FORWARD ULASEK!

 

The year was 1974. Citizen Mieczysław Baran was appointed Commune Head, and citizen Halina Gąsiorek was appointed office secretary. At the same meeting, in a secret ballot, the founding fathers of the Naprzód Ulasek Communal Sports Club elected Jan Franciszek Piętka president. This all took place in the auditorium of the Ulasek communal library, where the 30th anniversary of the Polish People's Republic had been celebrated a week earlier. Three bearded men watched these historic events for Ulasek from a red cloth. A shaven-shaven comrade, Citizen First Secretary Edward Gierek, peered out from beneath the beards, the audio being played from a reel-to-reel tape recorder. The most important comrade said: "The contemporary shape of our home, called Poland, was born from the persistent, collaborative work of the nation. We can be proud of its role and position in the world."

Hearing these words for the sixteenth time, citizen Halina Gąsiorek, who had just become secretary, was invariably moved. Especially at the word "home," which Comrade Edward uttered with emphasis. Citizen Gąsiorek wasn't thinking about the house called Poland; he was thinking about his own. About the civic blocks, bricks, and cement, which, now that he was the municipal secretary, he would surely arrange. When citizen Gąsiorek finished crying, the newly elected president, Jan Franciszek Piętka, approached the podium. He walked with unsteady and uncertain steps, having been celebrating the 30th anniversary of the Polish People's Republic for a week. That day, his wife even told him that if the 30th anniversary didn't end, she would take the children and go to her mother. Piętka was shaken by this threat; it's no wonder he celebrated more than usual. He was, however, a solid and disciplined man. With a flourish, he pulled a sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket, on which he had already prepared a suitable speech. Now, however, he realized that he had either picked up the wrong papers or had made a mistake during his visit to the privy. In any case, before him was a scroll of a highly sought-after article, possession of which was one of the many privileges of power. He glanced at the scroll and pretended to read. "

Dear compatriots, brothers, comrades, the newly established Naprzód Ulasek football club has a bright future ahead of it." He

gulped down a glass of soda and looked imploringly at Citizen Gąsiorek. However, she, preoccupied with mixing cement, water, and sand, didn't notice him. Piętka swallowed hard and began to talk about the recent World Cup qualifiers, because that was the only thing that came to mind. "

The Poles started disastrously, with a 2-0 away defeat to Wales." But already on June 6, 1973, our captain Lubański led the team in Chorzów to a disgraceful victory over the proud sons of Albion. What conclusion can be drawn from this, comrades?

He was answered by deafening silence. Behind him, someone exhausted by the long summer was snoring. President Piętka, undaunted by the lack of a response, continued.

"The team needs a captain. I've heard people say we need a coach. Nothing could be further from the truth. Hiring someone like that would be foolish and a waste of money. A footballer isn't an idiot; if you tell him how to play, he'll play that way. You need to hire a coach for a day or two, three at most, to have him say what he has to say."

After these words, Piętka went to fetch the water from the presidential table. How could he have known that the comrades of the community weren't accustomed to drinking water on hot days? President Piętka poured himself a full glass and drank it down. His mind buzzed. He saw the Silesian Stadium filled to the brim. Instead of the red and white team, facing England, stood the green and yellow Naprzód Ulasek. Green shorts, symbolizing the meadows surrounding Ulasek, flapped proudly on the players' legs. Yellow shirts, due to the particularly intense sun shining over the commune, were a sight to behold for the terrified Englishmen. The referee's whistle blew, and they were off. Tadek Kuduk feinted past McFarland, and a sharp shot into the top corner was caught by Shilton. Despite his best intentions, President Piętka didn't see the next move, which looked destined for a goal. Podleś headed the ball six times and passed it to Zaręba… just then, someone turned out the lights. Chief Baran woke up and shouted, "

Get him out of this heat."

Thus ended the historic meeting at which GKS Naprzód Ulasek was founded.

The club's subsequent history unfolded as follows. When the 30th anniversary ended, President Piętka continued his patriotic fervor, and, surrounded by friends and sometimes comrades – football activists from other communes – he began celebrating the 31st anniversary. His wife took the children with her, and Piętka was happy because he could devote himself entirely to football. One Sunday, as a community service, construction of the 30th Anniversary stadium began. The meadows near the cemetery seemed to be everyone's cup of tea; they belonged to the parish, which was irrelevant in a materialistic age. The priest, a relic of the old system, had no right to protest; otherwise, the combined forces of the working class, peasants, and a few intellectuals might have become upset. After clearing away molehills and cow dung, pine goals were erected. A ball was found, and the first training session took place that same Sunday. Then someone remembered President Piętka's speech about hiring a coach. Piętka didn't remember anything, but pretended to know what was going on. He promised to personally go to Warsaw and arrange for whoever needed it. The next day, he boarded a local train from Małkinia to Warsaw Wieleńska, and in less than two hours, he arrived. He drank from the soda fountain. He ate a sandwich and went for a walk along Targowa Street toward the Różycki Bazaar. There, at the gate, a suspicious man accosted him.

"What do you wish, sir?"

President Piętka, due to his position, didn't want to engage in conversation with the guy. He tried to bypass him. Then the guy began listing the goods and services he owned.

"I need a watch, maybe the gentleman would like to exchange some dollars, maybe a suit for you, a shoe resoled, or maybe a girl?"

President Piętka swallowed. The guy saw the twinkle in Piętka's eyes and knew he had him.

"A girl?"

"For an hour, maybe longer, whatever the boss wants. Black, redheaded, fat, thin, whatever the client wants. She can be hunchbacked, busty, childlike, bald, with a mustache."

President Piętka was escorted by the guy to the appropriate address. After two hours, he emerged satisfied and several years younger. He boarded the train and returned with a sense of duty well done. In Ulask, where they were waiting for him as if he were a savior, he announced with a pained expression that finding a coach wasn't as easy as he thought and would require several more visits to Warsaw. President Piętka had traveled to Warsaw over twenty times, returning with the same pained expression and, with the same gesture of outstretched hands, telling his compatriots that this time too he hadn't succeeded.

Then one day, President Piętka stopped in Warsaw for a beer. He looked up and saw a fat man in a tracksuit with "Legia" written on it sitting right next to him. The president knew how to talk to people, so he approached the fat man with a half-liter and said he'd been looking for someone like him since the fall. At first, Chłopina defended himself, saying that his brother-in-law was working at the stadium and had gotten him the tracksuit, but he was just an ordinary tram driver, and his name was Sędek. Halfway through the second bottle, the tram driver Sędek twirled his mustache, tensed up, and said that for someone like President Piętka, he'd do anything.

They walked together toward the station, and on the way, the chairman sent a telegram to the municipality: "I'm coming back. Stop. Not alone. Stop."

That was Friday. Coach Sędek's welcome began on the platform in Ulask. At three in the morning, when the first train was leaving for Warsaw, Sędek tried to struggle, but he was denied. He was carried to the stadium. By seven in the morning, about twenty men had gathered on the pitch. Most of them hadn't yet sobered up. Sędek, the tram driver, watched them carefully, as if assessing their fitness for the game. Finally, he summoned the chairman for a consultation.

"What do they want from me?" he asked, quite seriously. "

Tell them something, how to play, or let them fly."

Sędek, the tram driver, sighed and said, "

Run, ready, set, fly around the pitch until I say stop."

When, after an hour, the entire group lay panting on the grass, Sędek smacked his lips and said.

-Gentlemen, this is not good, I have to go to work now, but when I get back I'll take care of you.

President Piętka's pleas and threats were to no avail. The judge became determined, saying he had a second shift and that it would be a shame to lose such a job, because where else would he find another one? Finally, he kissed the president with a shotgun and left.

President Piętka looked at the barely breathing players and said,

"Did you hear what

 the coach said? It's not good.