It was a resemblance to Kaiser Ludwig II of Bavaria that first gave Franz Beckenbauer his nickname. An unfortunate juxtaposition with a bust of Emperor Franz-Josef after a friendly international in Vienna helped, too. Yet by the time he retired, regal doppelgangers had been long forgotten. There was only one Kaiser Franz and that title and reputation rested on his talent alone.
Football historians still debate whether Beckenbauer invented the modern position of sweeper — there were certainly antecedents in an attacking sense, not least Ernst Ocwirk of the great Austria side — but what is undeniable is that he made the position uniquely his own.
Beckenbauer, more than any player before and quite possibly since, was both the last line of defence and first line of attack. That his greatness coincided with a high point for English international football means he is also inextricably linked with the fortunes of this nation, perhaps more than any other footballer not from these shores.
Pelé never played at Wembley; Diego Maradona did not return after mesmerising there in a friendly at the age of 19; but Beckenbauer lost the 1966 World Cup final beneath the twin towers as a 20-year-old and then spent the rest of his career extracting revenge.
His German team eliminated England from the 1970 World Cup, ran rings around us in the 1972 European Championships, and then conquered Poland — who had eliminated England in the qualifiers — on the way to their 1974 World Cup victory. That was the first leg of Beckenbauer’s World Cup treble. He won the World Cup as a player and captain, then as Germany’s manager in 1990, and finally as a politician, when he helped claim the hosting rights for the tournament in 2006. Only the last of those achievements has lately lost its shine.
Beckenbauer the player, in particular, remains unsurpassed. He is the only defender to win the Ballon D’Or twice, in 1972 and 1976, finishing runner-up on two further occasions and third in 1966. That was the year Helmut Schön, the German coach, decided to sacrifice his creative talents in the World Cup final, detailing him instead to man-mark Bobby Charlton.
It was a rare aberration, and negated by Sir Alf Ramsey instructing Charlton to mark Beckenbauer, who had already scored four goals in the tournament and would be voted its best young player, ahead of Alan Ball.
• Franz Beckenbauer obituary: German World Cup winner dies aged 78
For the decade after, however, English players would be devoting their best efforts to chasing Beckenbauer everywhere he went. For fans of a certain age, his name remains the shorthand for any defender who attempts bringing the ball out from the back. When Ron Atkinson joined in games in training, he would provide a mockingly self-aggrandising commentary on his own performance. He was always “Beckenbauer” when on the ball. Describing Dave Bassett in his early days as a player-coach at Wimbledon, Wally Downes told me: “As coach he could play himself anywhere, and he fancied being libero [a sweeper], like Beckenbauer. Two block tackles and a headbutt later, he’d make it to the edge of his own penalty area. . . ”
It’s a delightful image, the leaden-footed wannabes trying to emulate the skills of the master. The reality is, even the greatest of them couldn’t come close. Beckenbauer could, quite literally, have played anywhere his coach demanded.
Bayern Munich first identified him as a promising centre forward, prodigious enough to have scored more than 100 goals in a single season as a schoolboy. He represented their youth teams in that role but was playing left wing when he made his debut in 1964.
He was still a creative midfielder when he was told to follow Charlton, but by the time the next World Cup came around he had reinvented — some would say invented — himself as an attacking sweeper, Germany’s defensive saviour, and playmaker.
It was a quite brilliant concept. Beckenbauer’s reading of the game made him an outstanding defender, while hiding at the back allowed him the space to start masterful counterattacking moves. His distance from the forward players did not matter. Beckenbauer had the intelligence and passing range to pick out a colleague running into space — not least his club and country team-mate Gerd Müller — or to start a move by playing raking balls to the wings.
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His ability to find Günter Netzer helped destroy England in the European Championships and, when the opportunity invited, Beckenbauer would summon his powers as a midfielder and break through the middle on his own. He had quick feet, quick thought, and gave quick passes. He was the most Brazilian German footballer there has ever been.
The idea that playing sweeper allowed him to be idle was exploded by Schön’s predecessor as Germany coach, Sepp Herberger. “So many players are like clockwork toys,” he sneered. “They run themselves silly and then stop. Franz is so smart, intelligent and mature he could play until he is 40.”
He didn’t, of course. He retired from international and major European football at 31 — one World Cup, one European Championship, three European Cups, four Bundesliga titles, four German Cups, the European Cup Winners’ Cup and an Intercontinental Cup — with a move to New York Cosmos but, by that time, had completely redefined what a defender could be. Even now, with Pep Guardiola’s inverted full backs, we are watching updates of what Beckenbauer imagined for the role.
That he should then distinguish himself as a coach should hardly have been unexpected. At the 1974 World Cup his qualities as a leader had already been tested when his team-mates threatened to strike on finding out they were being paid less than the players of Holland and Italy.
Beckenbauer talked them down from that ledge, then came to Schön’s rescue when the coach suffered a personal crisis after a group defeat to East Germany. Beckenbauer spoke at the next press conference, made the logistical arrangements for the next game and shared management duties until Schön had regained confidence. It was no surprise, then, that 16 years later he would expertly marshal a German team to overcome Maradona’s Argentina.
“The best footballer in German history,” the national team’s present head coach, Julian Nagelsmann, said. “His interpretation of the role of the libero changed the game, this and his friendship with the ball made him a free man. Franz Beckenbauer was able to float on the lawn; as a footballer and later also as a coach he was sublime, he stood above things. When Franz Beckenbauer entered a room, the room lit up.”
Indeed. He follows Charlton, leaving this earth only three months later; two greats of the game, still marking each other into eternity.
