Supporters who sing when it goes badly are supporters. Supporters who gather afterwards are a problem, and everybody inside the building knows which of the two this now is.
Position 10 and 7 points, and the table gets read bottom-up in this part of town. The calendar has stopped being a schedule and started being a countdown.
“I listened, I thought about it, and I am staying. That is the whole story.” The clubs had agreed a fee. Philipp Maybach had not agreed to go, which turned out to be the part that mattered.
The phone has started ringing about Léon Pöhls again, and this time the name on the line is Altach. Grodig are listening politely and promising nothing.
Everything was agreed with Red Bull Salzburg and then the doctor spoke. Grodig have walked away from a signing on the advice of somebody who never saw him play, which is how it is supposed to work.
Grodig asked and Wolfsberger AC said no without discussing a figure. It is the least ambiguous answer in football and the one clubs most often come back to test.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Christoph Ochrana was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
0 appearances and 0 goals is not a season away, it is a year lost. He is back at Grodig no further forward, and everybody involved will explain why it was not their fault.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Grodig, and both men came out saying it was fine.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Grodig can pretend not to have heard.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Patrick Scheibenhofer was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
“I watch every Grodig game from here. That says everything about where my head is.” The loan at Sumgayit runs its course, but his heart never made the trip.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Grodig this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Grodig, and both men came out saying it was fine.
A conversation in the manager’s office, and a commitment that came out of it. Promises like that are cheap to make and expensive to break, and Léon Pöhls has written the date down.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Grodig this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Patrick Scheibenhofer was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
“Thirty minutes, door closed, everything said. We shook hands after.” Whatever was in the room stayed in the room, and Léon Pöhls trained the next morning like a man with less to carry.
It has been denied twice and printed three times, which is the usual arithmetic. Until Philipp Maybach signs something — a contract at Grodig or anywhere else — this column belongs to him.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
“The supporters are entitled to be angry. So am I. We will put it right.” 1‑3, a manager saying the necessary things, and a dressing room that heard a different version of them.
Raphael Alaba was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
The team sheet says it in public every week until it changes. The only version of being dropped a footballer cannot argue with, and the one he takes hardest.
Every squad has one of these fixtures for somebody every season. This one is Alexander Schwaighofer’s: the club that knew him first, the supporters who will decide in the first minute whether to applaud, and Grodig needing him to play as if none of it matters.
The deal with Red Bull Salzburg is done in every sense but the one that puts him on the pitch. Nothing goes wrong at this stage, except on the occasions when it does.
3 matches, no goals, and a training ground that has tried everything. It will end — droughts always do — but nobody at Grodig can tell you which week it ends in.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Christoph Ochrana was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
“I have tried. I have really tried, and every day I wake up in the wrong place.” Nobody at Grodig can coach that out of a man, and nobody there is pretending to.
Admira Wacker have been asked whether they would lend him. Loans are agreed quickly or not at all, and this one will be one or the other by the weekend.