The numbers are unbelievable. 1069 games, 394 goals and 858 points. In 20 years of professional ice hockey for only two clubs. Dusseldorf and Nuremberg. Patrick Reimer has left his mark on German and international ice rinks for two decades without ever winning a title. And now gets a round of applause for it. Because exactly that, in addition to the tremendous talent and will, was and is one of his greatest character traits: sincerity.
There stood the man. And it was hard to tell if he was laughing or not, if he was at least smiling. His mighty beard blocked the view. But there was no other way. Every three years, the men from Mindelheim in the Unterallgäu let their beards grow endlessly. For generations. And now three years have passed. In the summer, thousands upon thousands would come to the Frundsberg Festival, one of the largest historical city festivals in Germany. And they would then also experience Patrick Reimer from Mindelheim, the extraordinary ice hockey player. But they would hardly recognize him, because disguised as a lansquenet he was only one of 2000 people in costume.
Don’t get off
When Patrick Reimer was talking about Mindelheim and his beards, about knights and peasant wars, it was the world championship. Nuremberg had not become German ice hockey champion again shortly before, and the German national team traveled to the title fights in Prague with the firm intention of somehow avoiding relegation from the A group. The national coach’s name was Pat Cortina and he promised his team to throw a round in the evening if they held a draw against Canada for at least a third.
The Germans lost 10-0, and nothing was reminiscent of the departure under national coach Uwe Krupp, which had begun just five years earlier, a few hundred kilometers south-east in Bratislava. Late afternoon in late April. Against Russia. When Patrick Reimer got the disc in front of his own goal two minutes and 12 seconds before the end and tried something that hardly any German had ever managed.
The first goal of life
Reimer charged all over the ice alone. Through two Russians as if they were nothing more than holograms. Will-o’-the-wisp dummies. Reimer pulled away diagonally, crossed the Russian goal area, deceived, put the puck on his backhand and elegantly lifted it into the net. Back then, none other than veteran goalkeeper Yevgeni Nabokov stood between the posts.
That had never happened before
Boundaries were shifted that day. Reimer’s backhand worked nothing less than a hockey miracle. Germany won 2-0. Thomas Greilinger had scored the first goal, and in the stands of Zimný štadión Ondreja Nepelu strangers lay in each other’s arms, crying, because it had never happened before: a German World Cup victory against the Russian ice hockey giants. It was as if Boris Becker had won his first Wimbledon again or Schumi had won his first world title.
The next crash
But because German ice hockey has often managed to tear down what has just been created over the past 20 years, the magic lasted just one year. In the large globes from Stockholm, Jakob “Köbi” Kölliker, a friendly Swiss national coach, was behind the German gang and never had enough words to explain a sporting downturn that had a certain unique selling point even for German ice hockey.
Patrick Reimer scored his third goal of the tournament in the game against Norway. The only problem was: Norway was already leading 9:0 at this point and won 12:4 in the end. In the sparsely occupied grandstands globes strangers lay in each other’s arms and wept, because nothing like this had ever happened before. On this rainy and sensitive, cool day in mid-May 2012, nobody would have dreamed of a new ice hockey fairy tale.
South Korea – a dream trip
There was little more than a minute of extra time played. And in small Kwandong Hockey Center Gangneung again had that weird vibe that was more reminiscent of a water park than an Olympic ice hockey tournament. But that’s how it was in 2018, when South Korea was suddenly confronted with sports that didn’t belong to this country. Anyway, Germany played the quarterfinals against Sweden. And it was 2:2, which was already a great success, because the Swedes were the current world champions.
But that wasn’t enough for the Germans. So Patrick Reimer got the shot and moved to the goal, where veteran Swedish goalkeeper Victor Fasth saved the first shot but couldn’t save the follow-up shot. And to this day nobody really knows why Patrick Reimer’s first Olympic goal had to be checked for minutes. Maybe because it was not intended that a German team would be among the last four at the Olympics.
The final against Russia
Soon the Germans were among the last two. The final against Russia. These damned 55.5 seconds, which were missing for the gold medal, because in this supposedly last Olympic minute the German nerves drew a line. The goal against their own superior number, the extension that didn’t want to end. And then, after nine minutes and eleven seconds, the Russian bat slipped under Patrick Reimer’s stick, catapulted it up and hit the Russian in the face. The time penalty. Against rhymer. The only one in this overtime, the last in this tournament. Because Kirill Kaprizov didn’t like German fairy tales.
The legend departs
In the summer, the Frundsberg Festival is celebrated again in Mindelheim. Patrick Reimer is of course there as a Landsknecht. The spectacle had to be canceled twice because of Corona. Maybe that’s why he started growing his beard endlessly early on, out of impatient anticipation. After his last game, he said on the ice in the Nuremberg Arena: “I have the feeling that I must have done some things right.” You could see his eyes smiling. And in the tiers, strangers hugged each other and cried.