If you are good, you can also refuse to play the club song. We’ve known this since the 90s.
Please don’t feed! The pranksters once hung up a sign like this in front of the announcer’s stand in Erding’s Eisstadion. And rightly so, who knows how the trio would have escalated. And with that, welcome to part two of our stories about the special species known as the “stadium announcer.” Starting with the Crazy Ducks. This is the name of the ice hockey fan club, in which Patrick Tischer, Mike Lechner and Thomas Kahl were also at home before they revolutionized the announcements on the ice rink.
Where previously two-minute penalties were announced, such as at the train station, EAV’s Falco Amadeus parody (“You must know when to leave”) now aired. Or if someone from both teams had to go into the penalty area, Peter Rubin sang: “We two are going somewhere.” When goals were conceded, it was Gitte’s turn: “Don’t be too happy!” wrestling on the ice, Rocky played the classic ‘Eye of the Tiger,’” recalls Thomas Kahl. Once the referee let it be known “that we shouldn’t overdo it,” he says. “But actually everyone loved us, even the opponents.” For example, Weißwasser’s moved fans, “because we played against the Puhdys”.
Weisswasser in Erding? Yes, we’re talking about the 90s, when the puck chasers were still called “Erding Jets” and there were 3,000 spectators at the stadium against Deggendorf. And when there was no Spotify or Deezer. For Thomas Kahl, that was the ‘Musicworld’ shop which was across from his garage ‘and where I was allowed to borrow all the CDs’.
And then the work began for him: finding the individual sequences and recording them on music cassettes, which he then burned to CD by a specialist in Taufkirchen. Eventually, the trio had around 150 musical sequences on two CDs. “But since we had two CD players at our disposal, you had to have quick fingers depending on the situation and use the search button to find the right snippet of what was happening in the game. Our Mike mastered it brilliantly,” says Kahl.
The roles were divided: Tom, the musical sniper, quick-fingered Mike and Patrick Tischer, “the best stadium announcer in the world”, as Thomas Kahl puts it. “And I mean it. It’s amazing how Patrick has kept people in check and has heated up the atmosphere.” That’s why he once received a call from the association. “It was a subpoena. Patrick had to go to a stadium announcer course.” What Tischer didn’t know: “The phone call was a telephonic joke from Radio Arabella, which was also broadcast at the time.” Ruthless by his dear colleagues. ” He was a little grumpy there,” Kahl says with a smile.
The management of the ice hockey department is also offended. The crew had recorded one song: “We are the Jets”. Kahl: “It was horrible. We played it once and then refused. They weren’t so happy there, but other than that we were allowed to do what we wanted.”
As a general rule, stadium announcers should not be interfered with when it comes to selecting music. Wartenberg’s Franz Dellel was also angry. The Bon Jovi fan hired older people who wanted Bavarian marching music and not this noise. “He wasn’t kidding and threatened to resign,” says Thomas Rademacher, who always sits next to him, ticks and manages the scoreboard – and sweats regularly because Mr. Dellel “only shows up fully relaxed 15 minutes before the game and then has one or the other technical discussion”.
FYI: The folk music thing isn’t always a bad idea. Lukas Wetzel relied on the music of the brass band in TSV Dorfen’s home game against Rosenheim this year because the game took place during the Dorfen folk festival. Then, when we entered, “Auf der Vogelwiese” and other very appropriate things went on. He had chosen “40 Years of the Flippers” as the lens music. “And because we won 7:1, it was a continuous cycle,” recalls his brother and TSV sporting director Markus Wetzel. “People loved it, we’ll do it again next year.” Let’s hope: both! Music so warm – and win 7:1.
We want to close with the first days of advertising in stadiums. We recall Georg Harrer, president of TSV Erding in the 1960s, who disappeared into his dressing room in the upper corner of the stand with a complete record collection and then hung up on it. A classic: “What does a skier need?” He always played it. Even in the middle of summer.
