From the bratwurst in St. Gallen to the clairvoyants in the Swiss national team: These European Championship moments will remain

Anyone who spends four weeks traveling through the universe known as the European Football Championship experiences a lot. Of course, it's the matches that capture the most attention. But sometimes experiences beyond the sporting action linger much longer.

Bratwurst is better than chorizo

Recently, a trend has crept into major football tournaments for fans to pit the culinary merits of the participating countries against each other on cardboard signs. The signs read cryptic phrases like "Pizza better than fish and chips" (Italy vs. England 1:2) or "Cervelat better than chorizo" (Switzerland vs. Spain 0:2). Note: The result of the culinary duel is usually different from the one on the pitch.

In St. Gallen , before the Swiss women's quarterfinal, there was naturally no cervelat sausage, but rather bratwurst, "Bratwurst better than Chorizo" in other words – a sign that would have been enough to qualify Switzerland for the semifinals. The thing is: Even without Switzerland's semifinal appearance, the neighbor, a fervent supporter of the English women's team, has infected everyone around her with her European Championship euphoria. So she organizes public viewings, and the television is dragged up to the roof terrace, back into the living room, and onto the balcony. Depending on the weather forecast.

The neighborly euphoria naturally also leads to culinary experiments. What do the English eat on Sunday, the evening of the final? Sunday roast, of course, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes, and gravy. It may not be the right season, but it certainly fits the weather. It tastes delicious. And the English will also become European champions. So: "Sunday roast better than chorizo." (Christof Krapf)

Arrived in the next generation

"She's stupid," said the godson. It was 2019, the USA was shining at the Women's World Cup in France. Their star, Megan Rapinoe, demonstrated utter self-confidence with her celebration, arms outstretched. The boy was seven years old, played on his neighborhood team, and it was safe to assume that the judgment about the purple-haired US soccer player had been made among the boys at school.

This summer, other people are being stupid: The Norwegians, who wasted so much time in their first group match against Switzerland. Unfair! Iceland's Sveindis Jonsdottir, who carefully dried the ball with a white cloth during each of her long-range throw-ins in the second match. Annoying!

Iman Beney, on the other hand, was good—no, "So good!" Or Géraldine Reuteler. She just should have played a bit further forward in the second game. Suddenly, technical discussions with his godson were possible, which had previously been limited to the men's national team's games or Champions League matches. All of his classmates watched the games, he said.

When teenage boys turn to women's football, it has taken a step forward that goes further than all the records broken at the European Championships. Then it has reached the next generation—and, in the best case scenario, becomes the norm there.

Is it time for a Beney shirt as a birthday present? (Christine Steffen)

Completely detached in Geneva

The observer is plagued by strong doubts. The Swiss are groaning and trailing 1-0 in their final group match against Finland, but need at least a draw to advance to the quarter-finals. High up in the media stands at the Stade de Genève, the text version of the tournament's elimination is being prepared. The 90th minute is over, and down on the pitch, tactical anarchy, fueled by desperation, is spreading. That seems to be it. Goodbye. But then, in the 92nd minute, Géraldine Reuteler shoots at goal. Her shot goes wrong, as can be seen and as she confirmed afterwards. But the ball flies at the feet of substitute Riola Xhemaili . Goal. 1-1. The stadium is seething.

The emotional delirium clouds the senses. When the players speak to the media afterward, they are full of endorphins, pumped up to the max. After the 0-1 defeat, Reuteler claims to have seen "in the eyes of every teammate" that Switzerland would score another goal, as she says in the interview. So much determination, everywhere. And Xhemaili? She says she knew "exactly" that Reuteler would play the ball into the penalty area, "exactly" to her, because she also knew "exactly" where she had to stand to avoid being whistled back by the "heavy" video referee.

Completely detached, before midnight, in Geneva. Clairvoyants again and again. And without a doubt. Afterward. (Peter B. Birrer)

The Girl in Brooklyn

The sports fields at the Brooklyn Bridge Tiers on the East River offer breathtaking views of the New York skyline. But on this early evening, no one is paying any attention to the picturesque view. Instead, people are playing sports: the Americans are playing basketball, hockey, pickleball—and even soccer. The teenagers are imitating their role models, whom they watch on television during the Men's Club World Cup and the Women's European Championship. On the soccer fields, small groups are practicing, and some of the boys have arranged to meet for a casual, half-court game.

On the sidelines, a girl in her final year of high school is practicing alone. She's honing her technique: receiving, passing, and ball control. She dribbles through cones, juggles the ball, and plays against a concrete wall. The boys keep coming up to her and asking if she wants to play. But she shyly declines. The boys' game is too physical for her, she explains. She's on this sports field every day; soccer is her great passion. She always takes the soccer course at school, but it's only offered once a year for two months.

After school, she's considering studying interior design – should a professional soccer career not work out. Would she have been able to keep up with the boys? Of course... (Sven Haist)

Football, so familiar and yet so different

Up the steps to the Joggeli, just like hundreds of times over the past 35 years. For the first time, however, there are no men on the pitch. What seemed strange four weeks ago at the start of the European Championships is already familiar by the final. Unexpectedly familiar. It's obvious that a woman can identify more with female athletes than with male athletes. But with this tournament, something took up space whose absence had previously gone unnoticed.

This July, many women share a feeling of sudden connection with what is happening on the pitch – somewhere between amazement and a kind of excitement. It is the magic of a new beginning, even for those whose fascination with this sport began so long ago here in the stadium. After four weeks, one wonders: What is this tournament doing to the football audience? The female audience who have always watched the men? The female audience who have recently discovered football? The male audience who have learned to love the female version? Where will women's football fit into the agendas and habits of people who already have to choose between various competitions and leagues week after week? That is too early to say.

Soon, FCB will take over again at St. Jakob-Park—the men, mind you. Anton, Dominik, and Philip on the pitch. How strange. (Eva Breitenstein)