A Football Fan's Guide To Munich

Germany
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Munich

John Duerden

As the Inter City Express glided smoothly south-east from Frankfurt past Stuttgart, the home of Daimler and then past Ulm, the home of Albert Einstein, the snow became thicker, as did the trees and the capital of Bavaria drew ever closer.

"Don't go to Munich," Sophia had said passionately in Frankfurt. "The people are so strait-laced and conservative and go to Catholic Church even with clean consciences. There is not even a strip club there."

At least part of her statement proved to be false (leading me to doubt that her claim that that she really did have sex with Ruud Van Nistlerooy – 'he was a bastard') as Munich followed in that time-honoured European tradition of shepherding visitors immediately into a central station surrounded by the red-light district that boasted a number of strip joints just a g-string's throw away.

However, football was on my mind as I headed into the city, one that seems to have everything – a rich football tradition, more history than you can shake a sausage at, beautiful buildings, impressive shopping, excellent beer and a Steven Spielberg film named after it. If that isn't enough, there are numerous lakes to head to in summer and the wonderful Alps nearby in winter.

It was considerably colder than Frankfurt meaning that only the bravest Bavarian would be donning their best lederhosen.

Many of the German stereotypes that we hold overseas stem from the southern state and its biggest city. Those leather shorts, huge beer halls that sell huge beers and the oompah bands.

In the interests of research, it was my job to check out one of those places and started with the Hofbrauhaus – the self-proclaimed 'most famous pub in the world'.

This huge Munich institution has been around forever and is apparently where Hitler used to meet the gang in the early days and despite being teetotal, few could blame the future dictator for succumbing to a litre of the fine beer on offer.

On a freezing night in January, there were few tourists around and the locals were friendly. The full hall was a sight to savour with its traditional band playing away merrily, though I didn't think 10cc's 'I'm not in love' was traditional Bavarian folk music. Still, it went down well enough, as did the beer, sausages and surprisingly, the sauerkraut.

I shared mine with a middle-aged computer engineer who went by the name of Voldir, a former resident of East Berlin who headed to Munich when the wall came down and fell in love with the place.

"It's great," he says between mouthfuls of beer. "There is so much to do. I tell my mum to come here from Berlin but she doesn't want to leave. I don't why, there's nothing there these days, it's much easier to make money here though housing is much more expensive."

He doesn't miss his hometown, "the old East Germany is still depressing. I go to visit but I never stay long. It's so grey and everybody is miserable – there are no jobs and the most interesting people have gone to the west.

However, he does miss Exeter, a place rather different than the old communist sector of the German capital.

"Exeter was great, I stayed three months to study English. Actually, I drove there in my trabant! I was quite famous there; people would stop me in the street and ask to look at the engine."

The Bayern supporter was shocked and genuinely apologetic after the staff called time at midnight and strictly told everyone to leave, bringing back memories of England – for Voldir too, who also found it hard to believe that Blackburn Rovers were sitting eighth in the Premier League.

Trying to find links between the four-time European champions and the Rovers is not easy and Mark Hughes was the only one who came to a mind after he spent a short loan spell with the German giants almost twenty years ago.

"No," dismissed Voldir with a wave of the hand, "Mattheus would never have played for Blackburn."

It was time to go but with Bayern and their rivals, 1860 Munich, wisely departing for warmer climes during the winter break, there was unfortunately no game to attend at the new Allianz Arena. The stadium has already become a football icon and demanded a visit. So on a freezing Sunday afternoon there was nothing for it but to catch the S-bahn at the central station for the 20-minute ride to the north of the city.

The design of the ground is well-known by now but the walk from the stadium took a while with ice as thick as Sven's wallet. The place is impressive, though why Audi chose to have a showroom on the second floor is uncertain; do potential customers want to take a 20 minute train ride to the middle of nowhere and then a ten-minute walk to buy a car? Perhaps they do, or maybe fans of 1860 or Bayern pick up cars at half-time rather than pies and pints.

Those with less money to spend can visit the separate club shops, though the one housing the red-shirted team looks bigger and certainly has more pictures of various domestic and continental triumphs lining the walls. Fans of neither team can go to the stadium's own place and get their fill of mugs, shirts and grass.

On the journey back to the central station, you have to change at Odeonsplatz where Hitler's 1923 Beer Hall Putsch was ended when he and his fledging Nazis were fired upon in the shadow of the Feldherrenhalle, a monument that escaped the Allied bombing. After a quick look, it was time to escape the cold.

After a morning of football, a smattering of history and a Sunday lunch of a huge shank of pork, tasty Bavarian dumplings and a delicious beer, it was hard to escape the conclusion that Munich is great. Next stop Nuremberg.

John Duerden

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