A pioneering centre-back and football’s best thinker

The Monty Python sketch Philosophers’ Football Match, first broadcast in 1972, pits two groups of history’s great thinkers against each other in a battle of wits. There are the Greeks – Aristotle, Epicurus, Diogenes – against the Germans, who, in addition to Hegel and Nietzsche, have a certain Franz Beckenbauer on their team.

It was clearly a joke, a comedy sketch that satirized the self-interest of television commentators, among others. Still, Beckenbauer’s inclusion in the lineup was significant. Because Der Kaiser, as he was known, had a reputation among footballers like no other, and certainly not among Englishmen, that spread far beyond the boundaries of the game. He was seen as a profound thinker, a tactical revolutionary, a modernizer; the first man to make it clear that the brain is the most important muscle available to any player. And with his death at the age of 78, the game has been robbed of the last of the generation of players who, when they rose to prominence when the game was televised around the world, changed the way we respond to football for the better: Pele , Maradona, Cruyff, Best, Charlton and now Beckenbauer are all gone. Although there is an argument that Der Kaiser was the most influential of them all.

For example, none of the others had the honor of winning the World Cup as both a player and a manager. He also won the Bundesliga on the field and in the dugout. That’s a club-and-country double that only Didier Deschamps can match. Furthermore, as CEO of the German Football Association, he played a crucial role in the behind-the-scenes business that led to the 2006 World Cup final being brought to his home country. A bit too crucial, as it turned out.

But above all, Beckenbauer personified the rebirth of his country’s football and helped transform it into the modern, innovative, creative football superpower of today.

He was born into the humblest of circumstances in the battered ruins of Munich in 1945. He joined Bayern as a junior in the early 1960s at a time when, as hard as it is now to believe, they were languishing in the second tier of the West -German class. football. Initially a midfielder, he subtly changed his game as he physically developed into a ball-playing centre-back. And as he did so, he seized the tactical initiative and set the playing agenda for his team: in many ways, he popularized the idea of ​​the footballing quarterback. The way he took the ball from the goalkeeper and then strode into midfield, his clever and convincing passing, may seem standard now, but at the time it was groundbreaking. Also successful. He not only led Bayern to promotion, but soon after to four consecutive Bundesliga titles, not to mention the three European Cups on the line.

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Tall, elegant, imbued with an indefinable hauteur, he had a confidence that was infectious. From the moment he made his international debut at the age of 20, scoring in a victory over Sweden in a 1966 World Cup qualifier, he seemed to have found his calling. In the 1966 final he was West Germany’s standout player, even when his team lost to the hosts. But four years later he took revenge. Initially, he and Bobby Charlton denied each other’s goal during their quarter-final meeting, causing each other to become a distraction. But he beat his English counterpart to score the goal that started Germany’s recovery from 2-0 deficit in the second half. In the semi-final of the tournament he showed he was more than just a football thinker by courageously refusing to come off the field after dislocating his shoulder, and struggling through extra time with his arm heavily strapped in a bid to Italy to be outsmarted in what happened long ago. was considered one of the best World Cup fights of all time. His failure to do so did not detract from his reputation around the world.

It wasn’t the end of his influence either. In 1972 he led West Germany to victory at the European Championship. Two years later, at the 1974 Home World Cup, he outsmarted his Dutch counterpart Johan Cruyff, the other great footballing mastermind of the time, to lift the trophy. It was a career he had the Mannschaft: He earned 103 caps for West Germany before retiring from international competition in 1977.

It was his stellar reputation that brought him to the United States in the twilight of his time on the field. Encouraged to think he could revolutionize American sports — not to mention the added bonus of a $1 million-a-year contract — he joined Pele at the New York Cosmos. In his debut, he played his usual game: sweeping, putting out fires and encouraging others. Steve Ross, the club’s chairman, was less than enthusiastic about what he saw. Midway through the half he summoned Gordon Bradley, the team’s England coach, to his box and demanded to know why the man he paid big money to was “lurking at the back of the team”. Bradley, like most Englishmen, was a man in awe of Beckenbauer’s talent. “It’s the way he plays,” he replied. “Nobody does it better.” Ross was not impressed: “We’re not paying a million dollars for that. Tell him to bring his ass forward.” Bradley dutifully obeyed and asked his superstar to play as a striker. Beckenbauer politely but firmly refused.

It was telling that while the English football establishment conceitedly – ​​and shamefully – sidelined their own urbane stylist Bobby Moore, the German hierarchy warmly – and rightly – embraced Beckenbauer. When he returned from his stay in the US in 1984, they saw him as the man who would rescue the national side from a period of relative trouble.

And they were right. He may not have had any coaching experience, he may not have earned any badges, but in a sense he had long set the strategic agenda throughout his playing career. He reorganized the team and laid down strict tactical guidelines. Under his clear leadership, West Germany reached the 1986 World Cup final, losing to Maradona-inspired Argentina in the final. But then, as he had done in 1970 after finishing second in ’66, he quickly took revenge and led his side to victory over Diego and the team in 1990. It was the last match before reunification, the last match as West Germany. How fitting that the country’s best sports ambassador was in charge.

There followed a brief spell as manager of Marseille in France (the fans revolted against him because, not speaking French, he insisted on holding press conferences in German) before Beckenbauer returned to Bayern and took the club to the Bundesliga in 1994 title and the UEFA Cup. two years later. He then served as president of Bayern and vice-president of the German Football Association.

And it was there that his determination to bring the 2006 World Cup to his home country took an unfortunate turn. The tournament itself was a triumph, even though the hosts were defeated in the semi-finals. But nine years later, as part of their investigation into widespread football sleaze, he was questioned by Swiss prosecutors in March 2017 about suspected corruption linked to the bid. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time he was associated with such dodgy affairs. In 2014, he was handed a 90-day ban from all football activities for failing to cooperate with an investigation into alleged misconduct in the 2018 and 2022 World Cup bids, when he was a member of the FIFA executive committee that handed out the awards . The reputation of being part of the FIFA rot that clung to him in his final years proved a tougher opponent to shake than even Cruyff or Charlton.

But in his death he should be best remembered as one of the smartest footballers of all time. Monty Python was unspeakably calm, relaxed and dignified on the pitch and he was right. He was football’s best thinker, a true philosopher of the game.