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I congratulate my club on its anniversary. On Thursday, Bayern Munich will be 125 years old. The club was in my cradle, because my grandfather was and my father is a Bayern fan. When I was young, they told me a lot about the golden 70s with the three European Cup victories. They admired Gerd Müller, Sepp Maier and the other players. They were almost in awe of one of them: Franz Beckenbauer.
In the beginning, Bayern were one of many clubs. I have a few black-and-white pictures from the founding days in mind; I know the club history. But I can only really talk about it from the Beckenbauer era onwards, and since then Bayern have been something very special.
To this day, they are shaped by Beckenbauer’s legacy. If you understand him, you understand Bayern, the essence, the identity, the DNA. With his team, he created the slogan “mia san mia” back in the day. This is the special way in which Bayern have been conquering title after title for what seems like an eternity. How do I explain “mia san mia” to my European readers? Well, it’s a playful but enormous and somehow regionally rooted self-confidence. Nobody can harm us!
You’re in Munich and you win. Every generation of players internalises this. In Germany, Bayern always come out on top because they are better than the rest. Now, for a change, Bayer Leverkusen are real contenders. At other times, Dortmund, Werder Bremen, Hamburg or Borussia Mönchengladbach have been ahead. But no one can keep pace in the long run. There is no other major league with such a monopoly.
The secret: Bayern are a players’ club. For almost 50 years, they have been run by their former footballers, which is probably unique in Europe. Until his death one year ago, Beckenbauer was part of a troika alongside Uli Hoeness and Karl-Heinz Rummenigge.
When I was still active, the rule was: the three of them know what’s going on in the team, with the coach and with each player. This intrinsic expertise is the key to success. As a player, you listen very carefully to these football greats. When Franz addressed the team, it had a certain authority.
When you thought about it, what he said also had a certain depth. “Go out and play football!” (“Geht’s raus und spielt’s Fussball!”), Beckenbauer’s motto with which he led Germany to the 1990 World Cup title, is smiled at by some. They overlook the fact that it is based on a philosophy. When a team of outstanding players grow together and achieve a certain level of excellence, you can leave them to their own devices. They understand each other implicitly and are able to think three moves ahead together. That’s flow!
Many of those who wore the red jersey like Beckenbauer understood each other implicitly. They had outstanding abilities: the goalscoring instinct of Gerd Müller, the dynamism of Lothar Matthäus, the ability to play and shoot with either foot of Andreas Brehme, the self-confidence of Stefan Effenberg, the ingenuity of Thomas Müller, the brilliant saves of Manuel Neuer, the passion of Bastian Schweinsteiger or the dribbling of Rummenigge and Jamal Musiala. I would have particularly liked to have been on the pitch with Beckenbauer, who, with his elegant technique and role as a playmaker in defence, was very far ahead of his time. He made his teammates better.
The working-class kid from Giesing became the world-class footballer from Munich. He grew up with his hometown – and it grew up with him. When he was born, it was in ruins; by the time he was playing professionally, Munich had become the world city with a heart (Weltstadt mit Herz). Here, where you can see the peaks of the Alps, you can enjoy life. I often hear the question of what the city owes to Bayern. You can also turn it around, because successful football is particularly possible in a place where the people and the economy are doing well.
It is no coincidence that Bayern’s rise to a global brand coincided with the 1970s. The Olympic Games played no small role in this. They accelerated the construction of the subway, and Otl Aicher’s modern design has left its mark to this day. When Germany considers the 2040 Olympics, the lasting impact of 1972 in Munich would be a good argument for a bid.
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I was born and raised in Munich, and my childhood home and favourite football pitch are within walking distance of the Olympiastadion. I love my city. Like the Marienplatz and the Oktoberfest, Bayern are part of it. When I was 11, they scouted me for the first time. At first I didn’t want to go, I wanted to continue playing with my friends at my home club, FT Gern. So Bayern came up with an idea. Although it was officially reserved for FCB’s young talent, I was allowed to be a ball boy. That’s how I got to know my future teammates.
In the end, I joined the club. I’ve spent more than half my life with Bayern since then. In 2013, we won the Champions League at Wembley. Like the team of the 70s, our team contained quite a few true Bavarians. That made us extra strong.
Parallels between Franz and me seem obvious to some: born and raised in Munich, later player and captain of Bayern and Germany, national and international titles with both teams. It’s a shame he was never my coach. He would have said to me: ‘Go out and play football, Philipp!’ That would have been a good fit between us.
Sometimes I’m asked if I compare myself to him. It’s meant kindly. However, I agree with Hoeness, the great man behind the success of Bayern. At Beckenbauer’s funeral, he said: “There will never be a greater.” Under him, our club shone the brightest. So I would say: you don’t compare yourself to Franz Beckenbauer.
Philipp Lahm’s column was produced in partnership with Oliver Fritsch at Zeit Online, the German online magazine.
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