A very complex mental formula emerged: frustration, schizophrenia, confusion and rage together. And definitely aggressiveness.
They were painting at my place - there will be a wedding in Zöldfa utca - and somehow stadiums came up. Of course, there was talk of "why so many stadiums" etc., it would have been a shame to argue. Mainly because Saki claimed with complete conviction - and it was impossible to waver - that the Népstadion still stands on Verseny utca. I tried to convince them that it was a different stadium, only out of "mercy" - very correctly - the style of the pylons was preserved, but I was unsuccessful.
I even made a hesitant attempt to explain that the building on the site of the Népstadion is a football stadium and event center, meaning it is not suitable for athletic events. However, for organizing world-class football matches and concerts, yes. And maybe it's not some sky-high luxury or bullshit if Hungary has such a stadium and a field suitable for athletics competitions. Where the World Athletics Championships are currently taking place. I probably didn't succeed in convincing him. Maybe I wasn't determined enough, maybe I have doubts too. Not about the Puskás Arena or the new Athletic Center, but about small towns, which are overpowered, lacking spectators, with an army of "legions", and meanwhile Győr, Szeged, Pécs, Szombathely, Nyíregyháza are far from NB 1.
And what hair-raising nonsense it was for me to once trust that the European Union - the "Europe of regions" - would make a Carpathian basin championship possible. And then the championships of Budapest, Bratislava, Cluj, Debrecen, Nagyvárad, Kassa, Dunaszerdahely, Zagreb, Miskolc, Brasov can be the competition of Germany, France, and Italy.
So the Népstadion is no longer standing. I was in the new Puskás Arena. Great, fitting for a nation with such a long history as ours. Absolutely: a nation that gives something for itself deserves a stadium like this. I say it has a great past, but I dream of a great future. This is what a wedding is all about! It does not collapse into Buda.
According to professional and ape-mongers, the dilapidated, never-completed stadium handed over in 1953, which has meanwhile become life-threatening, would suit us.
Just as the ruins would walk in the castle, the weedy "excavations", fire walls, and doorways smelling of urine. In the Városliget, the paths with dog poop, weeds, and the beautiful PECSA. The concrete slab on Dózsa György út! Wow. That was nice. I could go on, but why? They certainly don't go out to play in this stadium. The House of Music is avoided by far, as is the Museum of Ethnography. And they really want no one else to go there.
A very complex mental formula emerged: frustration, schizophrenia, confusion and rage together. And definitely aggressiveness.
They would be the kurucs (those struggling with power), but since they feel that the kuruc position is occupied, they would stand on the bench. But of the worst kind, because there were even among the Labans who wanted to build and use it, and many did. Just as the curucs could also harm the country, so "curucocada" especially. The time of kurucs and labanks is over: the time of patriots has come. It's an interesting era, when rebellion should also be constructive. There is so much trouble in the world.
The situation was not much better eighty years ago. Then they handed over the Népstadion. It wasn't ready, but they didn't give up. During the laying of the foundation stone, the President of the Republic Zoltán Tildy was shoveling pork with a shovel in his hand, but two weeks later he began his delicious eight-year captivity. (For the sake of greater momentum, his son-in-law was executed.) Mihály Farkas was the main person responsible for the project, but so much happened in the meantime! Many hundreds of people were executed, thousands were imprisoned, forced labor, displacement, deportation. Gábor Péter, ÁVH, Recsk and the rest. But the hard workers carried the concrete in wheelbarrows, and the great work was built. Slowly.
In the meantime, Stalin also died, and his successors reprimanded Mátyás Rákosi, the wise leader of our people. He was also removed from his position as prime minister and replaced by Imre Nagy. Rákosi's only real opponent in the Party. Rajk, who was executed, János Kádár, Gábor Péter, Árpád Szakasits, György Marosán, Gyula Kállai and the others who were imprisoned were actually not dangerous to Rákosi. Neither did Ernő Gerő, because his Alamus character suited him to the role of "gray eminence".
Imre Nagy was a remarkable communist, as early as 1953 it was apparent that he was willing to make significant changes within the system. The communist blood was also mixed with schizophrenic elements.
Different age, different opportunities. In any case, he sat in the middle at the handover ceremony of the Népstadion. Farkas somehow just intruded there. Under Soviet pressure, Imre Nagy returned him to the Party's Political Committee after he "frightened and cowardly practiced self-criticism". Of course, it was not self-criticism, but the Soviet demand, because since Farkas was removed from the Political Committee (it was the most important decision-making body), "the secret reports to Moscow have not been sent". The handover ceremony followed the usual socialist script: live pictures, athletic competitions and gymnastic demonstrations, a soccer match in which the Hungarian team defeated the Soviet Union (!); folk dance, ghoul, red star, fight for peace, etc. There was Avery Brundage, the president of the IOC - an "American imperialist" - who was allegedly not seated in the hall of honor, and that is why Budapest missed out on the right to host the 1960 Olympics. But we love these conspiracies too!
My God, as if the Kádárs really wanted to bring the world here in 1960. They were still hanging then. (That is, for political reasons.) The prisons were full of political prisoners.
I have been to the Népstadion many times. I loved the endless wooden benches and was always a little annoyed that they never closed the upper section. We went with my wife, she got tickets for the double rallies from somewhere. Even now, I have the two enchanted pushers in front of me, who were able to fly into an unseemly rage because of a judge's decision. In their indignation, they fell straight from the 20th row to the fence to show their dissatisfaction with the quality of refereeing by cursing something like an orderly. Then gently supporting each other back to their seats. They had a drink in their hand - it didn't spill as I recall - and they did this about three times in one half. The whole maneuver had a ceremonial character, and we really liked that. We were surrounded by so many unnecessary, stupid ceremonies that it was refreshing.
I only remember one specific match. It was when Öcsi Puskás came home and they played an old boys' game there. It was a full house, I remember. We sat close to the VIP stands. It's hard to describe how it felt to see Öcsi with the ball in his belly, and the ovation when he scored with a pike header is even harder.
Back then it was still Brezhnev, even Kim Il Sung! I definitely remember two concerts. One was Omega, the other was the Rolling Stones. These were in the 2000s. Then one day they filmed some kind of film and invited me as an "expert". I took advantage of the opportunity and walked out onto the green lawn to the starting circle. My gaze floated up to the sky. The stands were completely empty, yet as if they had come alive. I raised my hand, sniffed deeply into the air. Then I walked into the waiting room near the VIP box, where the furniture was still there. At least the armchairs and sofas. Cars could be parked directly next to the rooms. I don't remember what I was talking about, but I know that the whole thing was on my mind: what will happen to this furniture? It looked like they had been there since 1953. Did Mick Jagger sit in it too, and the Wanderer? Fenyőék with Hungary? Lori Schuster and Freddie Mercury? Louis Armstrong? No, no, it wasn't the dressing room. It was opposite, in the "tower", which turned out to have three floors. There were others sitting there, but they were having a good time.
I'm getting ready for a wedding now. There will be a party here too. I'm thinking of old weddings. I drink with Lacy Nagy. He shouts in good spirits: Long live the young couple, long live; Be fruitful, be fruitful; Behold, the word may take flesh if it can; Long live the young couple, but don't move now; Youth, hawk, the world is yours and the world is for you; Long live the wedding, long live the wedding; Long live the lalala lakoda lakoda wedding! Was there a wedding at the Népstadion?
The author is a historian
