Episode 4: He was despised and rejected of men

In just a few months, the new leadership team at the helm of the Nationalmannschaft had demonstrated their extensive power and determination to change things. 

This unprecedented risk-taking in a highly risk-adverse environment was too much to bear for some stakeholders. 

On the one hand, the federation's bosses felt both dispossessed of their prerogatives and discredited: ‘Was everything we did in the past wrong?’ lamented DFB vice-president Theo Zwanziger. 

The first opportunity to put Klinsmann in his place came up when he sought to perpetuate his new system by proposing Bernhard Peters for the position of ‘sporting director’ responsible for the strategy of all youth teams, training of coaches, guaranteeing the coherence of the famous ‘playing philosophy’ that was to be implemented. This candidate had all the necessary skills, but he had earned his pedigree in field hockey, which was deemed unacceptable by the football community. He was rejected at a crisis summit and replaced by Matthias Sammer, considered more rooted in the the federation’s traditions. Klinsmann declined to attend the press conference, but avoided the whole question turning into a showdown. 

On the other hand, it was the popular daily newspaper BILD that had the most to lose: under Klinsmann, it no longer had privileged access to players and insider information, and its ‘moles’ were sidelined, including Kaiser Franz, who had always known how to remain in the good graces of this powerful tabloid by providing it with exclusives. It was the 4-1 defeat in Italy on 1 March 2006, discussed in the first episode in this series, that provided BILD with a golden opportunity. 

The ensuing attacks on Klinsmann were unusually vehement. He was criticised for continuing to divide his time between his family in California and his job in Germany, for turning his back on ‘German virtues’ by asking his players to apply a style of play they were not used to, for refusing advice from anybody, for being unacceptably brutal with poor Oliver Kahn, and even for smiling too much (apparently, German coaches are expected to display grief and sorrow). Illustrious former players such as the inevitable Lothar Matthäus, the always angry Uli Hoeneß, as well as the eternal has-beens Paul Breitner, Mario Basler, and Rudi Assauer were eagerly quoted, expressing their anger at the coach's ‘stubborn’, ‘selfish’ or ‘ill-mannered’ character. 

They all had, however, to admit that, with only three months to go before the World Cup kick-off, it was too late to get rid of Klinsmann and reverse the massive changes he had initiated. Nor were they able to elicit any criticism from within the team, which was clearly convinced of the merits of the new approaches and practices. At most, the choir of the critics was already preparing the ground for the post-tournament period: after the inevitable failure of the ‘Klinsmann project’, the ‘we told you so’ comments would rain down. 

Of course, they all changed their tune in July, begging Klinsmann to stay on. 

Next episode: Why do the nations so furiously rage together?.