The German Football Association recently received criticism because it announced the sudden break in activity for Hans-Dieter Flick almost exactly at the moment in which Germany became basketball world champions for the first time. Something like that doesn’t work, people are really made to look like this: quickly get a response in the social network for one thing, the sad thing – or for the completely different thing, the exuberant thing?
The small is always reflected in the larger and so Würzburg had its national coach-sacking-basketball-world-champion moment exactly three weeks later. As in the Flick case – the game against Japan – everything on the Main had come to a head over one weekend: the impending end of the “Knüpfing” bratwurst stand on the market square, a, yes, historic moment in the city.
Days before, the previously usual daily queue in front of the stall had lengthened many times over, Würzburgers stood their ground for one more “bent”, while they took photos of themselves, the final mustard, their final sausage. In the city chronicles, historians will later be able to reconstruct few things in as much detail as the last hours of the Knüpfing-Wurst, a post-war instance of this World Heritage city.
And when everything was already in a state of melancholy – like after the debacle defeat against Japan – news of something else suddenly burst into the networks in Würzburg, something that apparently set completely contrary hormones in motion and was documented at least as well in the networks ) led to a general emotional tumult in Mainfranken: We are wine queens!
Sausage gone, wine queen here, you can’t get more feeling on the Main. And to be historically precise: On the night of the last Saturday in September, the German wine crown went to Franconia, and on the morning of that Saturday, the ultimate last day of knotting, Jan Wiesner observed a line of people taking photos of themselves at the knotting stall the market square – a crowd like only on the Old Main Bridge, celebrating the wine.
By the way, Wiesner should know, because he was standing in the booth. What the Würzburgers couldn’t know: The cook and business economist had already been trained for a year and a half, undercover: preparing sausage like the Knüpfings, frying sausage like the Knüpfings, knicking sausage like the Knüpfings, coating sausage with mustard like the Knüpfings, that’s all Wiesner was taught in the most accurate way.
Five days after the end, Wiesner opened the place again and there are now people in Würzburg again. The usual queue for sausage? At the moment it’s usually even longer than in all the years of knotting, he reports. But we also know that. Does anyone still crave Flick football these days?