SPIEGEL ONLINE - June 13, 2006
CZECHS ON AMERICAN BUD
"It's Missing the Taste of Beer"
By Andreas Tzortzis in Gelsenkirchen
Czech Republic may have defeated the USA on the field on Monday. But the real action was outside the stadium. In a taste test, Czech Budweiser thouroughly whipped American Bud.
To anyone watching the Czech Republic national team dismantle the United States in the coal mining town of Gelsenkirchen on Monday night, the balance of power in the soccer world was clear. America's super-power status reaches its limits as soon as the US boys step onto the football pitch. But off the field and behind the polished metal counters of the concession stands, another contest was being waged -- one in which the US seemed to have the upper hand.
Let's call it the Bud Bowl.
The St. Louis brew known to Americans as Budweiser and Europeans as Anheuser-Busch passed across the lips of many a Czech fan for the first time Monday night. The American brewery secured the exclusive rights to tout their tipple at the World Cup way back in 1998, and during the last tournament in Japan and South Korea, hardly anyone complained.
In Germany, though, the outrage started months before the soccer balls started rolling. How could Germany, the home of some of the best beer in the world, allow an American brew to take over Germany's World Cup party? A deal was eventually struck allowing the German brand Bitburger access to the stadiums.
But that wasn't the only beer related brouhaha. After all, the only Budweiser in Europe is brewed in the Czech town of Ceske Budejovice (formerly known as Budweis) -- and has been since the 13th century according to the brewery's Web site. The Czechs first began selling beer under the name "Budweiser" in 1895, almosts 20 years after Anheuser introduced its tipple of that name. But in Europe, beers are often traditionally named after the town in which they were brewed. With hundreds more years of brewing tradition, Ceske Budejovice has long felt it had the upper hand. And legal battles over which beer can be called Budweiser on the old continent have always ended in the Czech's favor. But on Monday night, visitors to the FIFA World Cup stadium were required to drink the American brew.
But that's just the political background. The most important question, of course, is: Which beer tastes better?
Our story begins in the narrow streets streaming from the Gelsenkirchen main train station. Packed with well-sauced fans in the red, white and blue, there was nary space to move as I hustled around trying to procure a six pack of Czech Bud. After unsuccessful tries up and down the "downtown" of this fading former mining city, I hit upon a dwindling stash in a side-street supermarket.
The first, lucky American fans outside of the supermarket -- the stars and stripes one had draped around his shoulders was a dead give away -- were the lucky recipients of their first ever Budweiser. The real kind, as Europeans insist.
"More hops," said Bill Thomas of Dallas, Texas, dark shades not quite concealing the sparks of joy in his eyes. "Cleaner, less carbonation ... tastier."
The first verdict was in. But would the lost Americans down the road share it?
A lifelong drinker of the American version of Bud, US fan West Interian's palate is hardly what one might call discerning. But on a hot afternoon, in a town who's name every one seemed to have trouble pronouncing, Interian became a convert.
"I've drunk Bud my whole life, and this tastes better," he said after a gulp or two. Then he paused. "Hell, this is warm, and it tastes better. Try this, Rex."
Rex Corbett grabbed the modest green bottle: "Hmmmm, that is good," Corbett agreed. The bottle never made it back to Interian.
And the Czechs? I had given up hope of locating a six-pack of Anheuser-Busch in town because, well, nobody touches the stuff here. The stadium was, of course, the last and most logical choice.
Do you speak English? The two jersey-clad, face-painted Czechs -- who will later reveal themselves as Tomas Novak and Martin Jirounek -- nodded yes.
"This may sound strange," I said, "but, I want to buy you a beer. And then I want to watch you drink it."
An odd come-on, perhaps, but it was a difficult one for Novak and Jirounek to turn down. The two agreed, and waited until I worked my way to the front of the line. Behind the counter, acne-splashed teens poured Anheuser-Busch Bud -- as it's called here so as not to trample on Czech Bud's brand -- out of the familiar brown plastic bottles and into cups. The server was wearing gloves -- like I said, they don't touch the stuff here.
A first sip:
"It's cold," Novak ventured, helpfully. "But it is missing, um. I don't know how to say. It is missing ... um, yes. I miss the, uh, typical taste of beer.
You know?"
He took another swallow. "Yes! Yes! I miss the typical taste of beer!"
Jirounek, the silent, surly man of the two, nods his agreement. A clear verdict.
Not all Czechs were quite as dismissive. "It's quite good," Vladimir Herink, of Prague, will tell me later during half-time. But by then, of course, the blazing hot sunshine had done its damage. "It's good for this occasion," he said adding a decisive qualifier to his first statement. "We're quite thirsty, you see."
And maybe he was just being polite. After all, his team held a 2-0 lead at the break and the USA team was clearly outclassed. So too was American Bud. Adding insult to injury, the USA got killed in the Bud Bowl as well.
(uninformed comment???)