Klaus Wolfermann: One Litter, One Life

For many people, it will only be news that briefly arouses interest in a few lines that are then quickly skimmed over. If at all. Klaus Wolfermann has died. How intensely this news affects the reader probably depends primarily on their own age, because only a certain generation still knows how to give this name the appropriate meaning. And of course, you should also be interested in sports. Klaus Wolfermann was a javelin thrower and, above all, he was an Olympic champion. And even more so, he was someone who saw his competitors across borders as friends and not just as enemies. For me, the news of his death was as if someone had pressed the start button on a video recorder. I see Klaus, whom I later had the pleasure of meeting privately, as he starts running. He looked stocky (he was only 1.76m tall). He had a jet-black beard, which is more fashionable now than it was then. When he took his first steps with his javelin in the last attempt in the packed Olympic Stadium in Munich in 1972, he was in second place. Janis Lusis, the serial winner and multiple European champion (there were no world championships at the time), was ahead of him. When the tip of the javelin flew over the 90m mark, there was suddenly a sensation in the air. At the time, I was sitting in front of the television in the Bundeswehr barracks in Freising. During those Olympic days, we were certainly never able to defend ourselves, because even in the officers' quarters, the events of September 3, 1972 were being followed. No one could have guessed that two days later, a Palestinian terrorist organization would carry out a murderous attack on the Israeli team. Among the eleven hostages killed was the weightlifter Josef Romano, with whom Wolfermann had previously trained. The Golden 3rd of September But back to this special day with Klaus and other German athletes. Bernd Kannenberg won gold in the walk (3 kilometers) on September 50rd, and Hildegard Falck won the 800m. It was a golden day. Klaus hopped around like a goblin after his fifth attempt. His jersey number 412 was suddenly a lucky number. But Janis Lusis still had an attempt to make. His javelin followed the trajectory of Wolfermann's javelin almost exactly. And landed almost exactly in the same place. But only almost. Two centimeters behind. 90.46m. Wolfermann won. 90.48m. His first stop was Lusis, and what happened at that moment and what continued later has long since become a great story about two extraordinary athletes and people. Wolfermann said to Lusis in the first few minutes after his victory was confirmed: "I'm sorry I won." You have to know that Lusis had previously been considered unbeatable. His answer at the time: "It doesn't matter, I've already won in Mexico." That was four years earlier. They hugged each other warmly and it really became a friendship for life. We then opened a little can of worms in the barracks. Naturally, because it was a big day for Germany, especially since Heide Rosendahl also won silver in the pentathlon. A year later, in Leverkusen, Wolfermann beat Lusis' world record with 94.08m. The mark stood for four years. But amazingly, this achievement was never mentioned much. The feeling of happiness from that magical Olympic day was too deep. It overshadowed the world record. An extraordinary friendship The friendship between Lusis and Wolfermann was constantly renewed with mutual family visits and even survived the Cold War. Klaus also learned a lot from his opponent, who was fighting for the Soviet Union at the time, but as a six-year-old had to witness his father being murdered by the Red Army, which was marauding through Latvia in 1945. Lusis' story is also a story of the post-war period. From the incorporation of the Baltic states by the USSR to Latvia's independence in 1989. His later friend was Klaus Wolfermann's role model in sports. He emulated him and then beat him in his most important competition. The greatness of both, one in victory, the other in defeat, can certainly serve as an example in our time too. Actually, forever. No matter which generation you belong to. Janis Lusis, who was seven years older than Klaus Wolfermann, died four years ago. Now the "Golden Arm of Munich" has followed him. Klaus Wolfermann was 78 years old. He was and is a legend. And above all an idol. Because during his career - even in his greatest moment - and also afterwards, he showed that in sport, competition does not have to exclude cooperation. About the author: Sigi Heinrich The award-winning sports journalist (including winner of the German Television Award, the Bavarian Sports Award and nominated for the prestigious Grimme Prize), author, long-time sports editor of the Süddeutsche Zeitung and commentator at Eurosport since 1989, devotes his weekly column to the entire diversity of sport. Sometimes with a smile, sometimes thoughtful or deliberately provocative. There should be something for everyone.

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Klaus Wolfermann: One Litter, One Life

Klaus Wolfermann was a legend and a role model for human interaction in sport. The German Olympic javelin champion from Munich in 1972 has now died at the age of 78. Our columnist Sigi Heinrich saw his golden throw at the time, which sparked one of the greatest friendships in the history of sport.

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