A Life Too Short: The Tragedy of Robert Enke by Ronald Reng

A goalkeeper is trained all his life to show no signs of despair, disappointment or fear. That ability always to appear in control of things helped Robert to live on when depression took hold of him. And that gift became his fate when the illness led him to seek his own death. He concealed his intention so well that no-one could help him any longer.

 

On Tuesday 10 November 2009, he calls out ‘Hallo Ela!’ from the kitchen when the housekeeper arrives at 9 o’clock. He gives his second daughter, Leila, ten months old, a kiss on the forehead and says goodbye to Teresa, his wife. Robert checks the magnetic board in the kitchen and notes the errands that he needs to do. Then he’s out the door. He has two training sessions today and will be back at about half past six, as always. That was what he said to Teresa.

 

But there was no training arranged for this Tuesday.

 

Robert Enke’s suicide on that cool autumn evening brought together people who were close to him and people who had never heard his name before in that state where you feel raw inside, as if you’ve been torn apart.

 

Teresa requests a poem for her final birthday that she subsequently spends with Robert. He looks inquisitively at her to see if she actually means it. Robert rarely uses his valuable hands to write. Apart from his diary.

 

Ronald Reng relives Robert’s mind via the medium of his diary, focusing specifically on the day of the goalkeeper’s suicide and its lasting consequences.

 

Whilst being a footballer is a fantastic job, there cannot be many worse professions if you are sensitive, anxious or have a mental illness. The dressing room is not a working environment like an office; it’s closer to a playground. Everyone is jostling for position.

Robert’s chosen position was a goalkeeper, the place of those odd men who live in a very different psychological universe than the rest of the players on the field. They are the only individual in what is a team game. The other ten players can make numerous mistakes in a game, but if they score that last minute winner, they would go home the hero. However, it is role-reversal for a goalkeeper. You could play brilliantly for 89 minutes, but if you make a positional error, or if the ball moves, swerves or dips, it is your fault.

It is harder for goalkeepers than outfield players. They live in a world of negativity because in no other position is a mistake so costly. They are judged by how many errors they commit. There is the constant risk they could lose all confidence and the responsibility must weigh heavily.

Every weekend, professional sportsmen like him play out the dream that everything is achievable. More than most footballers, Robert gave the public the illusion that every obstacle could be overcome - similarly to the Rushden & Diamonds goalkeeper, Dale Roberts, who killed himself one year after Enke. Being misunderstood is part of a goalkeeper’s trade. You wouldn’t want to be a goalkeeper unless you were misunderstood.

At the age of 29, Robert had made it into the national side. He suffered depression four years earlier, whilst stranded in the second division in Spain. His first daughter Lara, had died in 2006 due to a heart birth defect, however Robert and his wife Teresa appeared to cope with their loss.

In 2009, outwardly at least, Robert had appeared to regain happiness. He had everything. A family with a daughter, as well as the prospect of being in goal for his country at the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. However, in early August 2009 the depression returned, worse than ever.

The facts are regularly in the newspapers. More people die every day of depression-related suicide than in road accidents. Such figures don’t give us anything more than a vague idea that sadness is too hard for some people to bear.

What power must this illness have if it can draw a man like Robert Enke to the mistaken conclusion that death is the only solution? What darkness must have surrounded this sensitive person if he could no longer recognize what pain he would be inflicting on his loved ones with his death? And on the driver whose train he threw himself under that November evening? How do people live with depression, or even just with the knowledge that it could envelop them at any time? With the fear of fear? Robert wanted to provide those answers himself. It was he who wanted to write this book, not Ronald Reng.

In the diary that he kept during his depressive periods, the entries get more concise the more violently the illness affects him. Reng recalls that on the last page of Enke’s diary, there is a single sentence in huge letters. It was presumably supposed to be a reminder to Enke himself; but today it reads like a challenge to us all: “Don’t forget these days.”