written by STEFAN KRUECKEN School dropout, soccer-pro, global entrepreneur – the completely crazy story of Bobby Dekeyser 2 3 By Bobby Dekeyser With Stefan Kruecken not for sale ! Not for Sale! School dropout, soccer pro, global entrepreneur – the completely crazy story of Bobby Dekeyser US Edition, January 2014 All rights reserved. © 2012 by Ankerherz Verlag, Germany © Author: Bobby Dekeyser, with Stefan Kruecken Cover design: Daniela Greven Cover photo: Steven Haberland Design, layout & production: Daniela Greven Illustrations: Christian Nauck Edited by: Lucais Sewell Printed by: CPI – Clausen & Bosse, Leck, Germany Printed on eco-friendly, acid-free paper by Munkedals, Sweden Made in Germany ISBN: 978-3-940138-61-3 www.notforsalebook.com www.dedon.de 6 We busted out of class had to get away from those fools We learned more from a three minute record than we ever learned in school Tonight I hear the neighborhood drummer sound I can feel my heart begin to pound You say you’re tired and you just want to close your eyes and follow your dreams down We made a promise we swore we’d always remember No retreat no surrender. Bruce Springsteen, No Surrender 8 For Ann-Kathrin, Carolin, Yannick, Marie, my wonderful family and our friends all over the world. 9 CONTENT Prologue Ann-Kathrin 11 ONE Advice from a Legend 19 TWO The Fairytale of Munich 41 THREE A Manic Monk 57 FOUR Hollywood in Höhenkirchen 73 FIVE Break on the Bahamas 87 SIX A Kidnapped Company 101 SEVEN Hollywood has to Wait 119 EIGHT Emergency Exit Geneva 137 NINE Rescued in a Bathrobe 153 TEN Zero Hour 173 ELEVEN New York, New York 195 10 11 Prologue ANN-KATHRIN I answer the phone call that is to change everything, that is to be so terrible and earth-shattering, that is to turn everything upside down and leave nothing as it was before, in paradise. Paradise is the only appropriate word for this place, as anyone who has been here will testify: Siargao, an island in the Philippine ar- chipelago. Palm trees grow on white sandy beaches, and the air is warm and soothing. I’m on a visit to meet our architects from Paris, who are here to convert the resort we’ve purchased. We want to create “Dedon Island,” a liberating place, a retreat for enjoying the simple things in life. After landing on the island and being driven through the jungle by jeep, I am now standing with a cool drink on the sandy beach. My Blackberry vibrates. My sister Sonja’s number lights up on the display. I can tell that something is not quite right by the tone in her voice. “Everything okay with everyone?” I ask. She’s finding it hard to say anything. “Ann-Kathrin just fainted while exercising. She’s on her way to the hospital and is unconscious. She’s in a coma. It doesn’t look good. Come back as quickly as you can,” she says. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any news.” 12 I hear these sentences but I don’t understand them. It’s as if I’m numb; the beach under me seems to be spinning. Ann-Kathrin is in a coma? She took me to the airport just a few days ago, she kissed me goodbye, next year we’re celebrating our twenty-fifth anniversary, we’ve already made plans to take a long trip. She’s always healthy – a beautiful, vivacious woman, forty-four years old. Some say she has an aura like an angel because she exudes goodness and warmth. Ann-Kathrin is in a coma? It can’t be, it simply can’t be. It feels as if I’m falling into an abyss, tumbling deeper and deeper, with nothing to stop me. I sit down, I feel sick and there are thousands of thoughts racing through my head at once, but mainly: how can I get back to Ham- burg as quickly as possible? It’s a long flight to Europe that normally takes just under 18 hours. I can feel the panic rising. I run toward the restaurant, inform my eldest daughter Carolin, who is accom- panying me on this trip, and Hervé, an old friend who manages our factory. He makes a phone call. The next scheduled flight back to Cebu International Airport is tomorrow morning. Dusk is already falling and a private jet cannot land on the unlit jungle runway. Perhaps there’s a helicopter? Hervé, who is like a brother to me, promises to take care of it. I send my wife a text message even though I am aware that she can’t read it – I’m gripped by a feeling of having to do something, anything, to send her my love. My angel, I’m sending you all my strength. I’m coming as quickly as possible. Carolin and I hug each other. What can we do? We walk up and down the beach. We can’t grasp the news: Only yesterday we had opened a communal house on Cebu Island, a gift from the “Dekeyser & Friends” foundation to local landfill dwellers, who we 13 are resettling in a new village. The goal is to give families who live on the mountains of refuse a new home. Just the day before yester- day we were celebrating the tenth anniversary of our factory with thousands of employees at a lively party, with music and dancing. And just a few weeks ago we travelled to New York with the whole family to celebrate our new showroom in the heart of SoHo with a rooftop party. Life was so full, so colorful. It is amazing how quickly things can change. I call the hospital in Hamburg and the intensive care physician on duty picks up the phone: “A blood vessel has burst in your wife’s head, she has heavy cranial bleeding. There is not much hope she will survive,” he says. I hang up. I feel like I’m going mad. Facing the sea, I scream as loud as I can; I scream out of fear, grief and desperation. Then I tell myself there is still a chance. Didn’t the phy- sician just use the word “hope”? Every minute that passes without any news is good. “We’ll cope, we’ll cope together,” I say to Carolin, who is in shock. At least that’s what I try to convince myself. I’m a steadfast optimist. I’m of the opinion that nothing is impossible if you have faith. There’s news: a helicopter is on its way. We cry, we wait for the new day, we wander around the resort. The helicopter lands but I don’t really register any of it. We take off, fly to Cebu and board the plane for Hong Kong. I experience everything as if I’m in a trance. When we land in Hong Kong I turn on my Blackberry full of fear, anticipation and hope. No news is good news. “We can do it,” I say. “She will get well again.” Eight hours until the connecting flight to Europe, a brutal layo - ver. Eight hours is too long to stay in this building. We have to get out of the airport, get some fresh air; we want to walk around, move about. We take the express train from the airport island over to the mainland. My cell phone rings again. It’s my brother-in-law Jan, 14 who is at the hospital with my sister. At that precise second the train stops. “She’s dead.” What happens to a person at that moment is very hard to describe. It’s like a horror film that you want to stop, that you want to switch it off, but you can’t find the button. It’s a pain like being stabbed, a feeling as if you’re being torn into little pieces and knocked out at the same time, that your worst imaginable nightmare has now become reality. Ann-Kathrin and I have three children, Carolin, Yannick and Marie, and we have the happiest marriage you can imagine. We’ve weathered storms together, we’ve reached the top, we’ve ex- perienced everything together – victories, defeats. We are always unconditionally there for each other. Ann-Kathrin is my partner, my best friend, my confidante, and my anchor; she’s my strength and my soul. She’s the love of my life. My mind tells me she is dead but my heart cannot comprehend this. I don’t know how we will get from the bench in the train station to the plane; everything is blurred by tears and pain. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t drink. I can’t think clearly anymore and I fear that I’m going crazy. My daughter Carolin and I cling onto each other as if we’re drowning. We land in Hamburg, and our family picks us up from the airport. Yannick, my eighteen-year old son, has come home from New York. Marie, the youngest, is also there, as is my sister Sonja, my brother- in-law Sven, Uncle Seppi, Auntie Resi and our closest friends. We drive to the hospital, enter the mortuary. Ann-Kathrin is lying on the bed as beautiful as ever. I hold her hand, kiss her face, talk to her. Afterward, I flee to the coast with the children, to the island of Sylt, which is a bit similar to the Hamptons, only near Hamburg, off the coast of northwest Germany. I am consumed by grief and silence and a feeling that something has just happened that shouldn’t have. What moves me is how our large family, my children in particular, 15 and our friends stick together. What remains is friendship and trust. An unbelievable warmth and sympathy fills so many moments following Ann-Kathrin’s death: The funeral at St. John’s Church in Hamburg and the time we spend in Ibiza to scatter her ashes are special, tender moments. For weeks afterward, I wake up suddenly at night, hoping that everything is just a bad dream. Nobody calls me on my birthday just a few days after the funeral, and that’s good. I look at photos, browse through albums, watch videos. I cry a lot. Time flies by and yet it feels so tough, so dark and so empty. Innumerable times I look toward the door, listen carefully when the phone rings, with the thought that maybe she might be back again. — This book was supposed to tell my story, a story full of optimism, faith and courage. My story has taken a rather strange and in some places even mad course – it reveals a life path that should actually be impossible based on school performance and the normal rules of economics. If I had listened to my teachers, financial advisers, and many other doubters and complainers, my story never would have existed. In committing to write this book, I wanted to show that any goal can be achieved if you fight for it and are creative along the way. However, after Ann-Kathrin’s death this story now has to be told differently, as the perspective has shifted. The ease and lightheartedness are now gone. What has remained though, what has become more important than ever, after months of questioning everything and trying to make sense of it all, are eternal values. They are what this book is about: friendship, loyalty, a passion for life, 16 respect and trust. Familial bonds, genuine friendship – these are the things that matter. I hope that my story inspires others to find their way in life. Everyone’s path is different: there are no road signs or guarantees, and there is no one-size-fits-all map. But the journey is worth it. Ann-Kathrin. 18 19 One ADVICE FROM A LEGEND I want this story to encourage all those who read it. In particular, I want to advise you to listen to your own heart. And to take a chance – to finally act on your dreams, to take a leap of faith into the unknown. To follow your heart and not to second guess its advice. But let’s just clarify one thing: this story is not an instruction manual for life. I don’t believe in such guides, and generally don’t think much of advisers or life coaches either. To me, they’re just like fat men trying to sell a diet. One-size fits all formulas? Such prescriptions don’t exist. Success is as individual as your finger - print, as every person has different talents. Everyone must search for and find their own path, and anyone who claims to possess infallible wisdom is about as trustworthy as a snake oil salesman. I would like to show that especially nowadays, in a world that is increasingly cold and profit-driven, you can achieve your goals with traditional values – with loyalty, friendship, family and hard work. The measure of success is not how many cars, houses, or boats you own. The size of your bank account? The rung you occupy on the corporate ladder? These questions are secondary. True success is inner-contentment and personal happiness, and everyone has to find this for themselves. I believe that anyone can be happy in any 20 job. I also would have been happy as a baker, dentist or postman. It comes down to your attitude and passion. There aren’t any clear-cut instructions for success, and anyone who is looking for instructions from someone else should ask themselves why this is the case. After all, you are the best person to judge what is right, to determine what moves you, what drives you. We created a global company with just under three thousand employees and annual revenues of several million dollars from the basement office of our house. In between there were episodes where the story could have turned out completely differently. I also want to tell you what it’s like when customers don’t even want to accept your products as gifts. What it’s like when your new product line is a total dud. And how to cope with the doubts and fears that may haunt you every day. “Defeat makes you strong,” was something that my Grandpa used to say, and that really stuck with me. I often remember his example: he was very successful with his company, but lost it all due to the wrong friends, legal disputes and bad luck. However, I also had to learn to apply just the right amount of effort when opportunities materialized. I have three responses for anyone who asks me what’s important and fundamental in business and in life: Dedication. Optimism. And an honest goal. It was always obvious to me that I would become an entrepreneur. I’m an entrepreneur because there’s nothing else I can really do. Seriously, set me any task – let’s say the organization of an event where we’re going to present our furniture. I would probably be out of my depth. Of course it would probably work out some- how, and we’d have a lot of fun, but it would be pretty hectic and chaotic as I’m impatient. I can’t concentrate on one thing for too long. Sometimes, when I am on the road during rush hour, and I see people sitting in a traffic jam, I think: How on earth do they do it? The patience! The stoicism! The dry routine! I couldn’t do it.