St. Leopold’s Day Classic / Bern’s Title Defense Begins / Lackner Runs Wild
Vienna, Austria – By Zino Stiles-Johnson – Correspondent for TSS
When he was asked a mere ten days ago what factor could lift Vienna to the Tyrol Cup in 2026 after they lost the Final this past March, Gate Eurig Frode said, distinctly and with great conviction: “Johann Trimme.” Frode’s conviction led my mentor, Harold Abrahams, to predict that Trimme would claim the Thaler Medal this season as the Best Young Player.
Frode’s declaration rang in my ears as I joined 14,000 fans for the St. Leopold’s Day Classic as Vienna welcomed the Brenta Burci to play the first match of the 154th Season of Wiesespiel. In a powerful Composers line-up featuring standout athletes such as Nicolas Irmiger and Willi Muhr, Trimme scored two skots to spearhead a dominant 26—12 win over the Bargemen.
Every St. Leopold’s Day bubbles with joy as Austrians celebrate their heritage, but the capital can claim, perhaps, to have a more festive air than other happy corners of the nation since the Composers played their first match ever when they hosted Klagenfurt on this holiday on November 15, 1872. Viennese tend to downplay the outcome (the 26—3 thumping they received from the Lindwyrms) and concentrate on the beginning of one of the most beloved traditions in world sport.
Irmiger, a lovely black–and–purple eye forming from the impact of an elbow he took (from his own teammate, Didi Leiner, in a scramble for a fumbled ball), reflected on the day and the match. “The day was just perfect. A cool day, a massive audience of fans, a very strong opening effort from the lads … and we defended our Meadow and gave old Leopold something to be proud of.” When reminded of the imminent arrival of the sheaf of wheat from the townspeople of Klagenfurt, Irmiger laughed and nodded. “Yeah … we tend to be less proud of that.” On the balance, though, this was a grand day in Vienna and a start to another lively season of the Meadow Game.
Füssen, Austria – By Harold Abrahams – Special Correspondent for TSS
Six days ago, my young colleague, Zino Stiles–Johnson, wrote that those who follow the
Tyrol League would see “a version of Paul Lackner this year that will gobsmack opponents.” But surely a hard-boiled old reporter such as yours truly – beginning my 43rd year writing for TSS about Wiesespiel – couldn’t be surprised by anything he witnesses on a Meadow on a Saturday in the Austrian League. That’s what I told myself as I gleefully walked through lovely Füssen, Germany, a hamlet buzzing with excitement about their Triskelions. Those enthusiastic supporters, hoping to add a Tyrol Cup to the one they claimed in 1935 (and of which they are deeply proud), mingled with a significant number of Salzburgers as we made our way to the home team’s Meadow. To their credit, the fans of the Edelweiss who drove or trained three hours across Southeast Germany to watch their heroes play did not remind the people of Füssen that back in Salzburg, 24 Tyrol Cups stand in alignment in their Hall of Champions.
All of that matters, but that is in the past. Today was November 15, 2025, and only this mattered as the teams faced off: what did the first 83 of the year have in store for each team?
Two hours later, we knew.
For Füssen, this day was a lesson and a chance to regroup, as they were utterly stifled and overrun by a rampant Edelweiss team in a comprehensive 27—4 win for the Austrians.
And what was in store for admirers of great play and outstanding players?
Well, simply this: I was wrong, and young Ms. Stiles–Johnson is vindicated: I was gobsmacked at the display of speed, power, field generalship and mastery presented by Paul Lackner. The Field Mouse scored four skots – four skots – and added two kicks to tally 18 points in a season debut that makes one wonder what records he might challenge and what opponents will have to commit in defense to slow down the Field Mouse.
Stout defenders fell off him, swift farmhands fell behind him, fetching German girls fell over themselves to get a better look at him. He was dynamic, powerful and irrepressible. And humble, afterward, when told that only Johan Klammer – the Austrian Angel himself – had scored more than Lackner’s 18 points in a season opener since 1960. He laughed and said, “Let’s not go mentioning my name in the same sentence as Herr Klammer,” though teammates Theo Mossman and Marco Bauer were ready to carry him off the field in triumph.
One more note on this young man and the spirit that undergirds the Meadow Game and has since this very Salzburg team drafted its Charter for “fair play and good company and a jolly match.” Lest one think cynically that Lackner’s deflection of praise was disingenuous, consider this: before he left the Meadow, he found the Triskelion forward Bingo Allerspach, runner-up for the Thaler Medal seven months ago, dropped his arm around the 19-year old’s shoulders, and talked earnestly to his opponent for ten minutes. This reporter will never ask what passed between these two competitors, but given the rough afternoon Allerspach had, and given the boyish love of the game Paul Lackner displays, it was commiseration and advice. As they parted and Lackner trotted toward the visitor’s dressing room, Allerspach’s face registered not hero worship – not quite – but admiration for a man who had beaten his team into the German soil all afternoon. Kitzbühel, Vienna and the champions from Bern all romped, so nothing was decided in Week One. But the managers and strategists in those towns and others have been put on alert: Salzburg, lead by their talisman, is coming.
Bern, Switzerland – By Thill Brenner – Correspondent for TSS
How could one feel anything but blessed to walk out under a Swiss sun to the sound of the Alpenhorns filling the Meadow with their oh-so-Alpine sound as 13,000 Armed Bears fans, watching the Zurich Tirggel stretch and toss the ball around, shared knowing looks with each other. A 40-year old man next to me asked his son, 12, “What do you think, Paulie? Will the Bears win today?” The son, wearing a Mule Brunner shirt, a black-and-red hat with the Bear climbing diagonally up it, and holding a mini-Alpenhorn souvenir, dropped his jaw in mock disbelief: “Win?! Dad, the Bears will crush these poor boys.”
One second, I thought. The Tirggel were re-born last season, remaking themselves with a change of mascot, kit and attitude. Their core of talent – Thaler Medal-holder Ozi Mannheim, mercurial Armand Flamur, Captain Marc Oberholler – makes them a threat to every foe.
And then the Bears took the field. The prowess and physical presence that propelled them to a 17—2—0 Tyrol Cup-winning campaign last season just sits on their shoulders in a different way – it commands attention and adds an obstacle that their opponent must overcome. Is Otto Von Steiger actually a giant …? Probably not, but it feels that way. Did the ground really rumble when Bernhard Brunner barrels across it? I think it might have.
On the evidence of this match, a 15—0 decision that felt as if a 30-point margin divided the teams, young Paulie and the other Bern faithful are going to greatly enjoy this season, as they did last season. And Bern’s bustling youth program is yielding talented new players for the senior team: Leol Saxer, for example, is growing into a valuable player as Felix Moser mentors his young fellow Gate.
Brunner’s stunning skot from midfield, during which he dragged various Cookies for yards at a time before they tumbled off him, punctuated an afternoon that convinced me that the Bears will win the Cup again next March. A marvelous day was not quite complete, but, as I walked up from the Meadow and turned back toward the town center, I found myself near the Charmed Bears as Esme Rotemuller – a lovely girl who has, in her spirited cheering for the Bears, developed a devoted following of her own – signed autographs and took photographs with many (almost all of whom were men, one noticed) who appealed for that privilege. An atmosphere exists right now in Bern – times are good, people are convivial, wins are plentiful.
PLAYER of the WEEK:
Abrahams: Isak Ammeter / Forward – Sankt Moritz. We all know Paul Lackner was the Player of the Week. But other than him, I’ll name Ammeter, a Lock for Sankt Moritz, whose heroics secured a stirring 27—26 victory in Aggsbach in what was the Match of the Week. But, ironically, had this Wheat League match ended after 82 minutes and Ammeter hadn’t both deflected a ball out of bounds to earn possession for the Pioneers and then run in a skot to provide that final score, I would have selected the White Canons’ Christian Riedl, one of the enterprising youngsters who have the supporters of this Original Eight team hoping for a return to prominence. Riedl’s easy shifting from Wing to Lock gave the visitors from Switzerland trouble all match, but the Ammeter lightning bolt earns my vote this week.
Stiles–Johnson: I won’t complicate this: Paul Lackner scored 18 points and ghosted all over the meadow at will, at speed, with energy and … joy. His performance must have struck a note that – to those back in Salzburg – must sound like a melodious tune from the Von Trapps but – to elsewhere must have an ominous tone to it.
Brenner: My father’s den was a shrine to the greatest defenseman of all time – Matterhorn’s unmatched Gate Alex Aescher, the rock that waves of attacks broke on during the Black Eagles’ four straight Tyrol Cup title years in the early 1970s. My father met Aescher in a pub in Zermatt … and cried on the giant’s lapel. So, I usually seek out a Gate or Lock to salute in this space. My favorite player in the AL right now is Bern’s imperturbable Felix Moser, the man who marshals the current best defense on the planet (in any sport). Zurich is a lively, talented team, and Moser saw everything they tried and planned … and stifled it in the Armed Bears’ 15—0 win. What Brunner does on one end of the Meadow for the Champions, Moser does on the other end.
ONE FINAL NOTE:
Abrahams: Understand, Klagenfurt is my team. I have lived and died with them for 50 years: I have a Lindwyrm tattoo on my shoulder. So there is no flippancy intended when I remind readers that when the Wyrms lose, the townspeople in Klagenfurt drape a black sackcloth over the shoulders of Duke Bernhard in their town square … and that their fight song is “The Ford of Lament.” There was lamentation indeed in Klagenfurt when their heroes, determined to climb from the Wheat to the Alpine League this season, were flattened 27—9 in Innsbruck. Allie Wurter and company have work to do, and quickly.
Stiles–Johnson: Six of the Original Eight teams won on Saturday, with Klagenfurt and Aggsbach falling short. I have read Bruno Böhm’s 1906 classic book The First Eight 16 times. I have memorized entire chapters from the book September 2, 1872, written by my colleague and mentor Harold Abrahams. In Chapter 2, Abrahams mounts the definitive argument that Klagenfurt formed on that fateful day and that the Villach Tirolerhuts organized a team on the following day. Harold’s book is cheerfully hated in Villach. For example, in the Shepherd and Crook Pub, famously, a copy of Harold’s book is secured to the wall, and patrons are encouraged to take turns throwing darts at the despised tome. Read Chapter 9 (entitled 8-6 / 9-8) and try not to cry with laughter as the author recounts the old debate about the victor of the first match. Wyrms faithful and Huts supporters have come to blows – in churches on three different occasions, one of which was a wedding! – over this disputed outcome … which occurred 153 years ago! My point is this: I dream of a season when all of the Original Eight teams are reunited in the top league. The last time that famed Octet were all gathered in the Tyrol was 1903, when, sorry, Villach, Klagenfurt won the Parzer Pair. Oh, to see it again.
Brenner: In the Wheat, Harvest and Barrel Leagues, home teams were 14—1—1. This statistic won’t be so startling all season, but it’s one thing to practice and scrimmage on one’s own meadow, then go home and eat in one’s own home and sleep in one’s own bed. It is another to face an equally resolute opponent and their 10,000 or 12,000 rollicking fans. Home field matters.