Procedures outside the stadiums and in the parking areas still

In the voice of Otto Schily we hear a truth that is both practical and profound: “Procedures outside the stadiums and in the parking areas still need to be optimized, for example so that emergency medical services can leave the grounds on their way to the hospital faster.” At first glance, these words may seem a technical matter of logistics, a detail of planning for large events. But when we look deeper, we see that they are a reflection of one of the oldest truths of human life: in moments of danger, preparation is salvation.

The heart of Schily’s words lies in the movement of emergency medical services. For when life trembles on the edge of death—when a heart falters in the stands, when an accident befalls a reveler in the crowd—every second is sacred. The swiftness with which a stretcher moves, the clarity of the path to the hospital, these are not trivialities. They are the difference between mourning and recovery, between despair and hope. Schily’s insight is that the glory of the spectacle within the stadium must never eclipse the quiet structures of care beyond it.

History reminds us that neglect of such procedures can lead to catastrophe. In 1989, at Hillsborough Stadium in England, a crush of fans led to the death of 97 people. Part of the tragedy lay not only in the overcrowding but in the delayed ability of rescuers to reach the injured. The lesson of that day was carved into stone: when the flow of rescue is hindered, preventable deaths occur. Schily’s call for optimization is thus not bureaucratic fussing, but the echo of past tragedies urging us toward vigilance.

The deeper meaning here is that safety is not only about walls and guards but about foresight. The stadiums may be filled with songs, cheers, and triumph, yet beyond the gates must be roads kept clear, exits kept free, pathways prepared for those who carry the wounded. Just as ancient armies trained not only for the battle itself but for the care of the wounded after combat, so must modern societies ensure that joy does not blind us to responsibility. Celebration without preparedness courts disaster.

In this sense, Schily’s words are a parable for all of life. For how often do we focus on the main stage—the spectacle, the achievement, the glory—while neglecting the hidden supports that sustain it? The student may polish his speech but forget to rest. The worker may labor on the grand project but neglect his health. The family may host a feast but forget the needs of the weakest member. His teaching is clear: greatness is not only in what is seen, but in what is prepared unseen.

The lesson for us, then, is to cultivate foresight and responsibility. Let each of us, in our own lives, ensure that the “exits” are clear, that the unseen procedures of safety, kindness, and care are kept ready. This means thinking not only of success but of contingency, not only of glory but of compassion. Support systems, like emergency routes, may seem dull until the moment they are needed—and then they are revealed as priceless.

Therefore, let us honor Schily’s wisdom. If you lead, prepare not only for victory but for failure. If you celebrate, remember to protect the vulnerable. If you build, think not only of the center but of the margins, where life so often turns. For just as the swift passage of an ambulance can save a life, so too can the small acts of foresight in our daily lives preserve peace, dignity, and hope. And in this way, every stadium of human endeavor—whether of sport, of work, or of family—may be filled not only with joy, but with safety and with care.