Text: Martin Gresch

Give Me an H!

It was our last evening in Kharkiv in eastern Ukraine.

To close the International Media Tournament, the host club FC METALIST KHARKIV held a big banquet. It was 2011; the following year, 2012, the European Championship was to be held in Ukraine and Poland.

For this occasion, many foreign journalists’ teams had been invited to get to know the recently modernised stadium (39,000 spectators) and the city.

The big closing party was to stay in everyone’s memory. We sat in the large hall where the professional players and officials usually meet after matches – and that evening we, too, were treated like professionals. New local dishes kept being served. Simply wonderful!

At the beginning there were short speeches by the organisers, and the team managers also said a few words of praise for the excellent organisation. Then things quickly moved on to the festive part, and the mood grew more exuberant by the minute. People visited neighbouring tables and communicated in English or with hands and feet. There was a lot to talk about. How do journalists work in Germany, in Ukraine, in Russia or in Poland? How much freedom do you have in your daily work? What is the technical equipment like?

We were the most sought-after conversation partners, as we were the only Western European team at this tournament. We were often told that people had expected the Germans to be quite different – somehow “more serious and stiff”. I think we deliberately presented ourselves as open and uncomplicated here. Perhaps we contributed a little to international understanding that way.

At the end of the evening there was a kind of “fraternisation” of all the teams. Late at night some players began to sing and went from table to table. Every team now had to show off its singing skills. What the songs were about, we had no idea – one incomprehensible language followed the next. You got the feeling that this singing ritual is simply part of things in the East. All the players were full of enthusiasm! We Germans felt a little unsure. And then the inevitable happened: it was our German table’s turn. What should we sing? We weren’t prepared for this. Was there a song whose words we all knew? It had to be something fun, a party song. Then our player Stefan Fuckert took charge. He climbed onto his chair and shouted: “Give me an ‘H’!” All the Germans shouted “HAAAA”. “Give me a ‘U’!” Everyone shouted “UHHHH”. The other teams quickly caught on to the song’s simple pattern, and a carnival-style “HUMBA, HUMBA, TÄTÄRÄ” rang out through the whole hall.