Yesterday morning, the morning of the England-Germany match, I told Maya: “today we are going to have a lesson in being an opposition, hardcore”. I dressed her in the holy red shirt (number 11, of course) that I bought on my last visit to Old Trafford, and dressed myself in the lucky jacket I am wearing for every important match since the 99′ final. “Don’t you think you are a little bit over the top?” asked die Frau. “Two against 80 millions? you have more chance in Iran”. But Sundays are mine to decide.
We walked up Kastanienallee amongst the headlines that cried “we are all Ozil”, and “make England look old”, and other headline from the top of the German schmaltz. Three youngsters came out from the language school. they had the German flag wrapped around their hips and were wearing these Hawaiian paper necklaces with the colors of the German flag. They were speaking French. “This is an elimination study”, I pointed to Maya, “defeated French embracing Germany is the opposite of opposition”.
Other kids were eating Croissants and drinking fresh orange juice with their families in the cafes. Maya was also getting hungry. We stopped at a British place with the stupid name “Fishing for Compliments” and ordered cereal and pale tea. Suffering is part of being in the opposition, I told Maya, unless you are Ehud Barak.
Young and old people, males and females, three-generations families were booing us as they passed by. Some of them chanted “Deutschland, Deutschland”. Maya had it. “kein England”, she screamed at me and start chanting “Deutschland, Deutschland” with the masses. I bought her a croissant.
We started to head home. Our mission as opposition, I told Maya, is to represent the minority that is not part of the regime, to criticize the leadership and try to topple it and show an alternative to the government. Since Maya understands much better when I demonstrate, I climbed on a pole and started screaming: “En-ge-land, En-ge-land”, and “Yogi Love is not a German name”, and “tonight we are going to bit the shit out of you”. The way England was playing until now I took the fifth on presenting an alternative.
At night Maya asked why Papa is so sad. I explained to her that this is how it is when you are the opposition to a totalitarian regimes. That they will step on you and you can’t expect the judicial system to assist you (even if you are right). I told her that she must get used to the fact that she will never enjoy the high life involved with being part of the regime, and that she will have to go to war with characters like David James and John Terry. At that point, Maya started to cry hysterically. I promised her that on Saturday Germany will faces an opponent that knows a thing or two about opposition, but it didn’t comfort her.
I exchanged places with die Frau. I went out to hang the Argentinean flag from our balcony. Die Frau was singing Maya songs. When they got to “Deutschland, Deutschland” I could hear Maya snoring.
