Bye-bye, Thommy Gottschalk rocks into retirement - and flees from the middle of his show

Marked, but smiling bravely: Thomas Gottschalk bids farewell to the TV stage. An exit that was as human as it was consistent. And it showed why Gottschalk remained a born showman to the end.

Actually, it's almost the same as always: Saturday evening, 8.15 pm, the lights go on, music plays and Thomas Gottschalk stands on stage and broadcasts his beaming smile into the nation's living rooms.

Only this time, many things are different. No "Wetten, dass...?", no ZDF gold dust - but RTL, Jauch, Schöneberger and an entertainer who knows that this evening is more than just entertainment: it is his farewell.

Gottschalk himself also seems changed. The former fast-talker and prankster in the gold lamé is keeping a low profile, leaving the talking to Jauch, Schöneberger or guests such as Giovanni Zarrella, Mike Krüger and Jörg Pilawa. Only the occasional witty remark pops up. Most of the time, however, Thommy smiles quietly to himself - absent-mindedly, restlessly, a little fragile.

Gottschalk talks as if he wants to stay in control

What a difference: in the past, every Gottschalk evening was a festival of snappy banter, charming chaos and insinuating repartee. Today, he stands there as the image of an announced and long overdue farewell.

The tone and tempo have changed since his cancer diagnosis. The blond show wonder of old has remained - but has become quieter, more thoughtful, more frail.

In an interview with Günther Jauch, Gottschalk talks openly about his illness, operations, radiotherapy and after-effects. He talks quickly, almost rehearsed, as if he wants to stay in control.

He hardly shows any emotion, instead that old professional smile that has been familiar for decades. "I have brain fog," he says, "that's why I sometimes talk stupidly." Then he grins briefly and adds: "Although - I used to do that too, but it was planned."

Gottschalk remains a showman. Right to the end, through and through.

A gentle criticism of social media

RTL pre-produced the show. No live pressure, no breakdown, no risk. A quiet concession after two unsuccessful appearances in recent weeks: At the Bambi, where he seemed unsteady, and a little later at the Romy Gala, where his voice trembled.

At the time, the audience didn't know what was going on. Today they know - and understand why.

The malice on social media - it affected him. "It wasn't helpful," says Gottschalk, criticizing the digital bashing with unusual seriousness. He was all the more touched by the wave of encouraging messages. "Thank you very much, that meant a lot to me," he says - simply, honestly, without pathos.

It was also thanks to these voices that Gottschalk wanted to appear once again. Despite the headlines, despite illness. Not out of a sense of duty, but because it is - and always has been - the way he sees himself: Thomas Gottschalk is the one on stage. In front of people, with a smile.

Never perfect - but always confident

In fact, his career was not a pure fairy tale, but rather a wild TV labyrinth - from radio man to crowd-puller, from "Na sowas!" to "Wetten, dass...?".

Gottschalk brought pop culture into the living room, made Michael Jackson wait, flirted with Cher and made Helene Fischer blush.

He was never perfect, never smooth, never prepared enough, but always there. A presenter who took the word show seriously - and never overestimated Master.

When Gottschalk and his wife Karina made it public that he was suffering from angiosarcoma, the façade fell. But instead of retreating, he sent a video message: "Don't worry. I'm taking a positive approach to things."

It is no secret that the illness changed him over the last few months. This is also noticeable in his farewell show. But Gottschalk prefers to be nervous on stage rather than composed at home.

"I have no regrets. I've always given my all for good entertainment and would do everything exactly the same again," he tells Jauch - without melancholy, but emphatically. He does not allow any sentimentality to arise. Instead, he tells it straight: "The brain fog gets worse in the evening" - a sentence that explains what was to follow later.

Rocking into retirement with Status Quo

Then there's just that for the shining light of the Saturday TV bonfire - a real TV bonfire. "Supernase" partner Mike Krüger picks up the guitar, and "Mein Gott, Walter" becomes "Mein Gott, Thomas". The audience goes wild, holding up signs with inscriptions such as "Thank you", "You are a legend" and "We will miss you".

Gottschalk laughs and throws a few more of his typical lines into the crowd. When Krüger forgets the lyrics in the middle of the song, he dryly counters: "Mike is the next to go."

Then it's suddenly over. Gottschalk climbs up the show stairs to "Rockin' All Over The World" by Status Quo, kisses his wife Karina and sings along to a few bars. Gold confetti rains down, he waves, laughs - and leaves. In the middle of the show, just like that. After 105 of 240 minutes on air. As if his body had decided that enough was enough.

It is a farewell without pathos, abrupt, a little unglamorous - but very Gottschalk. Because he had made it clear beforehand: he wants out of the limelight. "The time has come to leave it all behind me," he explained in an interview with Jauch. Kindly, but very firmly.

He has earned this peace and quiet more than any other TV presenter.

So in the end, all that remains is this: goodbye, Thommy - get well. And thank you for all the evenings when television was still real television.

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