I still possess a small photo that Heidegger sent me at Christmas in 1952: "The photo shows a place northwest of the castle where I used to hand around a lot as a boy." Was this the improvised soccer field of the Messkirch youth, where little Martin used to play left wing? Even later, he never denied this role of his in sports, although it was generally known that he was a good skier and swimmer. I was thus somewhat surprised when one day in the early sixties, he asked me whether anyone where I lived in Freiburg has a television set and, if so, whether he could be accepted as a member of the audience to watch a big soccer game. No less surprised, my landlord accepted him gladly. When Heidegger arrived on the appointed afternoon, he freely and easily joined the small family circle, which was versed in soccer. When I offered him a cup of tea, he looked at me slyly, smiled, and said, "Okay, Petzet, now go upstairs to your apartment and work--you know nothing about soccer!" With that, he turned to watch the game between Barcelona and Brussels. Later I heard that at one point he was "playing along" with the teams with his left foot so vigorously that the rest of his tea spilled on his knee. Similar occasions brought him more often to Schwarzwaldstrasse [Petzet's domicile].
