A Tree Full of Slides and the Nation Losing Its Mind

The whole country had lost its mind in the best possible way. Germany’s run through that World Cup felt genuinely unhinged—not just winning, but winning with a particular rhythm that made everyone around you suddenly generous and loud. Fans honking through empty streets at 1am. Children crying. Grown men weeping into their beer. The kind of collective euphoria that only sport and disaster can produce, and this was the good kind.

We ended up at a party inside ELSE, under a tree hung entirely with Adiletten—the slide sandal that became, inexplicably and perfectly, the fashion object of that summer. There were fat burgers and cold cider and a room full of people watching Germany dismantle the opposition like it cost them nothing. A friend named Leni, fully kitted out in a replica jersey, showed guests the correct way to handle a football. Sun and rain took turns with the evening in that way Berlin evenings do in July.

It ended with a win, beats still ringing, something greasy and good still on the tongue. Sometimes that’s exactly enough.