Sigismund “Sigi” Bergmann was a lucky sports reporter, because he was able to work in times that still allowed proximity. At the end of the 1960s he came to ORF, after which he moderated “Sport am Montag” for 17 years and 819 programs, reporting on football world championships and the Olympic Games. He was a doyen of sports journalism in Austria, like perhaps Harry Valérien in Germany. Everyone, everyone he had in front of the microphone, we got even closer back then, when media agents and exclusive contracts didn’t determine what an athlete confided in a journalist. Nice story, Bergmann told it himself during a conversation in 2014 in the Café Museum in Vienna: how he once filmed Muhammad Ali training. Bergmann had a book with him, “Cassius Clay, Reportage of a Career” that the boxer was supposed to sign after training. But Ali blasted it around the room that he wouldn’t sign his autograph on a book that had his slave name on it. When Ali finished showering, Bergmann came back with the book and Ali signed it. Sigi Bergmann had brought the book with him, back then for a conversation, he put it on the café table. With a pen in the Cassius Clay book it said: Muhammad Ali.
Bergmann was one of those legends who didn’t act the least bit as if legendary status mattered to them, instead he was always approachable, a brilliant storyteller. More than 3000 boxing matches viewed by him wanted to be recapitulated. And of course all the plaques that Austrian Olympians had won in his presence. On such an occasion, the eloquent miner spoke of a shower of medals in all alloys. What is always good for sports reporting: when people with broad horizons take care of it. He also had a doctorate in history and was a trained opera singer. Reminiscent of the times when cabaret artist Werner Schneyder moderated the “Aktuelle Sportstudio” from time to time.
For him, the most beautiful Olympic Games were in Seoul in 1988, when his daughter Elisabeth also qualified
The art friend Bergmann also invited Placido Domingo, Helmuth Lohner and Peter Ustinov to “Sport am Montag”. The philanthropist Bergmann got the life of the former chimney sweep and later prizefighter Hans Orsolics back on track. Even as a pensioner, Bergmann remained a reporter and worked on a documentary about an Austrian ice hockey legend, wonderful title: “Sepp Puschnig, the Karawankenbär”.
A life like a journey. Bergmann took the audience into the world, back when the public was still happy to have traveling reporters explain this world to them. Some things are preserved in the treasure chest Youtube: 1978, Airport Buenos Aires. Surrounded by schoolchildren waving flags, Bergmann awaits the Austrian national team for the World Cup. The camera team is then allowed in the team bus on the journey from the airport to the Moreno training camp. Astonishingly, the players have little plush figures with them, replicas of themselves, stuffed snails, stuffed snails, a long-buried rarity in football history. But the most beautiful Olympic Games for Bergmann were in Seoul in 1988, because his daughter Elisabeth was also qualified in rhythmic sports gymnastics.
Life is always the sum of the experiences one has. Anyone who spoke to Bergmann soon felt why a sportsman’s defeat wasn’t a tragedy for him and why a game wasn’t something that should be overestimated. He had learned early on to distinguish large from small catastrophes. Shortly before the end of the war, his mother was hit by a stray bullet. She had wanted to protect seven-year-old Sigi, and then she always stayed with him as his guardian angel. This is how he later described it himself.
On Tuesday night, Sigi Bergmann died in Klagenfurt at the age of 84.