This year marked the first time I can remember not watching the Super Bowl. While I am not a serious football fan, I enjoy the annual tradition of consuming gluttonous amounts of food and drink while watching someone else do something tremendously athletic as much as any other American. However, I also value my sleep—and waiting up until the 12:30 a.m. start time for the Sunday night game when my 8:30 a.m. classes loomed large just wasn’t in the cards for my American compatriots and me.
Yet, I still think that missing the big game left a longing in our collective psyche. Seeking a similar spiritual and aesthetic experience, albeit one within our newfound cultural context, we committed ourselves to seeing FC Bayern München—the most popular soccer team in Germany—take on their rival 1899 Hoffenheim the following weekend. And so we found ourselves boarding the train to Munich on Saturday morning at 9:30, the effects of Friday night debauchery outweighed by the feelings of excitement we felt at the prospect of our first “Fußball” game.
Our first stop after exiting the train, an hour and a half later, was Kaufhof, a chain department store in Germany. Here, we made the virtually obligatory purchase of red and white Bayern München scarves so there would be no doubt as to where our loyalties lay. And I mean virtually obligatory in the most literal sense—when we booked our tickets online, we were asked to check a box confirming that we intended to root for Bayern and against Hoffenheim.
Sporting our newly-adopted colors, we set out in search of a pub with cheap eats and a cozy atmosphere. However, while plenty of the establishments we passed fit the latter criteria, none fit the former. Clearly, we had taken for granted that we were in Marienplatz—the commercial center of the most expensive and arguably most touristy city in Germany. After several hours of ambling through bone-chilling temperatures and huddled masses of tourists, we accepted defeat and decided to eat at a Vinzenmurr, a chain butcher and delicatessen in Germany. We rationalized that at least this way we could save money while still eating authentic German cuisine, and placed our orders of currywurst, a popular dish consisting of pork sausage slathered with a sauce consisting of tomato paste and curry powder, served with french fries. Initially popularized as a street food in Berlin following World War II, currywurst was allegedly inspired by Germans observing Allied soldiers eating steak with ketchup.
After lunch, we made our way to the Hofbräuhaus, the oldest and most famous beer hall in Munich. The main hall holds several long wooden tables, where patrons drink beer side by side exclusively out of liter glasses as medieval music is piped in over loudspeakers. While Hofbräuhaus has accrued a reputation in recent years as a tourist trap that peddles a kitschy, cliché image of Bavarian culture, there is more to the place than that. Numerous Bayern München fans, who were clearly regulars, crowded into the hall and sang Bayern fight songs as they partook in their ritualistic “vorglüh,” or pregame drinking. Most of these fans left to catch the U-Bahn to Allianz Arena as time went by; but, for those who didn’t, a gigantic projector was unveiled so that fans without tickets could watch from the hall.
Ultimately, the game wasn’t particularly close, but it was exciting for us nonetheless. Bayern cruised to an easy 4-0 victory over Hoffenheim on the strength of an impressive two-goal performance by Arjen Robbin, an internationally renowned star forward from the Netherlands. However, what made more of an impression on me was the degree of unity and enthusiasm displayed by the Bayern fans. The section of spectators seated directly behind Hoffenheim’s goal spent the entirety of the first half jumping up and down in unison, creating the impression of watching waves bob up and down in a vast red ocean. As we sat in our seats that Saturday afternoon, gigantic pretzels, mustard-smothered bratwürste, and beers in hand, we brimmed with contentment. Our appetites were satiated—not only for a sort of cathartic overindulgence often labeled as quintessentially American, but also for a tremendously enjoyable cultural experience.
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