Kicking It with Wendlandt: A Comedy of Errors in Football Management In the grand theatre of football, where dreams are woven from the delicate threads of strategy, talent, and occasionally, pure luck, Hans Wendlandt stood as a figure of comedic misadventure, a sort of tragic jester in the realm of management. Born on January 18, 1918, this German football icon emerged from the shadows of the pitch to take the helm of Arminia Bielefeld from 1966 to 1969. Little did he know that his tenure would become a masterclass in what not to do when managing a football club—imagine a great Shakespearean comedy where every character tries their best only to trip over their own goals. Let’s set the scene. Picture a bright spring day in 1966. The sun is shining, and players are warming up on the field, looking like a confused assembly of talented sheep ready to be shepherded by their somewhat disoriented coach. Here steps Wendlandt, armed with his tactical headwear—probably an old hat plucked from a 1950s flea market—as if it held the secrets of football’s grandest strategies. Spoiler alert: it did not. Wendlandt believed in the idea that “practice makes perfect.” However, his interpretation was liberally applied, often leading to spirited training sessions that resembled a high school prom dance gone wrong. Players would tangle themselves in each other’s legs like a young couple unsure of their next dance move. Wendlandt, in his usual ebullient spirit, would shout instructions from the sideline that often bordered on the nonsensical, possibly mixing up football with a carnival game. "Kick it like you mean it!" he proclaimed once, leaving the players puzzled whether they were playing football or auditioning for the village football-flinging festival. Then came the strategies—oh, those strategies! Wendlandt was truly a visionary in the way that a toddler is a visionary when it comes to building a block tower: the design is there, yet the stability is suspiciously absent. His game plans were akin to an abstract painting—full of vibrant ideas but practically incomprehensible. Opponents often assumed he was running a psychological experiment rather than a competitive football approach. Why indeed was one central defender assigned to guard the goal post as if it were the last slice of pizza at a family reunion? And bless his heart, Wendlandt had a knack for player selection that could only be described as a ‘made-for-television’ mystery. You’d think that the best talent would take precedence, but occasionally he would field players who seemed to have stepped out from the benches, as if announcing, “Are you looking for a benchwarmer? Here I am!” The fans would watch in collective disbelief, raising their coffee cups in cheers for the random assortment of athleticism—perhaps a woodworker masquerading as a forward or a librarian who optimistically stepped into the role of goalkeeper. By 1969, Wendlandt's time at Arminia Bielefeld culminated not in triumph but rather in a comical anecdote about the futility of existence in management. The team, having broken several records—none of them for actual victories—moved on with a new manager, leaving Wendlandt brushing imaginary dust off his tactical hat as he bid farewell. Rumor has it he returned to coaching at a local elementary school where he utilized those same brilliant strategies. Legend states that during a parent-teacher meeting, he passionately argued for the merits of assigning a kid to guard the snack table as a defensive strategy. So, what can we learn from Hans Wendlandt’s escapades in football management? Perhaps that success is overrated, and a healthy dose of chaos might just bring laughter—and sanity—to the chaotic world of sports. After all, isn’t football meant to be a joyous spectacle? So let’s raise our glass (of lukewarm tea, because, let’s be honest, it was always lukewarm) in honor of Hans Wendlandt, the comedian we never knew we needed, whose tenure at Arminia Bielefeld was as puzzling as it was entertaining. In the theatre of football management, he was, without a doubt, the star of the slapstick show: Kicking It with Wendlandt—where the only constant was, of course, the comedy of errors.