St Pauli: Bundesliga promotion and leftist principles combine (with ‘death head’ flag)
When the whistle blew, supporters from every corner of the Millerntor-Stadion poured onto the pitch. After a 3-1 win over Osnabruck, FC St.Pauli had been promoted back to the Bundesliga, Germany’s highest division, for the first time in 13 years.
The players vanished. Eventually, they reappeared high on the shoulders of their adoring public. Captain Jackson Irvine, from Australia via Glasgow Celtic, Hulland Hibernian. Dapo Afolayan, who had wandered the football world in search of a home, before finding one in Hamburg. And Fabian Hurzeler, born in Houston, Texas. Still just 31 years old but already one of the brightest coaching minds in Europe.
These are not normal characters, nor is this a normal story. But then St.Pauli are not a normal club. Owned entirely by their members and probably more famous for their left-wing values than their football, they have styled themselves as the sport’s conscience. The cost of which is to be seen as a place where causes and inclusivity are more important than the score.
But on Sunday, as the flares burned under a white-hot Hamburg sun and the fans and players celebrated together — holding each other, laughing, shouting and weeping — football seemed to matter more than anything else.
The Millerntor sits at the head of the Reeperbahn.
It’s the most famous road in Hamburg and at night, it plunges through bright neon and throbbing bass. It is the city’s red-light district. But it is a mess of music, culture, artisan coffee and pirated television feeds, too, and that makes it more of a dark heart than just a grubby Gomorrah.
Not far away is Hafenstrasse, which winds for miles along the north bank of the River Elbe and under the shadow of the tall cranes that still work the harbour docks. That is where St.Pauli’s rebellious spirit comes from. It also forged the identity the world knows today. The skull-and-crossbones. The anarchy. The desire to be different. It comes from there.
In 1981, a dozen houses on Hafenstrasse were squatted by students, punks and activists. It created a decade-long conflict between those occupying residents and a city determined to evict them. The conflict between the police and the squatters turned Hafenstrasse into a battleground and, ultimately, into a global news story.
One of the residents was Doc Mabuse, a local punk and St.Pauli fan who had been going to the Millerntor since the late 1970s. One Saturday in the mid-80s, he bought a Totenkopf from the local fair, stapled it to a broom handle and took it into the ground. In one form or another, the Totenkopft — literally “death head” — has been there ever since.
The mood was ripe for rebellion. Hamburg’s docks were in decline, gentrification was driving people from their communities and a leftist movement, inspired by that social decay, had focus and energy. At the same time, a rising far-right presence at Hamburger SV, by far the city’s biggest and most successful club, was driving supporters in search of something different.
That is the abridged version of the St.Pauli’s founding myth. Over the decades, the club became home to the disaffected, the disenfranchised and the displaced, and St.Pauli’s reputation, as one of the few football clubs to have a distinct political identity, is a codification of that.
Oke Gottlich used to stand on the Millerntor’s terraces. Gottlich is still a fan, but he has worn many hats. Fanzine writer. Journalist. Record label founder. He has been St.Pauli’s president since November 2014 and The Athleticmeets him in the weeks before promotion is secured.
He is someone with whom you can talk for hours. About football. About Hamburg. About the world. He is idealistic and forthright, and unapologetically so.
“Maybe this sounds too romantic and utopian, but I wish we could work together to make the world better. There are so many things in the football industry that are headed in the wrong direction. I want to say: where is the money coming from? Why are we taking this money? Why is it the most unregulated industry in the world?”
St.Pauli’s promotion will cause little more than a ripple at the top of the game. But to Gottlich, the success is still one in the eye for the orthodoxy.
“Most people from conservative football believe participation, democracy, membership-driven models can‘t be successful. I want to run against this wall as long as I can. Even if it leaves me with a bloody head, I don’t care. I want something with the labels of participation and transparency to succeed. Not just this old model where there is one captain – one guy with a lot of money or a lot of power.”
The value of this promotion is proof that a different approach can work. Different ideals, too. In 2009, St.Pauli became the first German club to adopt a set of guiding principles around social responsibility. One of Gottlich’s predecessors, Corny Littmann, was the first gay president of a German football club. Today, three of the four vice-presidents are women.
Promotion amplifies that example. But it also creates a complication. To some, St.Pauli’s identity is too close to being a brand. Their ubiquitous Totenkopf, seen on clothing and merchandise around the world, has come to represent the endemic commercialism in football. Mabuse, for instance, has in recent years become happier at Altona 93, an even smaller Hamburg club, currently playing in the fifth tier. Promotion will win even more new fans and bring even greater attention.
Gottlich is not afraid of the conversation about commercialism; he does not accept that the club has to choose between its many positions and its substantial commercial revenue.
“Yes, we are not quite understandable for people,” he says, “because on one side we are commercially successful and on the other we are against commercialisation in football. How does this fit together? People have to understand that it’s not a marketing plan to be against modern football. It’s a strong attitude and I believe that it’s better for participation, the community and the integrity of the competition.”
“I want to have the most successful FC St.Pauli, because the more successful we are, the more we can present (the) values that we are all promoting in our daily lives.”
It’s an area in which the club are misunderstood. St.Pauli is not a church and Gottlich is not a preacher. Instead, to hear him explain the club’s world view — beyond the central tenets of standing against racism, fascism, misogyny and homophobia — is just a reflection of its membership. On an individual basis, the club do not impose a belief system from above.
“The only thing for me is that it has to be left of the middle and progressive. I’m not going to dictate what standpoints we have on different issues. People have to develop their own ideas.
“This club is in permanent transformation. This is really important because progress and values are changing. So, we have affordable ticketing prices so that people can bring their ideas into the Millerntor. We want young people to be able to come into the stadium as well and bring their ideas with them.”
“We have a 10,000 standing terrace on the gegengerade where the tickets are €12 (£10; $13). This is so important. This social aspect. And it’s one of the roots, saying, ‘we want people in the stadium who can’t pay €70 or €50.”
One of the reasons why ‘conservative football’, to borrow Gottlich’s term, believes fan-owned clubs cannot work is because of internal conflict. That will be the case at St.Pauli and during our conversation, he runs through the myriad issues raging all at once.
Is the social price point correct? Is the commitment to sustainable kit manufacturing the right approach, given that organic materials come at extra cost? On and on; St.Pauli might be the biggest and loudest town hall in Hamburg.
Another, clearly, is the relationship between the ideas and the team. How important is the football? St.Pauli began to face a backlash during the last decade because of a perceived disparity. They were too popular. They became very famous all over the world without actually achieving anything on the pitch. Did it matter? It did to Gottlich.
Back in 2015, he was interviewed by the writer and historian Uli Hesse for EightByEight magazine. He was just a year into his presidency. The previous season, St.Pauli had only just avoided relegation to the third tier and, unbeknownst to him, were due to spend another nine years in the 2.Bundesliga.
He was unequivocal in what he wanted St.Pauli to be.
“We will always take a stand against racism and homophobia, always look out after the weak and the poor, because it’s important for us. It’s in our blood. But we want to see that same passion and effort on the football pitch! It’s got to be about football. We have to ask ourselves, ‘What kind of football do we want St Pauli to play?’ And the answer has to be: football that will thrill the people here.”
This year, the football hasthrilled people.
St.Pauli’s rise under Hurzeler has been a joy. He has made them among the most attractive teams in the 2.Bundesliga, with a style built on short, ambitious passing, quick changes of rhythm and a determination to play from anywhere.
This promotion can be traced back to the end of 2022 when Hurzeler was appointed in strange circumstances. The previous season, St.Pauli had seen another promotion slip through their hands. In the months after, amid sales of influential players and with damaged morale, their form fell away. As European football paused for the World Cup in Qatar, the team were out of the 2.Bundesliga relegation places only on goal difference. Timo Schultz, the coach — a former player and a local hero — paid the price with his job. Hurzeler, one of his assistants, but only 29, was appointed to replace him.
Hurzeler is a compelling character. Smart and thoughtful in person, but occasionally maniacal on the touchline. It only took him until February to collect seven yellow cards this season. He is no wallflower. But that passion for the game makes him extremely popular. And he has a mind for it that should one day make him extremely successful. That combination has now taken St.Pauli to the Bundesliga. In time, it should take Hurzeler to the very top of the game.
He was born in Texas but left the United States when he was just a few years old. He is one of four children to a mother and father who worked in dentistry and who moved from Zurich to Freiburg and, finally, to Munich, all the while bouncing back to the U.S. on family camper van holidays.
Back in Europe, his football career was not quite what he wanted it to be. He played for Bayern Munich’s II team but never rose above Regionalliga level. He was a combative, occasionally wild midfielder, but of clear intelligence. He was a player-coach by 23, an assistant with the DFB’s (German Football’s Association) age group sides by 25, and became Schulz’s assistant at St.Pauli when he was only 27.
When The Athleticwent to meet him, in January 2023, he was 29, had been coaching in the 2.Bundesliga for six weeks and was still to attain his full qualifications. He had asked the players whether he had their support in taking over. They did and they moved forward together.
Hurzeler is one of those coaches who speaks of the game in detail rather than generalities. Give him the chance and he will talk about rest defence and stability in transition. A phrase that is commonly used to describe his coaching is that he sees the whole pitch. He knows when to make football complex but he understands how to make it simple.
“I spent 10 years at Bayern, so it’s in my DNA to want possession and to dictate the game,” he told The Athletic. “That belief is still deep inside me. But I’ve learnt so much in the second division, which is a lot about long balls and set pieces and that you have to be very intense against the ball. You need to be able to defend deep and to defend high.”
There is no question he has built an attractive team. But they are a smart one, too, and have adopted the set-piece nous that he described. Hurzeler’s St.Pauli have scored the third most goals from free-kicks and corners this season. They have conceded the fewest.
They have been tough, too: they were undefeated through the first seven months of this season.
Perhaps the most impressive aspect, though, is just how many of his players are in the form of their lives. St.Pauli are not a pauper in second-division terms, but neither do they have the financial advantages of Schalke, Hamburg or Hannover. St.Pauli’s wage spend is roughly the seventh-highest in the league but is only 40 per cent of Schalke’s and just over half of Hamburg’s.
The result is a squad of stories. Captain Irvine, who emerged from a financial mess at Hull City, via Hibernian, to become a deeply beloved figure. Afolayan, whose circuitous route has led him from Chelseato Canada, West Hamto Bolton, and now to the Bundesliga. Elias Saad, a winger who joined St.Pauli from the Regionalliga, Germany’s fourth-tier, has become a full Tunisia international within 18 months. Marcel Hartel might be Hurzeler’s player of the season. At 28, attacking midfielder Hartel had never scored more than five goals in a season. This year, he has 16 and counting.
There are many more. Each of them different. Somehow playing in perfect, intricate harmony.
But maybe that is exactly right metaphor for St.Pauli. Despite the many labels and the clarity of vision, no one fan seems exactly like the next. The cynics will say they are a club of cool, where nobody is half-a-step out of fashion. The scenes at the Millerntor say differently, though. Image was nothing under the flares and fireworks, and nothing mattered more than the fact this wild bunch, with its old and its young, its locals, its foreigners and its strays who belong nowhere other than in St.Pauli, are now marching on the Bundesliga.
https://theathletic.com/5488021/2024/05/13/st-pauli-promotion-death-head/
St Pauli: Bundesliga promotion and leftist principles combine (with ‘death head’ flag)
When the whistle blew, supporters from every corner of the Millerntor-Stadion poured onto the pitch. After a 3-1 win over Osnabruck, FC St.Pauli had been promoted back to the Bundesliga, Germany’s highest division, for the first time in 13 years.
The players vanished. Eventually, they reappeared high on the shoulders of their adoring public. Captain Jackson Irvine, from Australia via Glasgow Celtic, Hulland Hibernian. Dapo Afolayan, who had wandered the football world in search of a home, before finding one in Hamburg. And Fabian Hurzeler, born in Houston, Texas. Still just 31 years old but already one of the brightest coaching minds in Europe.
These are not normal characters, nor is this a normal story. But then St.Pauli are not a normal club. Owned entirely by their members and probably more famous for their left-wing values than their football, they have styled themselves as the sport’s conscience. The cost of which is to be seen as a place where causes and inclusivity are more important than the score.
But on Sunday, as the flares burned under a white-hot Hamburg sun and the fans and players celebrated together — holding each other, laughing, shouting and weeping — football seemed to matter more than anything else.
The Millerntor sits at the head of the Reeperbahn.
It’s the most famous road in Hamburg and at night, it plunges through bright neon and throbbing bass. It is the city’s red-light district. But it is a mess of music, culture, artisan coffee and pirated television feeds, too, and that makes it more of a dark heart than just a grubby Gomorrah.
Not far away is Hafenstrasse, which winds for miles along the north bank of the River Elbe and under the shadow of the tall cranes that still work the harbour docks. That is where St.Pauli’s rebellious spirit comes from. It also forged the identity the world knows today. The skull-and-crossbones. The anarchy. The desire to be different. It comes from there.
In 1981, a dozen houses on Hafenstrasse were squatted by students, punks and activists. It created a decade-long conflict between those occupying residents and a city determined to evict them. The conflict between the police and the squatters turned Hafenstrasse into a battleground and, ultimately, into a global news story.
One of the residents was Doc Mabuse, a local punk and St.Pauli fan who had been going to the Millerntor since the late 1970s. One Saturday in the mid-80s, he bought a Totenkopf from the local fair, stapled it to a broom handle and took it into the ground. In one form or another, the Totenkopft — literally “death head” — has been there ever since.
The mood was ripe for rebellion. Hamburg’s docks were in decline, gentrification was driving people from their communities and a leftist movement, inspired by that social decay, had focus and energy. At the same time, a rising far-right presence at Hamburger SV, by far the city’s biggest and most successful club, was driving supporters in search of something different.
That is the abridged version of the St.Pauli’s founding myth. Over the decades, the club became home to the disaffected, the disenfranchised and the displaced, and St.Pauli’s reputation, as one of the few football clubs to have a distinct political identity, is a codification of that.
Oke Gottlich used to stand on the Millerntor’s terraces. Gottlich is still a fan, but he has worn many hats. Fanzine writer. Journalist. Record label founder. He has been St.Pauli’s president since November 2014 and The Athleticmeets him in the weeks before promotion is secured.
He is someone with whom you can talk for hours. About football. About Hamburg. About the world. He is idealistic and forthright, and unapologetically so.
“Maybe this sounds too romantic and utopian, but I wish we could work together to make the world better. There are so many things in the football industry that are headed in the wrong direction. I want to say: where is the money coming from? Why are we taking this money? Why is it the most unregulated industry in the world?”
St.Pauli’s promotion will cause little more than a ripple at the top of the game. But to Gottlich, the success is still one in the eye for the orthodoxy.
“Most people from conservative football believe participation, democracy, membership-driven models can‘t be successful. I want to run against this wall as long as I can. Even if it leaves me with a bloody head, I don’t care. I want something with the labels of participation and transparency to succeed. Not just this old model where there is one captain – one guy with a lot of money or a lot of power.”
The value of this promotion is proof that a different approach can work. Different ideals, too. In 2009, St.Pauli became the first German club to adopt a set of guiding principles around social responsibility. One of Gottlich’s predecessors, Corny Littmann, was the first gay president of a German football club. Today, three of the four vice-presidents are women.
Promotion amplifies that example. But it also creates a complication. To some, St.Pauli’s identity is too close to being a brand. Their ubiquitous Totenkopf, seen on clothing and merchandise around the world, has come to represent the endemic commercialism in football. Mabuse, for instance, has in recent years become happier at Altona 93, an even smaller Hamburg club, currently playing in the fifth tier. Promotion will win even more new fans and bring even greater attention.
Gottlich is not afraid of the conversation about commercialism; he does not accept that the club has to choose between its many positions and its substantial commercial revenue.
“Yes, we are not quite understandable for people,” he says, “because on one side we are commercially successful and on the other we are against commercialisation in football. How does this fit together? People have to understand that it’s not a marketing plan to be against modern football. It’s a strong attitude and I believe that it’s better for participation, the community and the integrity of the competition.”
“I want to have the most successful FC St.Pauli, because the more successful we are, the more we can present (the) values that we are all promoting in our daily lives.”
It’s an area in which the club are misunderstood. St.Pauli is not a church and Gottlich is not a preacher. Instead, to hear him explain the club’s world view — beyond the central tenets of standing against racism, fascism, misogyny and homophobia — is just a reflection of its membership. On an individual basis, the club do not impose a belief system from above.
“The only thing for me is that it has to be left of the middle and progressive. I’m not going to dictate what standpoints we have on different issues. People have to develop their own ideas.
“This club is in permanent transformation. This is really important because progress and values are changing. So, we have affordable ticketing prices so that people can bring their ideas into the Millerntor. We want young people to be able to come into the stadium as well and bring their ideas with them.”
“We have a 10,000 standing terrace on the gegengerade where the tickets are €12 (£10; $13). This is so important. This social aspect. And it’s one of the roots, saying, ‘we want people in the stadium who can’t pay €70 or €50.”
One of the reasons why ‘conservative football’, to borrow Gottlich’s term, believes fan-owned clubs cannot work is because of internal conflict. That will be the case at St.Pauli and during our conversation, he runs through the myriad issues raging all at once.
Is the social price point correct? Is the commitment to sustainable kit manufacturing the right approach, given that organic materials come at extra cost? On and on; St.Pauli might be the biggest and loudest town hall in Hamburg.
Another, clearly, is the relationship between the ideas and the team. How important is the football? St.Pauli began to face a backlash during the last decade because of a perceived disparity. They were too popular. They became very famous all over the world without actually achieving anything on the pitch. Did it matter? It did to Gottlich.
Back in 2015, he was interviewed by the writer and historian Uli Hesse for EightByEight magazine. He was just a year into his presidency. The previous season, St.Pauli had only just avoided relegation to the third tier and, unbeknownst to him, were due to spend another nine years in the 2.Bundesliga.
He was unequivocal in what he wanted St.Pauli to be.
“We will always take a stand against racism and homophobia, always look out after the weak and the poor, because it’s important for us. It’s in our blood. But we want to see that same passion and effort on the football pitch! It’s got to be about football. We have to ask ourselves, ‘What kind of football do we want St Pauli to play?’ And the answer has to be: football that will thrill the people here.”
This year, the football hasthrilled people.
St.Pauli’s rise under Hurzeler has been a joy. He has made them among the most attractive teams in the 2.Bundesliga, with a style built on short, ambitious passing, quick changes of rhythm and a determination to play from anywhere.
This promotion can be traced back to the end of 2022 when Hurzeler was appointed in strange circumstances. The previous season, St.Pauli had seen another promotion slip through their hands. In the months after, amid sales of influential players and with damaged morale, their form fell away. As European football paused for the World Cup in Qatar, the team were out of the 2.Bundesliga relegation places only on goal difference. Timo Schultz, the coach — a former player and a local hero — paid the price with his job. Hurzeler, one of his assistants, but only 29, was appointed to replace him.
Hurzeler is a compelling character. Smart and thoughtful in person, but occasionally maniacal on the touchline. It only took him until February to collect seven yellow cards this season. He is no wallflower. But that passion for the game makes him extremely popular. And he has a mind for it that should one day make him extremely successful. That combination has now taken St.Pauli to the Bundesliga. In time, it should take Hurzeler to the very top of the game.
He was born in Texas but left the United States when he was just a few years old. He is one of four children to a mother and father who worked in dentistry and who moved from Zurich to Freiburg and, finally, to Munich, all the while bouncing back to the U.S. on family camper van holidays.
Back in Europe, his football career was not quite what he wanted it to be. He played for Bayern Munich’s II team but never rose above Regionalliga level. He was a combative, occasionally wild midfielder, but of clear intelligence. He was a player-coach by 23, an assistant with the DFB’s (German Football’s Association) age group sides by 25, and became Schulz’s assistant at St.Pauli when he was only 27.
When The Athleticwent to meet him, in January 2023, he was 29, had been coaching in the 2.Bundesliga for six weeks and was still to attain his full qualifications. He had asked the players whether he had their support in taking over. They did and they moved forward together.
Hurzeler is one of those coaches who speaks of the game in detail rather than generalities. Give him the chance and he will talk about rest defence and stability in transition. A phrase that is commonly used to describe his coaching is that he sees the whole pitch. He knows when to make football complex but he understands how to make it simple.
“I spent 10 years at Bayern, so it’s in my DNA to want possession and to dictate the game,” he told The Athletic. “That belief is still deep inside me. But I’ve learnt so much in the second division, which is a lot about long balls and set pieces and that you have to be very intense against the ball. You need to be able to defend deep and to defend high.”
There is no question he has built an attractive team. But they are a smart one, too, and have adopted the set-piece nous that he described. Hurzeler’s St.Pauli have scored the third most goals from free-kicks and corners this season. They have conceded the fewest.
They have been tough, too: they were undefeated through the first seven months of this season.
Perhaps the most impressive aspect, though, is just how many of his players are in the form of their lives. St.Pauli are not a pauper in second-division terms, but neither do they have the financial advantages of Schalke, Hamburg or Hannover. St.Pauli’s wage spend is roughly the seventh-highest in the league but is only 40 per cent of Schalke’s and just over half of Hamburg’s.
The result is a squad of stories. Captain Irvine, who emerged from a financial mess at Hull City, via Hibernian, to become a deeply beloved figure. Afolayan, whose circuitous route has led him from Chelseato Canada, West Hamto Bolton, and now to the Bundesliga. Elias Saad, a winger who joined St.Pauli from the Regionalliga, Germany’s fourth-tier, has become a full Tunisia international within 18 months. Marcel Hartel might be Hurzeler’s player of the season. At 28, attacking midfielder Hartel had never scored more than five goals in a season. This year, he has 16 and counting.
There are many more. Each of them different. Somehow playing in perfect, intricate harmony.
But maybe that is exactly right metaphor for St.Pauli. Despite the many labels and the clarity of vision, no one fan seems exactly like the next. The cynics will say they are a club of cool, where nobody is half-a-step out of fashion. The scenes at the Millerntor say differently, though. Image was nothing under the flares and fireworks, and nothing mattered more than the fact this wild bunch, with its old and its young, its locals, its foreigners and its strays who belong nowhere other than in St.Pauli, are now marching on the Bundesliga.
https://theathletic.com/5488021/2024/05/13/st-pauli-promotion-death-head/
