If someone had told me we would be playing against Real Madrid I would have gone crazy. We enjoyed a wonderful trip, so there is no reason to be sad.” The speaker is Christian Arbeit, General Director of Communications at the Berliner Union. A club that was the greatest enemy of the Stasi team (the secret police of the former GDR), whose stadium was renovated by its fans and which today represents the last vestiges of romance in a business ravaged by petrodollars.
It's a cold Thursday in November at the An der Alten Försterei stadium in Köpenick, a working-class district in the southeast of the German capital. Work (Berlin, 1974) usually arrives by bicycle. “I live ten minutes away and on the way everyone tells me something about the last game,” he says, proud of the sense of community that makes Unión a second family for his fans. While it had just over 5,000 members in 2006, the latest data puts it at 62,722. While the budget in 2004 was just under five million euros, this season it is 190.
Its history is linked to that of East Germany, but has its origins in SC Union Oberschöneweide, founded in 1906. The club was re-founded as 1. FC Union Berlin in 1966 as part of the reorganization of professional football in the GDR. Their motto “Iron Union” comes from the steelworks unions. In 1966 there were two other important teams on this side of the Wall: ASK Vorwärts, which belonged to the Bundeswehr, and BFC Dynamo, which belonged to the Stasi. “Since the authorities were not stupid, they knew that another team of ordinary people was needed. That’s why we were called rebels.”
Fans cheer on the team in the stands. Daniel Ochoa de Olza
“Even now, maroon clothing is frowned upon.” [el color del BFC Dynamo] in our stadium,” explains Alberto Doblaré, head of Spanish communications at the club. After the fall of communism in 1989 and the subsequent reunification, the championships between the GDR and the Federal Republic of Germany merged. “Most teams from the East could not keep up with the strength of their rivals from the West and ended up in regional leagues or disappeared,” he points out. Unión is one of the few eastern teams to survive in the Bundesliga. And he is no longer fighting with BFC Dynamo, but against commercial football, whose largest local representative is RB Leipzig, which belongs to Red Bull.
In July 2004, when the team was again relegated to third place, Dirk Zingler, the current president, took over the management of a bankrupt club. 1.5 million euros were needed to obtain the association license and since the cash register did not have this amount, the fans started the “Bleeding for Union” campaign in 2005, in which they donated blood and transferred money to the company. Despite everything, it was relegated to fourth place.
Christopher Trimmel, captain of the Union Berlin football team.Daniel Ochoa de Olza
Antonio Hurtado (Puertollano, 1959) was one of those responsible for Zingler's arrival. Hurtado emigrated to Duisburg at the age of 13, where his parents worked. After studying industrial engineering, he landed in Berlin in 1999 and began working as managing director of BSR (Berliner Stadtreinigung), the municipal waste collection company that sponsored the team's lower categories. Elected by the general meeting, in 2004 he joined the association's supervisory board, the body responsible for appointing the president. “It was a catastrophic situation. Zingler preferred to only serve on the board. But I was able to convince him. He took a lot of money out of his pocket in the first few seasons.”
The Spaniard Antonio Hurtado, former chairman of the Union Berlin. Daniel Ochoa de Olza
“When I walked into the club the pitch looked like a cow pasture. But from the first moment I could see the love of these fans for their team: very humble people who sacrificed their vacation to buy their annual ticket.” Dirk Zingler (Königs Wusterhausen, Brandenburg, 1964) has been a trade unionist since his grandfather was him took him to the country at the age of seven. At that time he was managing director of “Die Logistiker”, a successful transport company with 300 employees, with whom he joined forces to manage the association. . “Our survival was threatened. We had to fight for our stadium. That was the key to improvement.”
In 2008, authorities were on the verge of shutting it down because it didn't meet requirements. The club asked businesses in the area (who donated the materials) and fans for help. More than 2,300 volunteers contributed 140,000 hours of unpaid work. Those who could paint, painted, and those who could sculpt, sculpted. And whoever didn't grabbed the shovel. That was the case at work. “I asked for three days off from my old job to help out. They made me dig to lay the foundation. People told the coordinator, “I've never built a stadium before, but if you tell me what I have to do, I'll try.”
The stadium's manual scoreboard. Daniel Ochoa de Olza
The playing field, which with 22,012 spectators (18,395 standing room and 3,617 seats) is one of the smallest in the Bundesliga, now belongs to the shareholders because it was put up for sale in 2011 to finance the renovation of the main stand. Campaigns (500 euros) in which the name of a sponsor was avoided. “With a maximum of 10 actions per person,” explains Arbeit. “If not, a millionaire could have come and bought them all.” Now a future expansion to 37,770 locations has been approved.
But how can such a club survive in today's football? “We know we cannot win a money dispute. “If you have less money, you have to make better decisions,” the president admits. Labor supports him: “When we played against Madrid, their leaders told us that they didn't know how they would compete with Saudi Arabia in the next decade. If Real Madrid says that, imagine us.”
Dirk Zingler, President of Union Berlin, in their stadium. Daniel Ochoa de Olza
Christopher Trimmel (Oberpullendorf, Austria, 1987) signed with Unión Berlin in 2014 and is now captain. “If you know the values and work ethic of this place, it is very easy to integrate. I think my biggest problem here was finding an apartment.” He now lives in Mitte, in the center of Berlin. “I like having everything at hand. “For me it’s like a family: every member counts.”
On Saturday they play against Eintracht Frankfurt and the Wuhlheide around the Alte Försterei will be red and white. Nearby bars like Union Tanke and Abseitenfalle are full early in the morning. And two hours before kick-off, the Waldseite stand, the busiest of all, is already full. In a corner to the right is a manual marker, still used out of tradition rather than necessity. Behind the other corner, the adjacent beer garden sells beers like there's no tomorrow. When the players go out to warm up, the Eisern Union, the official anthem, sung by Nina Hagen, the muse of German punk, plays. “Who doesn’t let the West buy them? “The union of iron!” is one of his verses, shouted at the top of his lungs and supported by an endless drumbeat. With the microphone in hand, Arbeit, today in his role as spokesman, presents the starting eleven from the center circle.
The team on the field.Daniel Ochoa de Olza
One of the regular guests in the stands is Silvio Titzmann (born 1975 in Ludwigsfelde, Brandenburg). “When I came to Berlin after reunification, I was looking for something that would combine football with my Eastern identity,” he explains before entering the pitch. “When we were relegated to the fourth division, we met my hometown club, Ludwigsfelder FC. We've never been this low before, and although there were thousands of followers, there was a somewhat sad atmosphere.” He is a season ticket holder, so each ticket costs 13.50 euros. And for the Champions League they received a package for the three group games for 75 euros. “Union is a romantic island in the ultra-capitalist sea of professional football. We oscillate between the nostalgia of being a humble neighborhood team and being part of a company. For us it's a gift to play in the first class, but I don't want to lose it,” he explains. Titzmann is thrilled when he talks about the historic promotion to the first class in 2019, which has never been achieved before. “I still get goosebumps. When the final ended it felt like an orgy!”
Minute and result today in the Alte Försterei? Goal against Union in the second minute. Great start. In the 14th minute the score fell to 0:2. Any normal fan would have reduced the decibels significantly. That's not the case. This is the ultimate bond between man and machine, a man-machine forged exclusively for animation. Even when the third and final goal was conceded, there was no calm. Some will think there are benefits to the job. Five minutes after it ended, no one had left. The employees line up in front of the forest side to thank them for their support. Work says goodbye to the fans on the microphone: “Come home safely.”
Silvio Titzmann, a fan of the team, pictured next to one of the murals near the stadium. Daniel Ochoa de Olza
A few weeks later, Urs Fischer left the bank after five successful years. The Swiss coach promoted the club to the first division and qualified it successively for the Conference League, the Europa League and the Champions League. He will be replaced by Croatian coach Nenad Bjelica. In another earlier, somewhat controversial decision, the board gave up its own pitch in the group stage of the Champions League to play on the other side of the city. With three times its capacity, the Olympic Stadium is home to Hertha Berlin, the West's most traditional team, which is now slumbering in the second division. “UEFA has requested 3,000 seats for sponsorship and official engagements. And that’s almost all of us at our headquarters,” argues Doblaré. “The entry should have been taken away from senior members to hand over to UEFA. And for Unión, football is just an excuse to create community.”
Berlin Union Party 1923. Daniel Ochoa de Olza
This is also evidenced by one of the club's maxims, “The strong help the weak,” which the social projects of his foundation are based on. Or associations like Grenzlos Eisern, which collect donations to help the homeless. Or the famous meeting every December 23rd in the Alte Försterei to sing Christmas carols (in 2022 there were 30,000 people). Or that wonderful nonsense that happened during the 2014 World Cup in Brazil. That summer, a huge screen was installed on the field and members were allowed to bring their chairs from home to watch all the games from the field. “I brought it with me too,” Arbeit remembers. “It was a deal for the local furniture stores because no one was taking their sofa back. “They all stayed there.”
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