Tag Archives: Pancho Arena

Numerology and chugging along

This morning I had a delightful brunch with a group of friends, among them a Hungarian visitor to this country. In between serious conversations about democracy and checks and balances we joked about some of the idiosyncrasies of the actors on the Hungarian political stage. When I said that I still had no idea what I was going to write about today, they urged me to say something about György Matolcsy’s crazy ideas and Viktor Orbán’s childish dream. So, I’m obliging.

The sharp-eyed Jenő Veress of Népszava is one of my favorites. He is a man with a fantastic sense of humor who delights his readers practically every day with short op/eds, usually about some ridiculous aspect of Hungarian political life. A few days ago he noticed that the address of the Hungarian National Bank is no longer Szabadság tér 8-9. It is simply Szabadság tér 9. The change seems to be so important to Matolcsy that he ordered the employees of the bank to change their business cards. Moreover, according to the personnel of the bank, all rooms that earlier were marked with the number 8 are now labeled 7/1 or 7+1.

Well, I decided to look into the numerological meaning of the number 8, and I learned that it is associated with “money and power.” As one of the sites claims, “the 8 is the great Karmic equalizer, a force that you will reap what you’ve sown.” That sounds pretty ominous to me and perhaps also to Matolcsy. Another source’s interpretation sounds outright frightening: “If you often face obstacles, meet with accidents, and feel unlucky, you are ruled by No. 8 and Saturn. Numerology for 8 when exalted makes you a saint. When afflicted it makes you a proficient criminal.” Well, what do you think of that?

Of course it’s bonkers, but Matolcsy is apt to believe all sorts of nonsense. Do you remember his infamous “red spots”? In 2012 he came up with a story he allegedly heard from Japanese scientists. According to these learned men, 30% of all Japanese and Hungarian babies are born with a “small red dot on their bottoms,” so Japanese-Hungarian economic cooperation is even genetically determined. Soon enough we learned that these spots are not red, not small, and not round, as Matolcsy claimed. Instead they are blue, can be quite large, and are of irregular shape. They are common among East Asians, Southeast Asians, Polynesians, Native Americans, and East Africans. But not among Hungarians.

A year earlier he made the claim, referring to unnamed Persian and Byzantine sources, that Hungarians’ ancestors couldn’t be rivaled in gastronomy and brain surgery. Yes, brain surgery. So, the man is an odd bird with many crazy beliefs. Why not numerology?

Matolcsy also suffers from an excessive concern for his own safety. In the fall of 2015 he allocated 200 million forints for the creation of a security force whose sole job was guarding the VIP of the Hungarian National Bank. A few months later another 140 million forints was spent on a second force for the security of the deputy chairmen, including constant surveillance of their residences. The bank bought several hundred guns and 200,000 rounds of ammunition.

Matolcsy is not the only man who suffers from an excessive fear of ordinary Hungarians. Viktor Orbán is well known for his paranoia. Even when he was the leader of the opposition he hired several body guards, and rumor had it that on October 23, 2006, knowing darned well that there would be trouble on the streets of Budapest after his fiery speech against the government, he escaped as soon as possible in a borrowed armored car. Eagle-eyed observers are certain that he sometimes wears a bullet-proof vest, and I suspect that his VW mini-bus is armored. He seems to be so afraid that, even inside the parliament building, while walking the corridors between rooms, he is followed by four body guards. And let’s not forget that one of his first acts as prime minister in 2010 was the creation of TEK (Terrorelhárító Központ), which was a force of hundreds of highly-trained men whose sole job was the security of the great man.

Oh, yes, TEK. Dozens and dozens of members of TEK worked overtime yesterday at the opening of Viktor Orbán’s mini train line. At the moment the narrow-gauge train can take passengers from Orbán’s Pancho Aréna in Felcsút to the Arboretum that was created by Archduke Joseph of Habsburg, whose former estate now belongs to the Orbán family and their friends. The whole length of the line is only 5.7 km. Orbán would like to extend it to Bicske, from which another leg to Székesfehérvár would be a cinch. And from there passengers could go all the way to Vienna. From Felcsút to Vienna. What a thrilling prospect. And how economically promising.

Orbán's train

Only a select few could participate in the opening run of the train. As a gift to Felcsút, three children from each class of the Felcsút elementary school were chosen to join the illustrious crowd. Those who had not been invited but who came out of curiosity were not allowed near the great man. Nor were the members of the media, who could watch the prime minister only from afar. The sole thing they could report was that he gesticulated a lot.

Apparently, Orbán was somewhat agitated because he is angry at those who don’t understand the importance of this project. These nay-sayers are cynics who don’t appreciate his efforts at building a prosperous Hungary. The audience also learned why rebuilding this railroad was so important to Orbán. It turned out that the Orbán family lived at the very edge of Alcsút. The train, which still functioned in his childhood, went by right next to their house. He was especially fascinated by the inspection trolleys that periodically checked the lines. He still hopes that one day he will be able to drive one. The railroad had to be rebuilt, he said, because “the communists closed it.” A lame excuse for reliving his childhood memories.

The European Union obliged in fulfilling the Hungarian prime minister’s dream. Brussels contributed 600,000 million forints for the construction, although, according to the terms of the grant, if the annual number of passengers does not reach 10,000 the money will have to be repaid. I suspect it will not be terribly difficult for the Puskás Academy Foundation, the owner of the railroad, to come up with a number that will satisfy the European Union.

There were a couple of problems even on the trial run. One of the semaphores stopped working, and the train had to stop when two female DK activists lay on the tracks and the police had to drag them off.

Today the passengers didn’t have to pay the fairly steep price of a ticket–1,000 forints for adults (more than $3.50) and 600 forints ($2.20) for students–for a twenty-minute ride from nowhere to nowhere. Today’s visitors, among them many children, were not exactly thrilled to learn that no one knows when the trains depart or when they arrive. Moreover, for no discernible reason, half-way through the trip, in Alcsút, the train sat idle for 15 minutes. While waiting for the train at the stations (there are three of them), children are provided with no entertainment. But some clever children discovered that Orbán’s train looked almost identical to the Chuggington trains on a BBC’s children program or, what I’m more familiar with, PBS’s Choo-Choo train.

choo-choo train

PBS’s Choo-Choo Train

Chuggington

BBC’s Chuggington

There is not much to see along the route, but some people were happy to discover that one could get a pretty good look at the Pancho Aréna, which normally cannot be approached by sightseers.

Finally, let me report my sad discovery last night that Puskás Academy was just booted from the NB1 category of soccer clubs. It seems that money isn’t everything. All the money that pours into Orbán’s foundation can’t make up for a lack of talent. The same is true about governance. No matter how much the Orbán regime steals from the Hungarian people, they are unable to provide a better life for the country’s citizens. The talent for governance is missing.

May 1, 2016

An Orbán interview about football

I don’t follow football, or soccer as it is called around here. Of course, I know that the performance of Hungarian football teams is abysmal and that the Hungarian prime minister spends billions of forints on stadiums that are practically empty. And naturally I know a lot about the stadium Viktor Orbán built right next to his country house in Felcsút. The stadium seats almost 4,000 people. Felcsút has a population of 1,600.

Viktor Orbán’s pet project, handsomely financed by taxpayer money, is the Ferenc Puskás Football Academy which, in the founder’s opinion, is among the top ten best academies in Europe. According to a less biased assessment, of the twelve Hungarian academies the Puskás Academy ranks ninth.

After Viktor Orbán delivered his “speech to the nation” on Friday, he went directly to Felcsút to watch the first match of the season. While there, he gave an interview to the communication director of the Academy.

What did I, a soccer know-nothing, learn from the prime minister? For starters, that the Puskás team is very weak. Naturally, Viktor Orbán said nothing of the sort, but one couldn’t help but be suspicious when he repeated several times that the emphasis in Felcsút is not on the team’s performance because, after all, it is an academy. The important thing is “teaching the students to play football.”

I also came to the conclusion that the Puskás team would be beaten every weekend if they did not hire outside, older players: Attila Fiola (25) and Attila Polonkai (36). Naturally, this is not exactly what Orbán said. He only mused about the adverse psychological effects of losing every weekend.

The stadium might empty and the team untalented but the Pancho Arena is fancy

The stadium might empty and the team untalented, but the Pancho Arena is fancy

I also learned that Orbán is worried about the possibility of the team’s losing its standing in the top tier of the National Championship (NB1), which would not be “worthy of the heritage of Ferenc Puskás.”

During the interview it also became clear that the fancy Felcsút stadium and the Puskás team attract very few spectators. Only once was the stadium full: at the opening ceremony. I was happy to learn, however, that according to Orbán “it doesn’t really matter how many spectators we have…. We don’t have fans. We have an academy.”

Also, there seems to be a fear that the low attendance has something to do with people’s political antipathy toward Viktor Orbán. The prime minister had to agree. In his opinion, the Academy and its team are frequently attacked unfairly on account of him, attacks that “are very hard to bear.” Therefore, he has the highest respect for the players. I wonder what kinds of attacks these players have to endure. We learned only that the fans of Vasas FC “sent [Orbán] in a most vulgar manner to a warmer climate.”

That’s what I learned from the interview. Since reading it, I found out that on the average there are 1,000 spectators at the Felcsút games, which (using admittedly spurious math) comes out to 3.47 million forints per spectator from taxpayer money. Another interesting bit of information I picked up was that Orbán after all must be bothered by the low turnout. Because otherwise why would it be necessary to offer free bus rides to fans from seven close-by towns and villages?

In brief, the Academy and its stadium are a flop.

Viktor Orbán’s private stadium is completed: “The resurrection of Hungarian football”

The great day is coming. Monday, which is a holiday in Hungary, will not be about the resurrection of Jesus Christ but about the resurrection of Hungarian football. I’m not kidding. This is what György Szöllősi, communication director of the Puskás Academy, said to the hundreds of reporters who showed up for the first tour of the facilities of the Pancho Arena. Why Pancho Arena? Because, as we just learned, this is what the Spaniards called Ferenc Puskás when he was playing for Real Madrid. Mind you, in Hungary everybody knew him as Öcsi Puskás (“öcsi” means younger brother or a really young boy in Hungarian). And while we are on the subject of names, Puskás’s family name until he was ten years old was Purczeld. Yes, one of the Mighty Magyars was of German extraction, a descendant of one of the many German immigrants who settled in Hungary in the early eighteenth century.

I guess the creators of the Pancho Arena in Felcsút, a Hungarian village about 40 km from Budapest, decided on the name because Viktor Orbán, who was already working on making a national superhero out of Ferenc Puskás, decided during his first premiership to name the old Népstadion (built between 1948 and 1952)  after the football legend. So, the Puskás name was already taken. Thus they had to settle for a name that isn’t terribly familiar to Hungarians.

I doubt that Puskás in his youth ever heard of this village. His favorite town was Kispest, where he started to play football. Kispest was a separate town until 1950, when it was incorporated into greater Budapest. Nonetheless, Orbán managed to get all “the Puskás treasures” in the possession of the Puskás family to Felcsút, where the prime minister spent part of his childhood and where he built a weekend house a few years ago. These “treasures,” which include old jerseys, pictures, trophies and other memorabilia, will be on permanent display in the halls of the stadium. Daily guided tours will be available to all who would like to see this “sanctuary” to Ferenc Puskás and football. The description of the arena as a sanctuary also comes from the Academy’s communication director.

The sports reporters were clearly in awe of the excellent conditions created in Felcsút for the sport. I’m also sure that they are looking forward to reporting from the press box equipped with all the latest marvels of modern technology. They lauded the turf that is being watered and heated from below ground.

Journalists who deal with political matters were less enthusiastic. They made sarcastic remarks about the man who is able to satisfy all his whims because of his position of power. They can’t quite get over the fact that such a large and ostentatious stadium, which will be able to seat 3,600, is being built in a village of 1,800 people. Index calculated that each individual inhabitant of Felcsút received 3.77 million “football” forints. One old peasant woman who was interviewed kept emphasizing that the erection of such a stadium is a real joy for the Felcsútians because “after all, the building will remain here.” But this is exactly what worries the critics. What will happen whenViktor Orbán is no longer the prime minister or when he is no longer, period? What will happen to this stadium? The same thing that happened to the one Nicolae Ceaușescu built in his birth place, the village of Scornicesti, which now stands empty and crumbling? Moreover, what can one say about the leader of an allegedly democratic country who allows a football stadium that is supposed to be an exhibition piece to be built in his backyard? Indeed, a valid comparison can be made between the Romanian dictator and Viktor Orbán. This is what a blogger was alluding to when he gave this title to his post on the stadium: “Santiago Orbaneu: Ilyen lett a felcsúti stadion.” (This is how the stadium in Felcsút turned out.)

Felcsut stadium1

Photo László Döme / pfla.hu

There are several boxes, complete with I assume well-stocked bars for those who either “deserve them” or can afford them. One box belongs to Viktor Orbán and his guests. The plaque next to the door reads: “The prime minister’s office.” That aroused the interest of the journalists, but it turned out that the plaque is somewhat misleading. It is the private box of the founder of the Puskás Academy, Viktor Orbán. It will be his as long as he lives. Another box is designated for “local entrepreneurs.” I guess it is reserved for Viktor Orbán’s front men in Felcsút.

In the VIP section the seats are apparently made out of real leather, and the lucky ones who sit there can watch game replays in slow motion on monitors attached to the backs of chairs in front of them. I’m not sure how well these leather chairs will stand up to nature’s vicissitudes and the inevitable stains.

Photo Läszló Döme / pfla.hu

Photo László Döme / pfla.hu

The elaborate wooden structure will also be difficult to keep in tip-top shape. And the copper roofs in no time will tarnish. In brief, the upkeep of the structure will be enormous. What will happen if the flow of money that is coming in now due to the founder’s position stops? Because, although perhaps Viktor Orbán doesn’t want to face the fact, financial supporters of his hobby will drop him once he is no longer of use to them. Once Viktor Orbán is out of office–because it will happen one day regardless of what some pessimistic people say–I doubt that a new Hungarian government will pick up the tab.

Source: Nëpszabadság

Those leather chairs / Source: Népszabadság

On Monday at the opening ceremony there will be the usual speeches. Two of the stars of the show will be former president Pál Schmitt, an Olympic champion and member of the International Olympic Committee, and Ángel Maria Villar, president of the Spanish Football Association and vice president of the Fédération Internationale de Football Association. The former had to resign in disgrace because of plagiarism and the latter’s reputation is marred by his possible involvement in corruption cases. What a pair!

The communication director of the Puskás Academy admitted that decent people no longer go to watch football, but he predicted that “on Monday the change of regime of Hungarian football will begin.” Critics of Orbán’s football mania very much doubt it. They consider every penny spent on stadiums a waste of limited resources. And the stadium at Felcsút a disgrace that speaks volumes about Viktor Orbán and the regime he has built.