Originally published in Eight By Eight magazine. Three flags are flying atop the building. The middle one carries the FC St Pauli crest and club colours, brown and white. The one on the left advertises a crowdfunding project to raise money for underprivileged residents of St Pauli, the working-class quarter of Hamburg.
The one on the right is the gay pride flag. I turn around. Back then, fresh out of university, he was working in Freiburg, south of his hometown, Hamburg, for a Sunday newspaper. He was 10 years my junior, but I liked him instantly. We had some good conversations about football and music. During the few days I spent in Freiburg, his team suffered a devastating defeat at the hands of Energie Cottbus.
It was becoming obvious they might go down again after only one season in the top flight. Oke told me that he was part owner of a small music label which published the sort of offbeat electronic music and neofolk that I knew little about. He also said he was becoming interested in how to sell independent music through the internet.
During the 13 years since our last encounter, I might have crossed paths with him on many occasions. We could have met in one of the Bundesliga press rooms where we spent many afternoons, covering the game as football journalists. Or we could have met as fans β Oke often traveled with St Pauli and once sent me a Facebook message when the team hit the town where I lived. Unfortunately, I was away. Or we could have met in some dingy basement club, checking out the same obscure band.
One poster urges me to join a booster club trying to raise funds for the construction of a St Pauli museum. We have a story to tell. The incredible story of how a community-based club from Hamburg becomes one of the most famous football teams in Europe. Without big trophies. Without big money. The story of how an unruly bunch of anarchist squatters transformed what used to be a regular football club three decades ago is unique. And St Pauli are undeniably popular across borders.
