Kansas City vs. Miami, on Main! Fans from all over the world not only cheer for their teams, but above all for themselves and the sport. They also still have time for sightseeing. If only the rain didn’t water down the beer!
In the morning, a heavy rain that no tourism official had planned for began to fall. It then becomes more difficult to maintain the mood or even get into one. Umbrellas bend upwards in the strong wind, colorful ponchos are hastily put on, or a group of Seahawks fans scream: Fucking hell! A damp veil covers the selfies on the Eiserner Steg. The official ship of the Kansas City Chiefs is anchored there, a river steamer decorated in bright red and yellow, of course, in front of which those who don’t come on board take photos of themselves. And that’s the vast majority of them. Guest list only.
The NFL is a guest in Germany, for the second time and for the first time here in Frankfurt. Five hours until kickoff. The city center around the opera and Roßmarkt are firmly in the hands of the Kansas City Chiefs, who, at least on paper, play a home game here. But it also echoes again and again from the many hotel balconies: Fins up! Fins up! Logically, mixed into the general tailgate euphoria is the question of whether the mercilessly good mood from the previous year can be trumped. Back then, we briefly remember, the videos went around the world of seventy thousand blessed people in Munich belting out “Country Roads”.
NFL fans celebrate in Frankfurt
And today? And here? Opinions differ in the Frankfurt Wirtshaus am Main, which was converted into the Carolina Panthers’ official fan pub for a few days. A bald man in his mid-fifties, he’s wearing a kind of clown costume in the colors of the Chiefs, thinks that “Jolene” by Dolly Parton is perfect for the big stadium anthem that unites everyone. His buddy Steve, with a winter hat on his head, trying to recreate Mahomes’ hairstyle with knitted curls, this Steve is betting on Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.” As long as the song comes from the Great American Songbook, they both think there is nothing wrong with it.
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Both teams are, as they have repeatedly stated, happy and proud to be able to play this legendary Frankfurt Game. The Miami Dolphins, who arrived early and have been in the city for days, have done a lot to win the hearts of the Germans. Coach Mike McDaniel wanted to go to the zoo with his family because of the baby elephant. Offensive tackle Terron Armstead enjoyed more than just a bratwurst at “Hans & Franz”, which is why the little chip shop became the most popular photo opportunity among Miami fans in the days that followed City advanced. Whatever you think about the expansion plans of the NFL, which is constantly opening up new markets, it is immediately apparent here in Frankfurt that the strategy is working. Because the tickets went all over the world, meaning that one group of fans did not dominate homogeneously, everyone who arrived agreed to celebrate the sport themselves. American football, bloody hell.
And there’s still time for sightseeing four hours before kickoff.
Kansas City Chiefs fan tricks
You can admire half-timbered gables, vaulted fountains, projecting storeys and sculpted bay windows in the old town streets. “It’s like a medieval Disneyland,” says James from Lawrence, Kansas, happily. Anyone who makes it to the historical museum right next door, and there are quite a few of them, can nod to the quip from Friedrich Stoltze, a dialect poet: There is no city in the world that likes Frankfort as much as mine.
Duncan, a heavy man from Oklahoma, poured a Bitburger into his Starbucks coffee cup and is pretty proud of the trick. Nobody will suspect that he is secretly drinking a real beer here, he shouts and points to the police officers patrolling the Römer. It’s the Frankfurt version of brownbagging, so to speak, but unfortunately completely unnecessary in Germany, where you can get drunk at any time of the day and especially anywhere. When you point this out to Duncan, he stops laughing, and it seems as if it was only at that moment that he really noticed all the other fans, the ones from cans, bottles, Jägermeister shorts and, oh my goodness, even there under the Bridge of Sighs raise your alcohol level from a foaming five liter barrel battery. Duncan shaking his head, completely stunned. Frankfurt – land of the free. Now if only he could put the beer back in the bottle!
Gigantic Patrick Mahomes greets
These are the kinds of cultural irritations that charmingly increase as kickoff gets closer. Frankfurt has certainly tried to dress itself up, the streets are flagged, decorated and bunted, with NFL-related advertising everywhere. Only a few spots could no longer be polished. The completely open heroin scene around the main train station offends some Americans, while others wave it off: On Kensington Avenue in Philly, the fentanyl strip of the States, things are much worse! Can this be understood as praise for the city’s drug policy?
After all, Patrick Mahomes hangs a giant advertising poster in the main train station and greets everyone arriving like a titan out of this world, including commuters from Griesheim, Obertshausen and Sulzbach.
Meanwhile, the skyscrapers in the financial district don’t have to hide from American skylines. “In Frankfurt we call it Mainhattan, you know,” two Hessians trying to promote international understanding explain to the East Coast blondes they have just picked up in front of St. Paul’s Church.
“What?” one asks.
“Because of the river, you know,” shouts the Hesse.
She doesn’t look like she understands. But that doesn’t matter now. We have to head to the stadium soon. The game is about to begin.