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European football reflects on a life too short

Roar Guru
28th September, 2011
9
1579 Reads

“In our achievement-oriented society a goalkeeper, the last bastion in defence, can’t be a depressive. So Robert summoned up a huge amount of strength to keep his depression secret. He locked himself away in his illness.”

This is just one of the many heartbreaking moments in Ronald Reng’s book A Life Too Short which tells the tragic story of former German goalkeeper Robert Enke who, after a long battle with depression, finally succumbed to his illness in November 2009.

Reng’s morose but heart wrenching tale has been causing quite the stir here in England this week upon its UK release, striking a chord right across the footballing spectrum and it’s had me wondering why.

My copy of the book arrived at my door yesterday morning as I was reflecting on Carlos Tevez’s refusal to come off the bench for Manchester City in their UEFA Champions League game with Bayern Munich the night before.

As I started reading the book it occurred to me that the reason Enke’s tale has caused such a response is it shines a light on the ludicrousness of a multimillion-dollar football industry where loyalty is an anachronism and self-preservation a necessity. Even more importantly A Life Too Short highlights the human reality of those involved in the game and the extraordinary world they live in.

As Reng writes in the book’s opening chapter about the response he got following his friend’s suicide, “(Enke’s) goalkeeping rivals, who were supposed to wear the mask of invulnerability in interviews in accordance with the law of professional sport, suddenly started airing their doubts and anxieties.”

It made me wonder what kind of parallel football universe we, as fans, journalist, coaches and players, have created. That we can all be guilty of forgetting the humanity of our fellow football lover as emotions of a dramatic result or strong opinion overwhelm us.

Yesterday morning after I had started reading A Life Too Short, I was sitting in a café sipping on an underwhelming English coffee as I chatted on the phone with a football journalist friend and colleague. He was telling me how vicious the comments had become on his blogs and all I could respond with was a simple, “Yeah mate, I know the feeling.”

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The thing is if I walked into any other workplace in the world and started abusing you or asking you to kill yourself (a response I’ve received in the past) I’d most likely be arrested if not beaten up for my trouble.

Yet it’s considered ok to hurl profanities at a player, coach or match official in the stands or leave flaming comments on a journalists work. Why? Because you’ve paid for your season ticket or $1.50 cover price? In my mind that’s a lame excuse and not a suitable justification.

While Robert Enke had become so adept at hiding his terribly painful illness that there was most likely very little anyone could have done to save him, that doesn’t mean we should continue confusing abuse for passion both on and off the terraces. That’s one of the lessons I’m taking from a life that was far too short.

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