I Am the Keeper (Der Goalie bin ig)

It all started long before that,

but now I might as well say

it all began the night I got out of the nick.

I'd already blown the money they gave me.

And the north wind was colder than hell.

Schummertal.

November.

And my heart was as heavy as an old wet floorcloth.

This is where I grew up.

It was all I knew. That's why it felt good.

I loved playing footie all afternoon with my mates.

Ueli and I were forwards, perfectly in sync.

A dream team.

I'LL BE THE GOALIE

From the novel Much of a Talker by Pedro Lenz.

I did time for drug stuff.

I screwed up. As a go-between.

I got fucked over and nicked.

I'd never messed with the dealers in Schummertal.

Where everybody knows you and begrudges you everything

except maybe the flu or a rash.

I always helped myself to what I needed.

Except for that one time.

It was about a year ago.

- Don't you have anything better to do? - I gotta take it in for inspection.

Forget it. That rust bucket will never pass the inspection.

Could you turn off the engine?

It stinks!

Stuck-up git!

They fired me. On the spot.

- On the spot? - I was smoking heroin on the loo.

The boss caught on and lost it.

It's not funny.

Sorry.

I'll give you a hand.

All that's missing now is a lawn mower, huh?

What do you want a lawn mower for?

Just look around! It's Saturday afternoon.

First you wash the car, then you mow the lawn,

and later you'll barbecue a pork chop.

Like life in some corny old movie.

This fucking contraption just died on me!

Damn it!

Say,

could you do me a favour?

Pick up a package in Pontarlier?

Why don't you get it yourself?

My old man's birthday. Big party. Can't miss it.

- Are you two still using the hoover? - No.

Okay.

Routine care,

and your car will last forever!

Is there anything fishy about it?

Five thousand. Cash.

What? Five grand?

Five grand.

That's a lot.

Especially when you've just lost your job.

So much that you'd better not ask too many questions.

So I drove to France. Daft bastard that I am.

Hi.

- I'm Goalie. - I don't speak German.

I was introducing myself: Goalie.

- Everything okay? - Everything okay.

Here.

- Christ, what is this? - Just what I was going to ask you.

Get out!

Bloody hell!

How often have you worked as a mule?

This was my first and last time.

- How do you know that Frenchman? - I don't even know if he's French.

I only know he spoke French.

But most people speak French nowadays.

If somebody speaks English, it doesn't mean they're English.

You didn't answer my question. How do you know the Frenchman?

I don't know him.

I was doing a favour for somebody who doesn't know the Frenchman either.

And who is that "somebody"

who let you walk into an offside trap?

Why would he want to fuck me over?

Maybe he was looking for a patsy to do time for him.

That's rubbish. It doesn't make any sense.

Right. Once more, from the top:

Who gave you the job?

If you have anything to say, say it!

It'll help you in court.

If I blab now you'll just go after the little fish.

What good is that?

Prison will stick to you for the rest of your life.

Is that what you want?

You're really beyond help.

That's how it was

with my little outing to France.

One day's driving and a year in the nick.

On balance, a pretty lousy result, if I'm honest.

There's no way to talk that up now.

If I'd blabbed I'd have gotten a suspended sentence.

But I kept mum. You can blame me for all kinds of things,

but ratting someone out in court?

No way.

Especially not my oldest mate.

That's when you need to keep your trap shut. No question.

Hey there.

- Look who it is: Goalie. Back again? - As you see.

What can I get you?

- Please get me a coffee with schnapps. - Got any cash?

Just bring it over, we'll take it from there.

- I didn't put it through. - Thanks, love.

If Pesche finds out all hell will break loose.

Regi, could you slip me a fifty until Monday?

A cash-flow problem with my imagined earnings, you know?

Hard to believe you were inside nearly a year.

You're still full of the same old shit.

It's up to you: Either you give me the fifty or I'll ask someone else.

You're a darling. Thanks.

I'd love to take you home, for keeps.

I'd make you happy, Regi. I swear.

Quitting time, Goalie. Tomorrow's another day.

We've known each other for ages and...

Sleep tight!

You, too.

- Hi, Budi! - Honey.

Can you turn it down a bit? I'm totally wasted.

Come off it and listen to the song!

- Goalie's out. - Who?

Goalie.

So what?

I gave him a free coffee with schnapps.

- How come? - He's broke.

Why does he go to a pub if he's broke?

- Maybe he needs some company. - You aren't the Salvation Army.

He isn't such a bad sort.

He's a die-hard junkie who drinks like a fish,

always borrowing money and out of work.

Still strikes me as a good bloke.

That makes one of you.

- Goalie, are you home? - Yeah, come on in.

And shut the door, you tit. You're letting the cold in!

Hey, Ueli!

- Want a beer, or shall I make coffee? - A beer wouldn't be bad.

I didn't think you'd ever show your face again.

Hey, what's wrong with you? Are you ill?

- A bit of a cold, that's all. - You're kidding, right?

First you're nowhere to be found,

and then you turn up like this.

- You got jaundice? - I got nothing.

Just look at yourself!

Ueli, you got jaundice.

I got nothing. Just a cold, like I said.

Here Sorry, it took a bit longer.

- Count it! - It's all right. I'll count it later.

Five grand, that's a lot of money.

A year in the nick is no joke, either.

Why did you never come to see me inside?

Do we have to talk about that now?

It was just a question.

The nick's too much of a downer for me.

For you?

Don't you have any junk? Half a sachet, maybe?

I got nothing.

This place is as clean as a nursery.

I'm starting over.

Gonna find a job. Straight up.

Get up early, a beer or two in the evening,

be in bed at a decent hour

and no more stress or hassle.

Well done. Bravo, Goalie!

Are you kidding?

Come on, give me something.

Anything!

Here.

Hey, man, you leaving? Tell me what's been going on in the meantime.

Some other time. Gotta go.

Wow, Ueli!

You got two Netzers. Hold on!

I can trade you Neeskens.

I already got him.

- But I've got Tomaszewski. - I've got him, too.

You've got almost every card.

All right, you can have him.

Honest? In exchange for who?

Just like that.

Five, seven, eight,

nine,

five thousand.

- Hello, Mr Siegrist. - Hello, Mr Amstutz.

We'll make it easy. This is the payment slip.

Have the money in my account by the end of the month,

or you can call a moving van.

Four thousand five hundred? Jesus Christ on a bike!

If I'd wanted to be mean, I'd have charged interest.

- As I said - I'll pay in cash. Gimme a second.

Four, five.

Four thousand five hundred. Count it.

- I'll put the receipt in your mailbox. - Yeah, fine.

- Hey there! - Hi, Goalie.

Paule.

Hi, Pesche. Café au lait, hold the milk, and an almond croissant.

Say, isn't Regula in today?

- Only in the afternoon. Why? - Can't I ask?