They won't get me, I'm part of the Union

I'm very much a Merseyside boy, with split footballing loyalties. It can sometimes happen. I was raised a Liverpool fan; my earliest memories was going with my Dad to the Anfield Kop. But then I've been many more times to sit in the Cowsheds at my hometown team, Tranmere Rovers (the Wirral's finest!).

Last season Tranmere were relegated out of the league and into the Conference (now called the National League, which itself sounds a little like a sinister fascist political party.) So I've experienced life at both ends of the English football league.

My first trip to Stadion an der alten Försterei (Stadium near the old forester's house), the home of 1.FC Union Berlin, in the lower reaches of 2. Fußball-Bundesliga (2^nd division), reminded me of a heaving Anfield in full swing. 

And, like Liverpool, a cherished club that evokes dedicated passion from fans, 1.FC Union Berlin is so entwined with its fanbase that it demands devotion from its supporters. It is this history and community that attracted me when searching for a club to support in my new Berlin home.

Pre-1989, east of the Wall, Union was a hotbed of anti-Stasi and anti-Communist sedition, so much so that the old ground developed into a meeting point for regime critics. When Union had a free-kick, the spectators used to shout "Die Mauer muss weg" (“the wall has to fall”). Union's hated local rivals, BFC Dynamo, received financial support from the Ministry of State Security, and was very much the team of the east Berlin Soviet officials. Now there's a local rivalry that defines the term.

Nowadays, happily, some traditions still cling on. When Union have a corner, some in the crowd take out their keys and jingle them at the players. This is a nod to the team's nickname of Eisern Union (Iron Union) from the 1960s, derived from the name Schlosserjungs (Schlosser boys), working class employees of Schlosser, the colloquial name for small companies that carry out construction metal work.

As in Soviet times, Union's fans are legend, and they define the club; their legend is literally woven into the DNA of Union. In 2004, the club urgently needed £1.5m to avoid bankruptcy. The supporters stepped up and organised "Bleed for Union" where fans gave blood and forwarded the reimbursement to the club. And who then, four years later, worked free for 140,000 hours to physically rebuild their stadium.

Our love. Our team. Our pride. Our club

The club motto, writ large over the stands, sung with pride at every game, is a anthem to fall in love with: Unsere Liebe. Unsere Mannschaft. Unser Stolz. Unser Verein. Our love. Our team. Our pride. Our club.

The legendary punk singer Nina Hagen sings the club hymn, played before every game, firing up the crowd. Kind of a Half Man Half Biscuit for Union.

As each Union player is announced pre-game, the crowd roars 'Fußball- Gott' – football God!

There is a saying at Union that captures the spirit of the club perfectly: Sie gehen zum Fußball, gehen wir zu Union ('You go to the football, we go to Union!').

With the club and fans so intimately joined, it's no wonder that the atmosphere, at an average home game against a mid-table team, crackled.

During the game itself, four men in the main kop stand on podiums above the crowd with microphones and drums, leading the swaying, singing crowd.

And there's the key word – swaying. British football league crowds haven't swayed since the 80s. 80% of Union's ground, much like the majority of Germany's football grounds, is for standing fans. Well regulated, safe, secure standing fans: light years away from the pre-Taylor Report zoos found at British football grounds.

For £10 I watched a great match between two major-ish football league teams, stood the whole 90 minutes with fellow fans, sang, chatted, and swayed, and all with a beer in my hand. A cold beer. A cold German beer. Refreshed regularly in the stands, not missing a beat, by one of the nice chaps with beer kegs strapped to their backs.

The Germans have this football thing sorted. The UK could really learn a thing or two here.

The forest trail to the ground from the U-Bahn.
Pre-game BBQs are a common sight here. As is beer. 

Union lost on the day, giving us much to discuss as we melted into the forest, heading to the U-Bahn station.

But for most supporters, though, success in football is a distant abstract, a Gatsbian green light that only the lucky few ever reach. 

This is not why we support.

We pick a side because a football club is a beating heart that pumps blood to feed oxygen to its supporters. Without the oxygen of support, a club withers on the vine. 

Football, in its distilled, pure essence, away from TV rights squabbles, glittering baubles and devaluing corporate deals, is still about a community, a history, a tradition, a story, love. It's about that beating heart, and how strongly it pumps blood through its veins.

Union's heart beats loud, and the blood flows strong.