Switzerland versus Andorra, or the perfect boredom

When I turn on the TV shortly after nine o’clock, the first thing I see is Thomas Müller’s fist in the air. He just scored 1-0 for Germany against France. With his eyes wide open and his jaw jutted out, he looks like a piranha that has tasted blood.

There is almost nothing more exciting than watching a broken German team come back to life. It’s like the old action movies where the villain lies defeated in the dust after the confrontation, but then rises again – completely torn and deformed, to resist even more powerfully. It’s pure drama.

But as I get older, there are more and more evenings when such excitement becomes too much for me. There are three working days left until the weekend and forces must be divided. And yesterday I just felt like having a light conversation. Something that chatters along, takes me along, but doesn’t burden me. In concrete terms: Switzerland against Andorra.

When I switch, I end up in the middle of a minutes-long ball push. Pure delay. I don’t want to describe it as a sporting achievement, but it was a balm for the soul. Every cloister is like a little massage. I’m almost glad that no Swiss dares to engage in a duel. That would be too much excitement. If Sascha Ruefer would still whisper now, the ASMR experience would be perfect.

Of course this is paradoxical. Football is popular because it is exciting and emotions run high. But football is like life: boredom is frowned upon – and yet it is the rule. And another parallel: only those who can resist the desire for more and more sensation will discover the beauty of simplicity.

That’s it for now with the sugar bag wisdom, because shortly before half time someone else hits the nail on the head: it is Sascha Ruefer with a joke. I laugh a little. The commentator also recognizes the quality of his statement, but decides to break all the rules of comedy and repeat the statement – including explanation. Oh, Sasha. You can also be relied on.

Peace.

Salzgeber and Huggel stand there like two detectives in a crime story who spend half the film completely in the dark. They still analyze bravely. The tonality is perfect – a balancing act of resignation and perseverance. The gear that needs to be shifted higher is also stated. Confirming what is expected is part of building a sense of home.

Itten provides the higher gear a little later. With his medium-length hair and elastic band, he looks like an art student who tried to make a bust of Sergio Ramos but was called to lunch shortly before it was finished. That’s not a joke, I love Itten. Thanks to his goal, Swiss tunnels are finally making positive headlines again.

Am I happy with this 1-0? Momoll. Am I going crazy about this? Not at all. Am I relieved? Not even that.

The goal is a little soul pleaser. I never doubted it would fall. It is simply the logical consequence of the development of the Swiss national team over the past decades. The constant feeling of uncertainty that the national team gave me before the turn of the millennium has long since been replaced by mature confidence. And the stoic appearance in Sitten only confirms this.

At this stage of the game I have already retreated to the end of the bench. I have been wearing progressive lenses for a while now. Actually a beautiful thing. But there is a small disadvantage: my usual head position in front of the television no longer works. That’s why I can only see the rest of the game in a blur. However, that does not change the matter. I could hardly tell the Andorrans apart. Except Cucu. He also looks blurry, just like David Schwimmer.

Then Xhaka makes it 2-0. The so-called spitfire reacts extremely coolly and deliberately. I believe that Xhaka’s emotional outbursts are purely a calculation to light up the snarky noses in the team. An indication of this theory is the use of Akanji after a bullying mistake on Ndoye. He enters the Andorrans as a track clearer. The Manchester City star, who is as smart as he calculates, is pulling in the same direction as the captain. And the oft-quoted shock actually ripples through the team.

I love Akanji and I love Xhaka – and I’m a little proud. These are good guys. Also Vargas, the after-work beer among footballers: a bit sparkling, but unfortunately without much effect. Or the Okafor, what a machine. Frisky, unspectacular, but reliable – exactly my type. I feel fatherly feelings for almost all the players of the national team.

It is now raining in Sitten. Andorra’s coach is taking the opportunity to show the world how committed he is to his team. And what better way to do that than leaving yourself, albeit uselessly, out in the rain?

Just when I think it’s possible to shoot from a distance in the rain, Rodriguez takes it. The man with the signature ponytail grew up just a few hundred yards from where I live and has had a huge career. He’s gone now. I moved there. Many years and many of his millions later our thoughts cross. Of course he misses the goal, but Shaqiri scores moments later. Three zero.

It’s the perfect result. After four goals, people would have started talking about fireworks again and becoming exuberant. Two or fewer goals would have led to renewed discussions. But Dreinull is right in the middle of the comfort zone. This result requires no analysis. You can tick it off without discussion – or just praise it. This game helped me have a perfect evening. No unnecessary tension, but still some entertainment. Just the way I want it more and more the longer it goes on. Just so I can sleep well afterwards.