that laughter was totally inappropriate, so it was the only thing they could do: they laughed.
They rang his mobile every few mintues. The phone remained switched off. They sent him text messages. All they could do was go on waiting.
Darkness gently ousted the glorious day, and soon it was nine o’clock. He’d been missing for seven hours when the doorbell rang. Teresa ran to the door, opened it and saw him standing at the foot of the steep steps. He glanced up then looked away again, as if nothing in this world had anything to do with him.
‘God, Robbi, where have you been?’
‘Away.’
Teresa never got a concrete answer. Neither did she insist on one. She had the feeling that his inner equilibrium had only just re-established itself, and that she must on no account disturb that fine balance.
‘We’re off to Lisbon today,’ she said the next morning, struggling to ensure that it didn’t sound like a question, or an order.
He nodded. It was impossible to tell what he felt.
FIVE
The City of Light
THEY TOOK A hotel room at the airport, where people stay when they want to get away again quickly. The little park near the hotel was called Valley of Silence. From there it was only five minutes to the old Expo site, the only familiar place from which they could begin to explore this strange city.
The mild evening air after the hot July day settled around them as Teresa looked down on the Tagus from a restaurant terrace at the Expo site. There was a gentle breeze. The lights of Lisbon sparkled on the river, the flags of all nations fluttered on the flagpoles at the foot of the Vasco da Gama Bridge.
‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it, Robbi?’
He went on cutting at his steak. ‘All I can hear is the creaking of the flagpoles,’ he said.
Teresa can’t be sure he was holding his head at an angle, she can’t remember actually dropping her cutlery without a word, but that’s how she recalls the scene today.
She went with him to his first daily training at Benfica as if taking him to hospital. She dropped Robert off at the Stadium of Light and went for a coffee in the shopping centre on the other side of the street – a relative waiting outside the operating theatre and trying not to drum her fingers on the table.
An eagle awaited Robert at the entrance to the stadium. He dashed past Benfica’s stone emblem and into the changing-room. He couldn’t understand what the other players were saying but he understood their laughter: it was the same as the laughter in Mönchengladbach when Marco played his pranks.
9. Robert in 2000 overlooking the City of Light .
Jupp Heynckes introduced himself to the team, and off they went to Camp Número 3, the training-ground. Robert stayed among the new players, so Heynckes had no opportunity to talk to him person to person. Heynckes’s goalkeeping coach Walter Junghans treated Robert as if he knew nothing at all about his panic attack.
There were four goalkeepers – one too many after the last-minute signing of Carlos Bossio. Junghans was careful to treat all them equally. In his time as a player he himself had experienced all the emotional states of a goalkeeper: as the number one at Bayern Munich, as an unemployed outcast, as captain with Schalke, and during a spell stranded in the Second Bundesliga. ‘The position involves so much euphoria and pain, a goalkeeper has to expect to be the idiot at any moment,’ says Junghans, ‘so the goalkeeping coach must be a
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