On the death of sports journalist Claus Vetter: “We’ll meet around the corner from you!”

"Thanks for the record, finally some vinyl again. I'll listen to it in the next few days, and then we can meet up around the corner from you!" Claus Vetter's last message didn't sound like a farewell. Quite the opposite, it resonated with pretty much everything that kept him going: Curiosity. Music. Being around people. A man from the analogue age, without a doubt.

I don't know how I come to judge him like that. After all, we've only met in person twice in our lives. The last time was on his 60th birthday at the "Schleusenkrug" in Berlin, when his colleagues gave him an ice hockey stick autographed by all the "Eisbären" (Polar Bears), which moved Claus so much he almost cried. For two decades, we only knew each other by phone. Since the 2006 World Cup, 11FREUNDE and the "Tagesspiegel" have cooperated at every major tournament. Claus and his colleagues coordinated the joint supplement produced by our editorial teams on the Berliner Zeitung website. I submitted many articles and therefore had him on the phone a lot. At first, I often encountered him as the latently stressed editor, constantly racing towards the deadline. But after a while, I realized that this slightly over-the-top attitude was part of his habit – and by no means to be interpreted negatively.

In a quiet moment, we realized that we were both from Oldenburg. When football wasn't on the agenda, we soon found ourselves talking exclusively about music. He still knew many clubs from his old hometown: the "Alhambra" in Oldenburg, the "Circus Musicus" and the "Pil-Huhn" in Lohne, the "Neue Heimat" in Thülsfeld, and the "Pogo" in Cloppenburg. Before his time as a sports reporter for the "Tagesspiegel," which began with his first article in 1996 and for which he headed the department from 2020 onwards, he had toured with bands. After moving to Berlin in 1986, he co-founded the distinguished fanzine "Niagara."

He was like so many others. After an extended youth in the hedonistic temple of the fall of the Wall, Berlin, real life had quietly begun. The Olympic Games, soccer tournaments, and his beloved ice hockey weren't the worst of all ways to build a middle-class life while still being on the move. And since we had supposedly known each other for a long time, after the business stuff we quickly got down to the really important things: old musical stories, visits to northern Germany, and the ailments of our hunchbacked relatives. Beneath the flat shell of northern German robustness lay a warm-hearted character who met the growing challenges of the media business with a finely balanced mix of ambition, efficiency, and composure. Clearly, there was someone on the phone who came from the same soil.

After the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, which I covered as a reporter on site and where Claus was my contact in the editorial department for the supplement "11FREUNDE täglich," we agreed that after 16 years, it was time to meet in person. Time and again, one of us had to postpone the meeting because of other commitments. But Claus persisted. Eventually, we met in Friedrichshain at a smoking bar with a large selection of draft beers (WhatsApp: "Sounds good! Unfortunately, I smoke occasionally, too. So it doesn't bother me!"). And it turned into one of those Berlin evenings that we both now only remember from a distant past, when the thought of the next day's duties dictated our actions, but rather the conviction that this conversation deserved an extension—and thus another drink.

When the landlord escorted us out late at night, Claus spontaneously invited me to his birthday party. "We should do that more often. It's a great pub, by the way."

I never would have guessed that our meeting after so many years would be both the first and the second to last. At his 60th birthday party, we briefly discussed, in the hustle and bustle at the bar, that some of those present wouldn't be there for the next milestone birthday. Unfortunately, biology is very reliable in that regard. His parents had died not so long ago. Of course, we weren't thinking of either of us when we were talking about such gallows humor.

Now, after a short, serious illness, Claus Vetter has passed away at the age of just 60. Our thoughts and deepest sympathy go out to his family, friends, and colleagues at the Tagesspiegel newspaper in these painful hours. We should all meet around the corner more often!