Lackner, Salzburg Dominate Bears / Young Stars Duel in Zurich
Observations & Opinions
From Harold Abrahams – Special Correspondent for TSS
And from Zino Stiles-Johnson and Thill Brenner – Correspondents for TSS
Interlaken, Switzerland – By Harold Abrahams – Special Correspondent for TSS
The Interlaken Yodelers have won four Cups in a little more than 130 years of competition. In 1912 and 2020, they hoisted the Meadow Cup. In 1920 and 2009, they won the Tyrol Cup. One must judge that four Cups is a modest haul for 270 campaigns, but the fans in Interlaken don’t seem to see it that way. Further, as the Yodelers prepared to face the Matterhorn Black Eagles on Saturday, they sat at 3—8—0 and in last place in the Alpine League, obviously the favorite currently to face automatic relegation to the Wheat League. That shapes up as a lost season, does it not? Yet, when I strolled along to the beautiful Meadow near Lake Thun, the jovial fans of the Yodelers were in a celebratory mood.
“We’re not Bern … we’re not Salzburg,” said long–time supporter Mikel Schaum, apparently voicing what many locals feel. “We love the boys, and we know they try their hardest every Saturday. Chris Ramsauer [Interlaken’s Middle Gate] owns the restaurant where my family eats dinner every Friday night, and he is a prince of a man. If we’re in the Alpine League, so be it. If they drop to the Wheat, well, we’ll still love coming down to the field and cheering for the team. There’s no shame in that – Klagenfurt, Aggsbach and Innsbruck – three of the Original Eight – are in the Wheat League this season …. It happens.”
And, after the Black Eagles claimed and maintained a lead on their way to a 25—20 road victory, that relegation looks more like a thing that will happen. Matterhorn Forward Alexis Geis has been the primary scorer for the men from Zermatt this year, and when he finds space, as he did on Saturday, he is a threat to score from any formation or distance. He found space, repeatedly, against a Yodelers defense that is several steps slow this season. The retirement two years ago of former Gate Heinz Buchel unsettled the back line, and this match was yet another example of the Yodelers’ inability to stifle their opponents’ attacks.
Nearby, the western end of the Thunersee was frozen over, and the wind blowing in across that vast flat surface was numbingly cold. Even Swiss hardened to their winters were eager to head back to town and find hot coffee and pastries. I found Schaum as we trundled back to town; he’s hard to miss: he’s 6’5” and was wearing the old–school Wild Goat logo on his hat and scarf. He shrugged and smiled. He held out his phone, showing me a screen from our own website: TSS.com. “Look,” he said, so I did. “See, Mr. Abrahams? It’s not over. Chur lost, Munich lost, Zillertal lost … so, we didn’t give up any ground. We’re still in it.”
And with six matches remaining, offering 18 points to be won, he was right.
“That’s the spirit, Mikel,” I said, patting him on the back, my breath swirling out in a cloud and disappearing in the mid–afternoon sky. And perhaps it is that spirit that best explains the enduring and unique appeal of the Austrian League.
Salzburg, Austria – By Zino Stiles-Johnson – Correspondent for TSS
One axiom that seems to play out each season of the Meadow Game is that, after the matches of Week 12, generally in all Six Leagues, the ultimate Winner of the League and the two teams that join in the battle for the Tyrol Cup or Promotion come from the top four–placed clubs. We’ll know in six weeks if that proves true in Season 154, but each of the Six Leagues in the AL – save the Farm League – have a top four with a three–point margin over the other trailing teams.
In the Tyrol League, that elite foursome is a fascinating group. Kitzbühel has held a lead since Week 3 and boasts a frightening offense … Bern is the defending champion whose form last March made their championship inevitable … Salzburg has the AL’s best player of the current year and a stingy defense … and Grenoble has sprinted past several Italian teams with a 4–game win streak to become a surprise contender after a poor start.
On January 31, Grenoble pushed past a Cortina Riflers team that had 13 points after 6 matches … and still, 6 losses in a row later, has 13 points. The Italians needed this win, but the Gantiers’ late kick gave them a 17—16 win as Henri Tissier continued a torrid stretch for the French club.
The Hahnenkamms likewise traveled to the Boot of Europe and conquered their foes, shutting down Brenta 10—2 in a contest that left the Burci fans disappointed by halftime and disinterested by midway through the 43. The Bargemen defenders played hard, as Italian defenses always do, but the result was the same that the Kamms earned last week. In Week 11, they played at Cortina and, despite posting their lowest total of the year, won 8—6. Their win at Brenta was their second–lowest offensive yield, but their 9th win as they moved to 28 points and maintained a 4–point lead in the Tyrol League.
Opponents may examine those matches to try to design a defensive plan to slow Kitzbühel’s attack, but Claus Binder, Florenz Mader and the other Kamms will be a formidable outfit to face come March; their place in the Playoffs seems assured, and – one must recall – this is the team that romped to the Tyrol Cup three seasons ago.
So, the Hahnenkamms may very well win the Cup come late March. But somehow, it was Bern’s journey across Switzerland to face Salzburg that stirred up the kind of anticipation that one associates with a Tyrol Cup Final. Half of that buzz will always be provided by the history behind this pairing: the Edelweiss, the fifth team to come into existence, has won the Cup a record 24 times, hangs its Original Team Charter on the old beech tree, and plays in the natural bowl of the Kletterpark. No team – not even the hardened forces of the Bern Armed Bears – can ignore the weight of that tradition.
But the Bears are the current champions and have lifted the Tyrol Cup 12 times – third most – and romped to a 17—2—0 record last season … and the Bears greedily claimed almost every Medal at Champions Night on March 31 last year. Most notably, Leonhard Brunner wrestled the Purtscheller and Klammer Medals away from Paul Lackner. The two men shook hands at mid–field, joked about something, shook snow off their young heads, and wished each other luck a moment before the Bell started the 40.
Late January … the steamy breath of 15,000 fans wisping away in the frigid air, hundreds of Flowers (and a number of Bears) banners and flags and pennants waving …. Maybe some other sporting venue and contest generated more excitement somewhere on Planet Earth last Saturday, but this writer doubts it.
All afternoon, Salzburg was marginally better – at every discipline and demand that a top–level Wiesespiel match makes on its players. Elias Hoffer, who ordinarily lines up as a Gate, played the Schleissman this week (Salzburg was down two men who were battling the flu) with the freedom to play where he was needed, was outstanding playing a left Lock position and was, in effect, a fifth defender, and he and Hugo Thurner dedicated themselves to tracking Mule Brunner, who was effective with two 3–point skots, but he wasn’t Mule Brunner effective, as the Edelweiss won 21—12 and drew even with the Bears at 8—4—0.
Lackner showed a maturity that has historians and writers comparing him to some of the greats of the past; he scored, yes (a 4, a 3 and one angled kick for 8 total), and the threat he presents freezes backlines in place and keeps opponents’ offenses short a man or two as those defenders cheat into the back third whenever the ball finds The Field Mouse. But more than anything else, Lackner wanted to win, so the Center and Captain diligently plugged holes in the middle and back thirds, passed liberally, and had a collision with Otto Von Steiger that was cartoonish: both fell back, landed on their rears, and slid on an icy surface like animated characters.
In two matches, the Flowers have out-scored the Bears 48–26. If the playoffs dictate that Salzburg and Bern face each other again (and most AL fans want exactly that to happen), that composite score may mean nothing. But it may. The Flowers never showed this conviction last season; none of the other nine teams in the Tyrol thought they could outlast Brunner and the Bears; this year, Salzburg can, and, two times, has.
Chambéry, France – By Thill Brenner – Correspondent for TSS
I am not a man of languages. As I child, I, as did every other fidgety and distracted youngster, found countless other activities on which to spend my energy in place of slogging through the vocabulary and grammar lessons of Volksschulle English class. Oh, learn it I did, but it did not come easily or enjoyably. And so, when French was proposed as a subject of study by my torturers in Mittelschule, I was fully prepared to explain why I had no interest in, and even less intent on, learning the language of love.
But on this day, a gorgeous Saturday, I realized I suffered for my headstrong ways and youthful lack of drive and discipline. You see, our beloved Meadow Game had brought me to Chambéry, France, and, in all the best and right ways, more French it could not be. Thus, my lack of competence with the local tongue proved to be the very handicap that my sage and saintly mother said it would be a few decades prior.
Gameday – there was something in the air, and I’m not talking about the intoxicating aroma of the crêpes and freshly-brewed coffee that waft up and down the streets surrounding the Place des Éléphants. Rest assured, locals and out-of-towners alike were lured and enticed by the sweet and the sublime to rise up early from their peaceful slumber and join the bustling foot traffic that increased as dawn gave way to the broadening sunlight. These feet, carrying salivating tongues and rumbling stomachs, dashed in and out of shoppes all around the Place Saint-Léger and Rue Croix d’Or area, ordering and enjoying treats my mouth would no doubt enjoy but could never pronounce.
But on this one of 11 Saturdays when their beloved Skins (short for “thick-skinned” – the literal translation of the elephant reference of pachyderm) take the Savoy Meadow – the only French Meadow that is still located in its original location – the air smelled of Wiesespiel. And for good reason. The home team, the Chambéry Elephants, had won 4 matches in a row and stood atop the Barrel League. Coming to call were the Printers from Basel, themselves not unfamiliar with a buffet of language possibilities, nestled along the borders of France, Germany, and their beloved Switzerland, fresh off a 2-skot victory over lowly Altötting and looking to move up into Promotion discussion.
As one might expect from our hosts, the 2 P.M. match got underway precisely 21 minutes past the hour. For the fans in red and gray, especially the ones sitting next to dads and granddads and holding their elephant horns in hopes of blasting them with every point scored, as if announcing another victory by Napoleon, the wait was hardly noticed. Just the sight of heroes and giants like Center and Captain Esmé Géroux, Schleissman Rémy Rome, and Gate Jean-Paul Clerc made time seem to stand still.
But once play was underway, it was as poetic and majestic as the words of game announcer Claude D’Termut that seemed to dance out of the field speakers (again, regrettably I understood far less than I wished at the moment). Géroux played to peak levels, scoring a 3, 4, and 3 before the Printers ever crossed the midfield. And each breach of the Tor line brought a symphony of elephant horn blasts that rose louder than the one before. As to the anemic production of the Printers’ offense, you can thank Clerc and his backline mate Gregoire Blanc. They were stout and strong, experts on the tackle and enforcers at the line. It was not until the 64th minute that Basel finally scratched out a skot, but with the home score showing 18 already, the bellows from the “trunks” were scarcely muted. The remaining possessions were a mere formality on the way to a final score of 21-6, a momentary delay before the celebratory procession that would end at the famed Elephant Fountain. There, Chambéry victories have been celebrated for more than 140 years by tossing miniature elephants into the waters of “Les Quatre Sans Cul.” These days, shops all along Boulevard du Théâtre, Rue Claude Martin and others keep a ready supply of small, plastic elephants for when the Skins are victorious. And this day, the fountain was filled to overflowing, as it often is, which was perfectly fine for the devoted attendees who were ultimately tasked with cleaning out the fountain and relocating the souvenirs to some unknown destination of Elephant memorabilia.
Five wins in a row. Eight more games are yet to be played, but this Chambéry club seems primed to join the ranks of those in the Farm League. They haven’t been there in a couple generations, long before the members of the current roster took to their first Meadow, but that doesn’t seem to matter to them or their thousands of supporters.
PLAYER of the WEEK:
Abrahams: Bingo Allerspach / Farmhand – Füssen. Welcome to Season 154, Benjamin “Bingo” Allerspach! Yes, of course, the effervescent Triskelions Farmhand has lingered around the top ten in scoring this season, but the 19–year old runner–up for the Thaler Medal last season has not been the dynamo that viewers of the AL expected. Either Füssen has struggled to score all year because he has struggled, or he has struggled to score because Füssen has been sluggish [an injury in Week Two to Allerspach’s mentor, Center Christoph Teufel, didn’t help], but set that aside for a week that explained why many prognostications foresaw the Triskelions challenging for the Tyrol Cup this year; in Füssen’s 28—21 win over Zurich (another team whose struggles have been a shock), Allerspach romped to 14 points – the third–highest total by any player in a Tyrol match this year – and had one knot of young home Zurich fans drop to the knees and kow–tow to the young German in awed obeisance. That gesture of surrender from the knowledgeable fan base of the Tirggel is good enough to earn my vote. After the match, Ozi Mannheim, the Zurich Schliessman who nipped the Thaler away from Allerspach last March, traded jerseys with his German rival and friend after the match and raised the Skels’ star hand into the air, like a referee lifting the arm of a winning boxer. Mannheim played a great match, too, but he knew, as did we all, who carried the day on that Meadow.
Stiles–Johnson: Paul Lackner / Center – Salzburg. There is no other choice for me to consider this week. Salzburg v Bern. The most accomplished side in AL history faced the defending champions; most of the Medal winners from last season took their places on the Kletterpark. A massive crowd had assembled. The Team Charter – drafted on October 3, 1872 – hung in its hallowed place, promising “fair play and good company and a jolly match.” I knew that the best player on this field on this day would be my Player of the Week. And – by a significant margin – Lackner was that man. His 8 points led all scorers, but, as I wrote above, his selfless tackling, passing, field generalship (as Captain and Center, he should excel in that discipline) and putting of his body in harm’s way spoke to his superior skill and achievement in Salzburg’s convincing 21—12 win.
Brenner: Sixtus Jundt / Gate – Aarau. When describing superb play, it is not uncommon to fall prey to hyperbole. Good becomes great, great becomes unbelievable, a noteworthy performance becomes the best of one’s career, and so on. Sixtus Jundt is a fine Gate on a fine Aarau Gables team. But I do not exaggerate when I say that Jundt made every tackle that, had he not been in position, otherwise would have allowed the Steyr Blacksmiths to convert a skot. As it was, they never crossed the Tor line and limped home with 3 measly kicks to show for their efforts in an 8-3 loss. Jundt, maybe famously, always adjusts his undershirt during the halftime such that he wears only one long black sleeve beneath his jersey, regardless of the weather, for the final 43, as if to say to the opponent, “I can stop you with one arm tied behind my back.” I won’t go so far as to say that’s true, but on this day, stop them he surely did.
ONE FINAL NOTE:
Abrahams: After the match in Interlaken – and a hot coffee – I boarded a late–afternoon train to work my way back to Salzburg, home and family. When I was a young man, such a train ride meant 3 or 4 hours to read, work on a story that needed to be filed, sleep, or chat with a friendly fellow Wiesespiel fan. This day, your much older Special Correspondent did read a few pages of an old favorite (The Hound of the Baskervilles,by the way), but I found myself doing what most people do on a train, airplane or most anywhere else in 2026. I looked at my computer for 90 minutes, sending e-mails and marveling at the ease with which I was able to gather and disseminate information.
In Week 18 of 1989, I was sent to Zermatt to report on the defending champion Black Eagles’ match against Grenoble; Matterhorn was guaranteed to be in the Final, so there was no suspense in my reporting that the Eagles had smashed the Gantiers 30—9 to set up what seemed a certain repeat title. But there was great suspense that day … 240 miles to the Northwest, in Munich, Germany. There, the mighty Lederhosen were assembling the pieces of a machine that, like a Mercedes or Porsche, would run powerfully and precisely over whatever stood in its way; they stormed to Tyrol Cups in 1990 and 1991 and collected two more in 1993 and 1995 as Sebastian König and his mates staked their claim as one of the great dynasties in AL history. But the tension that day in 1989 came from a different source: the Oberammergau Troupers were locked in a battle with the Salzburg Edelweiss for 3rd place – and a slot in the 2—3 game. The Troupers had endeared themselves to AL fans, a plucky outfit challenging the exalted teams which had won the 1st–, 2nd– and 5th–most Tyrol Cups.
Riding on that train, I was very eager to learn the outcome, hoping that, against all odds, Oberammergau had beaten the Hose and made the playoffs; and remember, I have been an Edelweiss fan my entire life. But in 1989, the Flowers had won 20 Tyrol Cups, and the Troupers had won 0.
But there was no way to learn who had won. Cell phones and laptop computers were not everywhere back then, and some issue was keeping even radio reports from reaching our train. Finally, that night, when the train stopped at Karlstein, I learned from a porter that the Troupers had played out of their minds and beaten Munich 23—13. They were in the 2-3 and would face, a week later, a very, very angry Munich Lederhosen team who had not found it charming in the least to lose by 10 at home to their little cousins an hour to the south of the City.
In a way, it was more gratifying to have to wait and scramble to discover that news. But, on Saturday, in 2026, in my warm train compartment, with a delightful dinner before me, I read details about Salzburg’s massive game against Bern, Henri Tissier’s 50–yard skot to lead Grenoble past the Riflers in Cortina, and could check and see that, on this weekend, Oberammergau recalled a bit of their glory by winning 12—0 against the 57s of Pontarlier.
And, by the way, just in case some of you dear readers are young or less well–versed in the history of the game, Oberammergau returned to Munich and defeated the Lederhosen again, 12—10. Maxi Becker, the Trouper Captain, who scored 3 points and sustained two broken fingers with 4 minutes remaining, famously said, “We’re more surprised than anyone to have won this game!”
Walk through Oberammergau sometime and yell out the first half of that expression … and wait a few seconds. A chorus of cheerful Bavarians will call out the rest of Maxi’s Maxim, as they call it.
Even a great Black Eagles team might have felt that Oberammergau was Fortune’s Darling that year, and on the following Saturday, the Troupers won the only Tyrol Cup in their long history with a carefully–played 11—7 victory over Matterhorn. I was there for that game and didn’t have to wait to find out who won. And on Saturday, by the time I stepped off the train in Salzburg, I knew who’d won every game and scored every point in 32 matches. I have incredibly fond memories of the old days … and I know I should be reading and engaging with my fellow travelers more … but I’m not giving up my computer.
Stiles–Johnson: Week Twelve. Teams have played two–thirds of Season 154. Several surprises and high–scoring contests have resulted in some volatile shifts among the Top 10 scorers, a list we’re expanding this week to a Top 15 as so few points separate some of those athletes. While the players appearing here are not precisely the same offensive players who crowded the stage at the Champions Night ceremony last March, the list is a round–up of, as the character in Casablanca says, the usual suspects. Even though Füssen has been poor on offense this season, a player such as Bingo Allerspach needs only a few matches to remind the AL why he can panic an entire defense; Gates and Locks can home in on him all they want, but when the Triskelions can put a few passes together or reverse field quickly, Allerspach can do the rest. Now, replace the player and team names above with “Henri Tissier” and “Grenoble,” or “Ozi Mannheim” and “Zurich,” and read the same sentence again. And now, on to the usual suspects ….
Brenner: Any longtime fan of Wiesespiel knows that it was 1903 when the O8 last occupied the Tyrol League at the same time. There have been numerous seasons when 6 have resided there together, and even a few with seven. Currently, a mere 3 compete at the highest level of the Austrian League. But as the upper 3 tables exhibit, progress is trending in the direction of 1903. Of course, 3 teams are in the Wheat League, so their journey is not short, swift, or even remotely guaranteed. But, as much as your devoted reporters love and respect each of the Wiesespiel clubs, fans, and traditions, a season (or succession of seasons) where all 8 are battling for the Tyrol Cup as they did shortly after Klagenfurt and Villach first took to the Meadow would turn the Wiesespiel world on its ear. Let’s hope it’s sooner rather than later (or not even in our lifetimes). Let’s hope for a Champions Night full of history, memories, and modern-day excellence that harkens back to the days of Max Steinwender and Teddy Kogler. Let’s hope that the Original Eight once again are the Great Eight, and they inspire every other team to strive to be their equal on the Meadow.