It was 6 p.m. in Singapore, but still lunchtime in Frankfurt, when Aki Watzke, Andreas Rettig and Rudi Völler put their heads together, trying to figure out who could finally save German football from international insignificance. After deliberating for hours, Watzke suddenly had an impulse.

“What about this guy in Asia?”

He recalled a recommendation he had received years earlier from Gerhard Mayer-Vorfelder after the latter had single-handedly completed a “Hero’s Wolfpack” in Singapore and, with blurry vision, had been impressed by GAS’ “Tiki-Taka” (or was it “Langholz”?) the following day.

The room at the DFB headquarters nodded silently. How had they not thought of this earlier?

The call was made.

On the other side of the world, the prospective candidate, Christian Frank, was, however, in the middle of his pre-match analysis, mainly going through old pictures of “Ipanema”, analysing the Brazilian mentality for weaknesses in, let’s say, a rather holistic approach. He answered the call politely but firmly, telling the DFB delegation that he had other priorities that day and asking them to call back after the game.

⸻

Meanwhile in Singapore, the GAS squad headed for the Malaysian border to face the Brazilians from the division above in the long-awaited cup final. Fourteen members of the 18-man roster were surprised to find that their excursion on a party bus into Singapore’s nightlife was actually preceded by a football match. Thankfully, they were still willing to sacrifice two hours of their Thursday evening.

Jokes apart, the team was fully aware that this was a game for the ages. A historic match lay ahead. Coach Frank didn’t even need to resort to grand rhetorical pathos in his pre-match speech. The team knew exactly what was at stake. If they succeeded today, seventy or eighty years later their portraits would still be hanging in the Swiss Club, and a Robin Williams-esque teacher would show the team photo to young Swiss and German students, saying:

“Can you hear them whispering? Carpe diem—seize the day! Be something special in your lives.”

Chris Frank presented his plan. Mohan would be the usual rock in goal. The back four consisted of Croeger, Kothen, Meurers and Baesell, backed up by Oliver and Marius. The holding midfielders structuring the GAS game would be Schegg, Schmidt and Loeffelhardt, providing speedy wingers Gassner, Almeroth, Khan and Hesmer with perfectly weighted passes. Hennies and Merkel shared the Messi role, while Sander and Schwarz were responsible for clinical finishing up front.

The players realised that this squad had both depth and quality, and GAS showed exactly that from the very first minute.

No class difference was visible. Quite the contrary: GAS controlled the game entirely from the start. The first promising attacks came, although the final pass or finish was still missing.

That changed in the 11th minute.

GAS played cleanly out from the back. Sander found Almeroth on the right, who squared the ball to Hesmer inside the six-yard box.

A calm and composed finish.

1–0 GAS.

After the first water break both teams largely neutralised each other, with few clear-cut chances on either side. However, a remarkable number of 50-50 decisions went in favour of the Brazilians, causing a sudden outburst from Phil “Rohrspatz” Goergen.

The red card was the logical consequence, forcing him 7.5 metres behind the fence, where he had to raise his voice by approximately 2.5 decibels in order to continue assisting the referee with his decision-making for the remainder of the game.

Half-time.

A thoroughly deserved lead for the German Allstars.

After the break, the game became wilder. More fouls followed on both sides, a clear penalty was not awarded at either end, and Meurers had a goal disallowed after pushing his opponent just slightly too much before heading home what would have been the second goal.

That goal arrived five minutes later anyway.

The Brazilians cleared a corner, but Meurers delicately chipped the loose ball with his left foot over the goalkeeper and into the far corner.

Grandparents will still be telling their grandchildren about this stroke of genius by “Birkenstock Messi” decades from now.

The Germans had everything under control, but the Brazilians slowly lost their temper. More fouls followed before GAS unfortunately lost a midfield block tackle, allowing the Brazilians to pull one back with an 18-metre strike almost completely out of nowhere.

Only four minutes remained.

Two minutes later, Gassner made a perfectly clean tackle before immediately being attacked by his Brazilian opponent. This sparked a mass confrontation and the referee, perhaps a little too hastily, decided to abandon the match.

He may also have already been late for his anger-management seminar in Johor Bahru, judging by the colourful language he directed towards both teams after blowing the final whistle.

To their credit, however, the Brazilians proved to be true sportsmen. Realising that 88 minutes had been played, GAS were leading 2–1, and that they themselves had caused the final confrontation, they conceded the trophy to the German Allstars.

Players celebrated, hugged, called their families and eagerly boarded the party bus.

Unfortunately, Coach Frank took the Bluetooth speaker into his own car.

Consequently, the team had to endure “Kuschelrock 17” from the local bus driver, turning the journey back into something resembling a pilgrimage of Philippine nuns from the Cebu monastery—only with slightly less singing.

⸻

Meanwhile, the coach enjoyed the victory in his private car, listening to Mallorca party music all by himself.

The Kaiser walked the pitch in Rome alone.

Frank celebrated to Mia Julia.

Each to their own.

Suddenly, a +49 69 phone number flashed on the display. He turned the music down.

It was once again the boys from Otto-Fleck-Schneise.

“Have you made your decision, Christian?”

He took a deep breath.

“I was on a mission to deliver this long-awaited trophy to my predecessor Urs Brutsch. I have fulfilled that mission. There is nothing left for me here to accomplish.”

Rettig quietly noted down his final conditions:

•⁠ ⁠“Red carpet at Fraport.”
•⁠ ⁠“What tailored suits are for Guardiola, Adilettes are for me. I have to stay true to myself.”
•⁠ ⁠“Zaira and my entourage must be present at future World Cups. I know there was a little issue in that regard this time, but take it or leave it.”

The German Football Association did not hesitate.

“Mr Frank, consider it done. The plane is already on its way.”

⸻

Back at Sahara, the title celebrations were finally in full swing.

The game was still being analysed, but with the help of beer and Slimowize, the team slowly came to terms with what they had achieved.

The music was turned up.

All brakes were off.

Der Zug hatte definitiv keine Bremsen mehr.

As there was neither a double-decker bus nor a City Hall balcony nearby, the celebrations simply continued from bar to bar before the remaining survivors eventually ended up at Pimenco/Chimjes, which stayed open until 6 a.m.

Unfortunately, one of those survivors was also the coach himself who, after an exhausting day and completely against his usual nature of staying awake all night like a Duracell bunny, finally fell asleep at a table in Pimenco, impossible to wake.

⸻

As soon as Rudi Völler stepped off the aircraft and felt Singapore’s humidity, he realised even more what the local German team had achieved against all odds.

In the early hours at Changi Airport, standing at Wind Nordost, Starbahn 03, he dialled the number of the Messiah from Schwerin.

But Christian Frank hörte weder die Motoren, noch dröhnte es in seinen Ohren.

Völler called again and again but, bewildered, eventually had to report back to Frankfurt that Frank simply would not answer.

The DFB therefore moved on to Plan B.

Their alternative candidate happened to be on an incentive trip in Budapest with his DVAG employer.

The man nodded, grinned through all 68 of his teeth, boarded the next plane to Frankfurt and immediately entered negotiations.

Thankfully for the local community, this means while Germany’s footballing future remains uncertain, the German Allstars are looking ahead to a very bright future.

After all, the cup is only the beginning…