An indicator by the name of Karlheinz Kas has been helping to gauge the mood at the Ruhpolding biathlon site for 20 years. The 67-year-old stadium announcer is something like the epitome of this traditional Chiemgau event. During the day, Kas can be seen commenting, sitting behind glass in the speaker’s house next to the grandstand. At night you can meet him at the second important place to be in Ruhpolding these days: in the so-called Champions Park, where people don’t sit behind the glass, but in front of it.
For several decades, the Biathlon World Cup in Ruhpolding has been a hybrid of top-class sport and festival intoxication. After the races, the bus takes you from the stadium to the village – and then into an area with huts and stands. Since the opening of this Champions Park in 1994, this process has become a tradition, although quite a few Ruhpolding residents skip the stadium experience on the agenda and go straight to the only penalty loop where people voluntarily spend time: in the notorious bar with the same name . This tradition was interrupted for almost three years – and the question arose as to whether it would go back to the way it used to be.
Thursday morning in Ruhpolding, a man in a yellow ski jacket comes into the biathlon stadium, holding his head. “I’m just too old for that,” says Karlheinz Kas. They didn’t let him go again, from the Voglwuid hut in Champions Park, it was getting later and later. Now he should comment on the women’s singles. An hour later, he’s sitting in his cabin as if nothing had happened, greeting the spectators while his DJ plays the flag song, a hymn to the flag, as always before the start of the race. In all respects.
Much of the past can be seen here between Rauschberg and Sonntagshorn. A total of almost 70,000 people will have come to the stadium by Monday, as many as before the forced break caused by the pandemic. Stadium announcer Kas says he sees fewer Norwegian fans than usual. “I guess they’ll focus on the World Cup in Oberhof,” he says. At the weekend, the athletes expressed their enthusiasm for the encouragement, many of them only knew Ruhpolding without fans or from television. So the audience is back. And yet the Ruhpolding from January 2023 differs not insignificantly from the old Ruhpolding.
Karlheinz Kas in his commentary box on Sunday at the Ruhpoldinger Stadion during the women’s mass start.
(Photo: Private)
Lack of snow has been an issue for a long time, not only in Chiemgau, but in almost all of winter sports in Europe. However, global warming has never had such a drastic impact in Ruhpolding as it has over the past few days. First rain, then sun, then rain again. And when it snowed, the snow didn’t fall far enough. Thanks to the Ruhpolding snow depot, they were still able to model the biathlon trail down into the valley. As announced, the organizers went through all six competitions, unabridged. From the athletes there was only praise for the quality of the course – and finally also from Karlheinz Kas, who thanked the chief preparator Alois Reiter over the stadium microphone. Reiter and his team created a work of art out of artificial snow, which is the only reason why the Ruhpolding Renaissance could be proclaimed.
At a late hour, everyone sinks into the collective intoxication
The general shortage of snow will probably remain. This makes winter sports events of all kinds more expensive and difficult to organize. All of this contributes less to the attractiveness of the planning, as was recently shown in Ruhpolding. The municipal council had reacted to the financial burden there and had already canceled the Champions Park – also because the operation, including the award ceremony and technology, had recently caused an annual loss of 50,000 euros. The fact that Karlheinz Kas is rubbing his aching head that afternoon is thanks to a private company that took over the operation of the park after all. A little smaller, with fewer huts, no award ceremony – but at least with the penalty loop.
Saturday night, the last big show at Champions Park. Mickie Krause opened on Tuesday evening, now the “Guten A-Band” concludes the finale with cover music and wordplay. “All boys, all girls, take off your shirts,” they chant as former biathlete Michael Rösch jumps shirtless off the stage and is carried by the hands of the crowd before some in the audience take their tops off themselves draw. They also play “Go swimming naked”, the Traun flows not far from the stage. But it’s not that warm in Ruhpolding after all.
Scandinavians, French, Italians, Thuringians and Hamburgers have gathered a little further in front of the stage. At the front are the youngest in the audience, mostly locals. Or better yet, they dance pogo style like at a heavy metal festival. For the people of Chiemgau, biathlon Ruhpolding is like the Oktoberfest for the people of Munich. The huts are full and dense on Saturday evening shortly after the opening of the park – this is the permanent state in the penalty loop. At a late hour, the band has long since left the stage, and the area sinks into a collective frenzy. Climate change, lack of money, pandemic? Everything is now as it was before, as if nothing had happened.
That they now cordon off the area and charge five euros for guests who don’t come out of the stadium? Doesn’t seem to be much of a deterrent. And as for the newly introduced daily band performances: Im Traunstein daily newspaper there was recently a letter to the editor from a horrified biathlon guest: “It is incomprehensible to me why such a well-off tourist resort thinks it has to adorn itself with such a ‘Ballermann artist’,” it said. Karlheinz Kas, for his part, watched Mickie Krause’s performance in a relaxed manner. He was in Champions Park every evening anyway, not unwillingly in the Voglwuid hut, it’s not that crowded there. On this last evening, however, he was missing. That is also possible, in Ruhpolding 2023.