“However, I also warned all coaches who showed interest in him in advance. He’s a talent, but you’ll have a hard time with him,” added Škorpil.
“Yeah, I was a bohemian. And there is a lot of truth in the words of Mr. Škorpil,” admits Frýda in the next episode of “Kopaček na hříbík”, to get away with the first of the misfortunes that framed his career.
“I was nineteen when Sparta lured me to Letná and Slavia to Eden. Mr. Ježek arrived first and offered me a transfer to Sparta. But I didn’t want to go to Prague, I was happy in Hradec, and that’s why I asked for such a sum for the transfer that the Spartans got wet and wanted at least five minutes to think about it. In five minutes, they said yes, that they would give me the money. And for that time, it was good money,” Milan Frýda described his first transfer anabasis at the microphone of Sportu.cz.
Photo: archive of the author (Zdeněk Pavlis), Sport.cz
Milan Frýda in the black and white jersey of Hradec Králové, which he exchanged for the Slavia jersey when he was 19.
“Mr. Ježek didn’t stay in Sparta because he got an offer from Zurich, but I still signed the transfer tickets. I chose an apartment in Prague, I went to see Sparta, but then Slavia got involved and I ended up in Eden. Even with signed transfer tickets. I had a clique that at Letná, a little man had an argument with Sparta and took the tickets with my signature to Slavia. That’s why I didn’t get any patch for two subscriptions, and I could play in Eden immediately.”
In Slavia, he quickly got into the starting line-up, wearing the red and white jersey for a year and a half, before another misfortune came. From one day to the next, Frýda interrupted his industrial studies and fled from Eden to Cheb for the war.
“But that was because Slavia stopped sending me salaries, I had a family and we had to live on something. I went to the then director of the patronage IPS Komárek, but still nothing happened. And so I stopped going to training and naively thought that I would win this fight with Slavia. Of course I didn’t win it because I broke the contract. Slavia demanded a year’s distance for me, so in the end I was saved by the war and the chief of Red Star Zdeněk Beneš. Even so, I was banned for seven league matches and I didn’t start playing for Cheb in the league until sometime in October,” explains Milan Frýda, explaining how he disappeared from Slavia, only to reconcile with them after two years and return to Eden.
“Even in the army, however, I was accompanied by troubles. That’s when I removed the badge with a lion from the national team jersey and scratched potatoes in it. Comrade Milouš Kvaček, the coach of the 21st team, came to the inspection at that time and made a big fuss out of it. I also sat in the bass a few times, I also finished early in Cheb. We played at Bohemka, they kicked me there, I couldn’t hold back and got a red card for talking. But the chiefs thought that I let myself be excluded on purpose, because in the next round we played Slavia, where I was supposed to return after the military service. That’s why I was transferred to Aš to the border guards, so that sergeant Frýda could also enjoy the war. No pleasure, because at that time there was a lot of shooting at the borders at people who wanted to cross the line. But I refused.”
However, Milan Frýda told a lot of other stories and experiences from his football career in Kopačky na hříbík.
Did you know, for example, that he was the one who packed Kubík and Knoflíč’s bags when they left the Slavia team at the training camp in Hannover, Germany in the eighty-eighth year and decided to go to the West?
Photo: archive of the author (Zdeněk Pavlis), Sport.cz
Milan Frýda in the Swiss Lausanne-Sport jersey
“If I had decided to take the crap with them then, I don’t know what would have happened. It would be a disaster like thunder. After all, I was at the training camp with Slavia as a soldier. I don’t know how Zdeněk Beneš arranged it back then, but I ended up going there. And without the approval of the Minister of National Defense.”
At the microphone, Milan Frýda of course also talked about his beginnings on the boards, as well as about his engagement in Lausanne, Switzerland, where Vlastimil Petržela directed him with his hard preparation.
“His doses were unbearable. And training four or five times a day was not for me either. I told him that and he said that he was counting on it and that I would find something else. Luck smiled on me because a Swiss journalist saw me playing in a derby and arranged for me to work in his homeland.”
But Frýda also talked about the coaches he was lucky to have during his football career, about his youth years, during which he passed all the national team selections.
“I only played once for the national team. And it’s only half time. At the same time, I kicked a lot of matches for league selections, traveled around the world with them, played in tournaments for the Royal Cup. But all these were only unofficial representative starts. It was and still is. The words of Sparta’s secretary probably came true when I preferred Slavia when I was nineteen. That’s when he escorted me out of Letná with the words: ‘You’ll never play a child again in your life.’ And he was actually right. Not only didn’t I play, but I didn’t actually win anything.”
Photo: Zdeněk Pavlis, Sport.cz
Milan Frýda in the microphone of Sportu.cz
And how does the miraculous Králové Hradec talent and bohemian Milan Frýda live after his career? What does he do and what does he do for a living? And does he still wear football boots at least occasionally? What about a career? Would he do the years he spent on football pitches again?
“That would be great. I would go immediately, but under the condition that football would be played, as we used to play, and they would take money for it, which is taken today. And that we could go out for a beer or a shot of wine and no one would mind. It wasn’t a science for us,” laughed Milan Frýda in Kopačky na hřebík, which you should definitely listen to. His narration is definitely worth it.
Ancient and quite recent history in the narrative of football figures.
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Ah, football! The beautiful game that can turn even the most mundane of transfers into a gripping saga. Take Milan Frýda, for instance—a man whose career is punctuated not only by his talent but by a penchant for mischief that would make a Tom and Jerry episode look like a boring afternoon tea party.
Let’s dive right into what Škorpil had to say about him. “He’s a talent, but you’ll have a hard time with him.” Aren’t those the words every football coach dreams of hearing? It’s like saying, “I’m offering you a rare diamond, but it’s bound to explode on contact.” You see, with talent often comes a dash of mischief—or as Frýda himself put it, a “bohemian spirit.” And who knew “bohemian” was code for “good luck keeping him in line”? It’s very much like trying to herd cats, really—very cute, but ultimately, you’re just left with chaos.
Frýda’s career path reads like a map of questionable decisions. He had one foot in Hradec Králové and another dangling over a precipice into the chaos of Prague football. Think of it as a love triangle, but instead of two people, it’s two clubs, and instead of romance, it’s just good old-fashioned financial negotiations. His tactic of asking for an outrageous transfer fee—like a sandwich artist demanding a hundred bucks for a sub—worked because, lo and behold, the Spartans ultimately got wet—no, not in that way! Calm down, it means they were flustered! They agreed to meet his sum faster than kids running towards an ice cream truck.
And let’s chat about his escapades at Slavia. Frýda went from eager young talent to quitting training like a teenager refusing to do homework. Here’s the plot twist: he wasn’t even getting paid! I mean, how do you fight that fight and expect to win? That’s like challenging a bear to a dance-off—best of luck!
But the man wasn’t without his scrapes. He ended up in Cheb because of some drastic circumstances—presumably something that could have been avoided had someone just sent him a paycheck or two. Now, these aren’t just silly anecdotes; they reveal a guy who’s got more twists in his life than a pretzel in a Cirque du Soleil performance!
Oh, and the army stories—you just can’t make this stuff up! Scratching potatoes in a national team jersey? Now that’s a mental image. Who needs a dramatic war film when footballers are taking care of veggies on the front lines? And when the coach made a fuss, it was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. I like to imagine him saying, “Look, I might not be in wartime action, but can we at least focus on keeping this potato in one piece?”
Yet, the pièce de résistance is Frýda’s quote about wishing football was played like it used to be—without the science, no less! It’s almost poetic. Imagine Saturdays filled with lads downing pints and playing for the sheer joy of it; now that’s a scene that sounds more like a pub brawl than a professional sport.
In conclusion, Milan Frýda’s tale is one of unpredictability, comedy, and—dare I say—brilliance wrapped in a layer of chaos. Modern football may have left behind the charm of errant transfers and cheeky antics, but thankfully, players like Frýda remind us of the good old days when talent, trickery, and a pint or two defined what it meant to be a footballer. So, as Frýda himself would say, "If I had to do it all over again, bring it on—but only if we can have a drink after!" Cheers to that!
“I issued a cautionary notice to all coaches expressing interest in him right from the start. This young player possesses undeniable talent, but coaching him won’t be without its challenges,” remarked Škorpil, shedding light on the complexities surrounding the promising athlete.
“Certainly, I was a bit of a free spirit. There’s a significant degree of truth in Mr. Škorpil’s comments,” Milan Frýda confessed during a candid interview in the latest episode of “Kopačky na hříbík,” reflecting on the series of tribulations that have marked his football journey.
“At the age of nineteen, I was enticed by Sparta’s offer to join them at Letná. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Ježek approached me with a transfer proposal to Sparta. At that moment, however, I was happy in Hradec Králové, so I countered with such a hefty transfer fee that it momentarily stunned the Spartans. They took a mere five minutes to deliberate before agreeing to my terms. And in those days, it indeed represented a substantial sum,” Milan Frýda recounted his early transfer saga during an interview with Sportu.cz.
“Mr. Ježek departed from Sparta, having secured an offer from Zurich, but I still went ahead and signed the transfer papers. Though I chose an apartment in Prague and visited Sparta, Slavia intervened and, despite the signed transfer papers, I found myself at Eden instead. I later discovered that a conflict had arisen between a minor party and Sparta, which led to my transition to Slavia, hence the delay in my debut,” he explained about his unexpected switch.
Milan quickly acclimated to his new environment at Slavia, securing a spot in the starting line-up and donning the club’s iconic red and white jersey for a year and a half. However, another unforeseen predicament emerged when he abruptly abandoned his industrial studies to join Red Star Cheb amidst the turmoil.
“The reason for my departure was Slavia’s abrupt cessation of salary payments, leaving me with a family to support. I approached the then-director of the patronage, Mr. Komárek, in vain. Frustrated, I stopped attending training, mistakenly believing I could triumph in this standoff with Slavia. However, I eventually learned the hard way that I was in breach of contract. Slavia enforced a one-year suspension as a consequence, but fortune shone on me through the war and Zdeněk Beneš, the chief of Red Star. Even so, I faced a seven-match suspension, and my league debut for Cheb was delayed until late October,” Frýda elaborated on his departure from Slavia and the subsequent fallout.
“Even during military service, I was not spared from challenges. There was a moment when I removed the emblem featuring a lion from my national team jersey while peeling potatoes. A visit from Comrade Milouš Kvaček, the coach of the U21 team, stirred up considerable drama over this incident. I faced disciplinary issues and concluded my time in Cheb early as well. I received a red card while playing against Bohemka due to verbal dissent, with officials suspecting I had intentionally sought exclusion in anticipation of an upcoming match against Slavia, my supposed return venue post-service. Consequently, I was reassigned to Aš, serving the border guard during a period marked by tensions and gunfire along the borders. This was not an enjoyable experience, especially given the perilous circumstances surrounding unauthorized crossings,” he recalled, conveying the pressures he faced during those tumultuous times.
Milan Frýda did share many other intriguing tales and experiences from his football career during the Kopačky na hříbík podcast.
Did you know that he was the one tasked with packing the bags for Kubík and Knoflíč as they decided to defect from the Slavia team during a training camp in Hannover, Germany, back in 1988?
“Had I chosen to accompany them at that time, the fallout would have been catastrophic. I was present alongside Slavia at the training camp, fulfilling my military obligations. I’m not quite sure how Zdeněk Beneš orchestrated it, but I ended up there without gaining the necessary permissions from the Minister of National Defense,” he described, reflecting on a pivotal moment that could have altered his life significantly.
During the interview, Milan also elaborated on the demanding training regimens he faced under the direction of Vlastimil Petržela in Lausanne, Switzerland, where he was pushed to the limits.
“The intensity of his training sessions was almost unbearable. Participating in four to five training sessions daily was overwhelming. When I expressed my concerns, he coldly acknowledged it and implied that I ought to seek other opportunities. Fortunately, a Swiss journalist who witnessed my performance during a derby took the initiative to help me establish my career overseas,” he stated, highlighting a stroke of luck in his professional pathway.
Milan shared fond memories of the coaches who played pivotal roles throughout his career, along with tales from his formative years that saw him participate in various national team selections.
“Although I represented the national team only once, it was merely for a half-time appearance. I played numerous matches with the league selections and traveled globally for tournaments, yet all those were unofficial caps. The words uttered by the secretary of Sparta proved prophetic after I chose Slavia at the age of nineteen. He walked me to the exit of Letná, declaring, ‘You’ll never don your national team’s colors again.’ It turned out he was indeed right. I not only missed that chance but also failed to secure any significant achievements throughout my career,” he reflected on his journey.
And how does this once-promising talent and free spirit, Milan Frýda, lead his life post-football? What occupies his time now, and does he still lace up his football boots every now and then? Revisiting his career, would he relive those years spent on the pitch?
“Absolutely! I would dive right back in, but only under the condition that we played football the way we used to, with financial remuneration akin to today’s standards, and that we could enjoy a beer or a glass of wine without a second thought. It was never meant to be a science for us,” Milan Frýda joyfully reminisced during the engaging podcast episode, making it clear his narratives are not only entertaining but worth listening to in their entirety.
A vivid recounting of history, both ancient and contemporary, seen through the lens of a seasoned football figure.
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Ared insights about the coaches who influenced his development as a player, as well as his joyous years participating in national team selections. Despite his efforts, he only made one official appearance for the national team, which was just a half-time substitution. He reflected on the numerous unofficial representations he had been a part of, indicating a life filled with near-misses and unfulfilled potential.
Among the anecdotes from his career, Milan Frýda’s humorous recollection of his early days in football stands out. He recounts how a secretary from Sparta once ominously predicted, “You’ll never play for a top club again in your life,” as he moved to Slavia instead. This prophetic remark turned out to be quite accurate as his budding career was riddled with obstacles and challenges.
Now, Milan finds joy reflecting on the past, sharing entertaining stories and experiences that bring a sense of nostalgia to the once vibrant football scene. He expresses a desire for the return of a simpler footballing era, highlighting the camaraderie and enjoyment associated with the game in his youth.
As for his current life after football, Milan continues to embrace the values and friendships forged during his playing days while adapting to a new sense of fulfillment away from the pitch. His humor and exuberant spirit remind us that the essence of football lies not just in the accolades but in the shared laughter and camaraderie it brings.
Listen to ”Kopačky na hřebík” to catch more captivating stories and insights from Milan Frýda—truly a fascinating glimpse into the colorful tapestry of football history!
Milan Frýda’s football career is a tapestry woven with talent, mischief, and a dash of chaos, making his journey through the sport both captivating and relatable. It began with youthful promise in his hometown of Hradec Králové, leading to a pivotal moment when he caught the attention of Sparta Prague. Instead of jumping at their offer, he boldly countered with a hefty transfer fee that left the Spartans momentarily stunned—resulting in his swift move to Slavia Prague.
However, Frýda’s time at Slavia was fraught with challenges. Discontent over unpaid wages led him to voluntarily stop attending training, which he naively thought would empower him in his standoff with the club. The breach of his contract resulted in a year-long suspension from playing, during which he faced the daunting realities of military service. His tales from this period reveal a mix of humor and hardship—most notably, an incident involving peeling potatoes in a national team jersey that caught the ire of his coach.
Frýda’s antics didn’t end there. His connections and choices often placed him at the crux of conflicts, including packing the bags for teammates who defected to the West during a training camp. His military experience often felt more perilous than a football match, particularly his reassignment to the border guards during a time of heightened tensions.
Even after transitioning to clubs like Red Star Cheb and later Lausanne-Sport, where he endured grueling training under Vlastimil Petržela, his penchant for mischief continued—a reminder that great talent often comes with its own set of challenges. Despite the trials, Frýda reminisces about his football days fondly, wishing for a return to a time when the game was played for the sheer joy of it, punctuated with shared pints after matches.
In reflecting on his career, he acknowledges the prophetic words of Sparta’s secretary, who predicted a lack of future opportunities with the national team following his choice to join Slavia. Today, as a retired player, Frýda’s stories serve as rich narratives that offer insight into the life of a footballer navigating the complexities of passion, pitfalls, and perseverance. His journey embodies the spirit of football as something not just to win at, but to enjoy, relish, and sometimes laugh at, even amidst the chaos.
