AT THE ALLIANZ ARENA COULD I, LADS? LADS...?!”
The dream had turned into a nightmare. This was a club who had played in the 1965 European Cup Winners’ Cup Final at Wembley, a contest that featured Bobby Moore, Martin Peters and Geoff Hurst. They had moved into an impressive new stadium. They had targeted the Champions League. And yet here they were, battling relegation and on course for a humiliating home defeat. As supporters’ frustrations spilled over, the match had to be halted. Fans were furious. Furious at the owner, furious at the stadium, furious at everything. This could easily be a description of the recent scenes at West Ham United’s London Stadium, but it isn’t. Instead, this was 1860 Munich, the Hammers’ 1965 Cup Winners’ Cup Final opponents, and things were far worse than a home loss to Burnley.
“It was one of the saddest days of my entire life,” explains veteran fan Franz Hell, his surname all too appropriate for the circumstances in which his beloved football club found themselves on that day last May, when riot police had to stop missile-wielding supporters from storming the pitch.
That month at the Allianz Arena, rivals Bayern Munich had hoisted the Bundesliga trophy for the fifth year in a row. Ten days later, 1860 Munich hosted a relegation play-off in the same stadium, attempting to avoid falling out of the second tier. Things had looked good after a 1-1 draw in the first leg, at third-division side Jahn Regensburg. But in front of 62,000 fans, they lost the second leg 2-0. “They scored two quick goals in the first half and you knew that was that,” says Rainer Kmeth. “The crowd went nuts, and you just hoped the match would end. I travelled home without any feelings. I just felt empty.”
Things would get worse still for 1860. They would not be dropping one division, they would be dropping to the fourth tier – the regional amateur league – following an internal dispute involving the club’s Jordanian majority shareholder, Hasan Ismaik, who refused to pay an €11 million licence fee for the third division. It was all a mess.
Yet out of it all came the one thing 1860 Munich fans had always wanted. The club held talks with Bayern, and left the Allianz Arena. They were going back to the Grunwalder Stadion, which supporters have regarded as the real home of Sechzig (Sixty) since 1911. Unlike West Ham’s Boleyn Ground, knocked down in 2016, the Grunwalder was still standing. Just.
WELCOME HOME… AGAIN
FFT isn’t expecting luxury as we arrive at the Grunwalder for a Friday night game against SV Seligenporten, a little-known side from a tiny Bavarian municipality, population 5,000. There’ll be no padded seats here, nor is the stadium’s exterior glowing an impressive blue, as the Allianz Arena used to do when 1860 were at home. There is not even a roof at the two ends, where open terraces are separated from the pitch by high perimeter fences, harking back to the 1980s.
“For s**t weather, the Arena is the best, but for football, it’s here,” fan Walter Michel tells FFT, holding a can of the German equivalent of Special Brew. With few teeth left, he looks like a man who’s seen it all. “My first match was in 1981 – that was at the Olympiastadion. Then we were here, then the Arena, now we’re here again.”
Indeed, Die Löwen’s existence has been nomadic. The Grunwalder had been their home when they were Bundesliga champions in 1966 but in ’72, two months after providing the location for Monty Python’s Philosophers’ Football Match, the venue was damaged by a hurricane and the club had to leave. A year earlier, the main stand had burned down. In 1943, the Grunwalder had been bombed by the RAF. But no matter what, the ground survived. After a spell at the Olympiastadion, 1860 returned to their spiritual home in the early-80s, when financial problems meant the club suffered relegation to the amateur leagues. Sounds pretty familiar...
Their rise back to the top tier saw them exit for the Olympiastadion again in 1995. But when they dropped back into the second division in 2004, they briefly returned to their old home for what was planned to be a farewell season, before moving to the 75,000-capacity Allianz Arena. As much as they loved all of its foibles, the Grunwalder was no longer fit for purpose. This was the final goodbye.
The groundshare with rivals Bayern was controversial, and probably doomed to fail. This was not the San Siro, where Milan and Inter hold more or less equal status. Bayern are clearly the bigger club, and by 2006 had bought out Sechzig’s 50 per cent share in the stadium for €11m, to bail the second-division side out of financial problems. Not only were Die Löwen the smaller club, now they were tenants.
“The Allianz Arena was Bayern’s home, it wasn’t ours,” explains fan Matthias Rostan. “It was in the middle of nowhere, too. Here we’re in the city and you can drink beer beforehand. It’s just a better feeling.”
“The big arena was never a home to us,” continues Kmeth, a lifelong 1860 fan who now works for the club. “It was always much too big for us. In the first few seasons we had 40,000 or 50,000, and later 66,000 for a cup match against Dortmund. But if it wasn’t full, it was quiet. It wasn’t like here – it’s loud and crazy here. This isn’t the Arena, but they say home is where the heart is. This is the place.”
For Franz Hell, it has been like rediscovering his childhood. “My first game here was on my 10th birthday. It was August 1963, the day the Bundesliga started. I stood with my father under the big clock behind the goal and was so impressed by the atmosphere. I’ve been to nearly every home match since.” That inaugural Bundesliga campaign was only permitted to feature one Munich side and 1860 got the nod over Bayern, who joined the league two years later and have won 26 titles since Sechzig’s only triumph in 1966.
“BAYERN FANS TAKE PITY ON US – WE DON’T LIKE THAT”
Die Löwen have had their moments since then: they competed in the Champions League qualifying rounds in 2000-01, losing to eventual semi-finalists Leeds. But now they face the humiliation of being in the same league as Bayern Munich’s reserve team. “We had to play their second team, and we lost,” sighs Kmeth. “That was the craziest thing you’ve ever seen – to play with our first team against boys of 17, 18 and 19, and to lose. It was heartbreaking.”
Bayern fans enjoyed that, but the city rivalry has taken on a dynamic that makes Hell uncomfortable. “Normally there’s a very strong hatred between Bayern and us. There are only two teams in the world I care about – one is 1860 Munich and the other is the opponent of Bayern in every match. When they lost the 2012 Champions League Final at home to Chelsea, I grinned for three days. But it’s better for them to hate us too, rather than say, ‘We’d like you to get back to the second or third division’. We don’t want them to pity us. I don’t like that.”
Top spot was always the main target this season, and Sechzig lead the regional league by six points going into tonight’s game. Bayern’s reserves are second, providing 1860 with even more incentive. Finish top of the table and they’ll go into a six-team promotion play-off with the other regional champions, likely to include another ex-bundesliga club in Energie Cottbus.
Sechzig have long seen themselves as the true club of Munich, the club of the working class. “Bayern fans come from around the region, the city is blue,” explains Kmeth. That bears some similarities with the perception of Manchester City and Manchester United. But while City have flourished under Middle Eastern ownership, 1860’s issues have worsened since Ismaik purchased a 60 per cent share in the operating company in 2011, when they were in danger of insolvency. He came with big ambitions. “He said we’d go to the Champions League,” says Rostan. “He said that in 2021 we would be as good as Barcelona, but now look where we are.”
Part of the problem was that although Ismaik owns 60 per cent of the shares, he has only 49 per cent of the club’s voting rights because of German football’s ‘50+1’ rule, stipulating that the club’s members must always have the majority say. When 1860’s members disagreed with Ismaik’s plans for the club, things hit deadlock. He had the cash, but they had the power. Ian Ayre surprisingly left Liverpool last year to become 1860’s managing director, but resigned inside two months after realising internal strife made it impossible to get anything done.
Ismaik suggested making a legal challenge against the 50+1 rule, which didn’t go down well with many fans, who see the regulation as fundamental to football culture in Germany. When he failed to get his own way, he decided not to pay the third division licence fee, but still he retains his majority shareholding.
“I think we are one of the craziest clubs in Europe,” admits Kmeth. “Whenever you think everything’s all right, the next problem comes – and it’s not a small problem, it’s a big problem.”
While RB Leipzig catapulted themselves into the Champions League with external funding, 1860’s problems are seen as a symbol of why many in Germany are still hugely wary of foreign investors. “We have 50+1 in Germany and we want it to stay,” insists Rostan. “Ismaik has only made wrong decisions. We want him to go, but I don’t think he will. There have been protests at almost every game.”
“THE TWO TEAMS I CARE ABOUT ARE 1860 AND BAYERN’S OPPONENTS. WHEN THEY LOST THE FINAL AGAINST CHELSEA, I GRINNED FOR THREE DAYS”
Rostan is part of the club’s youthful hardcore support, who stand on the Westkurve terrace. At 65, Franz Hell is more conciliatory. “If we don’t find common ground with Ismaik, we will always be in the same situation,” he says. “The club is far too strong to be destroyed from the outside, but we’re very weak on the inside. There are two groups and they don’t work together. Ismaik wants to have a small say about what to do with his money – he’s spent about €70m, yet we play in the fourth division.”
Sechzig had one of the largest budgets in the second tier last term. But they have also had 12 changes of manager in the past six years, although former 1860 winger Daniel Bierofka has impressed since Portuguese boss Vitor Pereira left in the summer. Almost the entire squad departed too, so a new team has been moulded, largely with players from the reserve side. The club have got a strong record of developing youngsters – Borussia Dortmund midfielder Julian Weigl is among those who have come through their system.
“In the last 10 years, 20-25 players have gone from our academy to the Bundesliga,” reveals Gunther Gorenzel, a former 1860 youth coach who recently returned as sporting director. “The strength of this club is the fanbase, the big tradition we have and a very strong academy. It will always have a future because of those things.” He’s tasked with using those strengths to help move Die Löwen forward again, after a nightmare 2016-17 when not only were the first team relegated, but the under-19s and under-17s too.
We speak to Gorenzel in a corridor – the club apologetically explain that there simply aren’t any rooms inside the Grunwalder in which to chat. There are no executive boxes either, limiting the club’s ability to generate income, with tickets for tonight’s match costing as little as €14. Press facilities are basic, too. “In a way I like it here, but for the internet and view of the pitch, it’s much better at the Allianz Arena,” admits Matthias Eicher, who reports for the Abendzeitung Munchen newspaper. “A renovation would be good, right?!”
“IT’S BECAUSE OF THE FANS THAT THIS CLUB IS ALIVE”
We take our seat away from the press box and among the fans in the main stand. Rock music and club songs blare out from the speakers ahead of kick-off, which the club officially say is at 18.60 – that’s 7pm to you. A senior citizen twirls an old-school rattle as the sides emerge from the tunnel – FFT is already beginning to feel like we have entered a time warp. Ultras wave giant flags and let off smoke bombs, having decked the Westkurve out with banners. “Einmal Lowe, immer Lowe (Once a Lion, always a Lion),” says one, referring to their nickname. “50+1 muss bleiben (50+1 must stay),” says another.
The Grunwalder’s record attendance is 58,560, but capacity is now 12,500 for safety reasons, with a section of the Westkurve shut off. The stadium is sold out tonight, as it has been all season. There is no sign of Seligenporten fans, bar three people with red scarves.
The pillars in the main stand lead to many a restricted view. FFT find a good spot, but when latecomers, beers in hand, ask everyone in the row to move along a couple of seats, we discover that pillars are now blocking our view of not only one goal, but both. Grounds like this just don’t exist in England these days following the wave of regeneration post-taylor Report. The Grunwalder has been preserved due to the fact it was owned by the city’s authorities, and remained a home to both 1860 and Bayern’s second teams.
The lack of a roof at either end is not affecting the atmosphere, with the ultras orchestrated by a bloke perched on the perimeter fencing with a megaphone, and a drummer. “Sechzig! Sechzig!” fans scream. In terms of noise, this doesn’t feel like a fourth-division match. An old chap gets to his feet in the main stand and starts playing a harmonica, making FFT briefly wonder whether we’ve suddenly been transported to a speakeasy in the Great Depression. His tune complete, he receives a round of applause and sits back down.
Soon everyone in the ground is on their feet, as Markus Ziereis heads 1860 in front. Cue rock music, and the stadium announcer bellowing “Tooooor fur 1800…” to begin a well-honed call and answer routine. “Sechzig!” the crowd respond. “Nummer 24, Markus…” “Ziereis!” “Markus!” “Ziereis!” “MARKUS!!” “ZIEREIS!!” The rather basic scoreboard is quickly adapted to ‘Heim 1 Gaste 0’ (Home 1 Visitors 0), and there’s time for another quick tune from the mouth organist before the referee blows for half-time.
At that point, we leave our seat to speak to club president Robert Reisinger in another random interview location: with music booming out, the quietest spot to talk is in the home dugout. “This is the right stadium for us in this league,” he says. “If you’re playing in the fourth division, you must play in a small stadium and not a great big arena. It was an economic decision but we also have a story to tell now, as we’ve come back to our home.”
The club have permission to increase capacity to 15,000 for next season, but the Grunwalder is a short-term fix. There’s no option to return to the Allianz, and 1860 would be unlikely to receive approval to stage home matches at the Grunwalder if they got as high as the second division again, where different stadium regulations apply.
Renovations would be needed, but the money would have to come from the stadium’s owners, the city authorities. The city location is also likely to make expansion impractical. “This ground is enough for the third and fourth divisions,” says Reisinger. “For now, we will try to stay here. We must take it step by step, then we’ll see what the city says and decide. It’s difficult – it’s always a question of money. We have got a lot of fans, but not so much money.”
With the dugout ready to be occupied for the second half, we head back to our seat and watch as Seligenporten come close to levelling.
THE TEAM CELEBRATE In FRONT OF THE ULTRAS AT THE FINAL WHISTLE. THIS IS A CLUB WHO HAVE REDISCOVERED THEIR SOUL AT THE GRUNWALDER
Rain starts to fall on the terraces as anxiety levels increase, but with 13 minutes left Ziereis races onto a through-ball, pokes it around the onrushing goalkeeper and finds the empty net. All the anxiety clears and, just like that, the rain stops. The mouth organist is off again, and a fan at the front leads a one-man campaign to start a Mexican wave. He tries around 15 times – getting no further than one block on each occasion – and looks around, arms outstretched in disappointment. Phillipp Steinhart converts a late free-kick to round off a 3-0 victory, putting 1860 nine points clear at the top of the table.
The entire team celebrate in front of the ultras at the final whistle. After years of troubles, this looks like a football club who have found happiness again; a football club who have rediscovered their soul at the Grunwalder. They have won 12 of 14 home games in the league this season. “You see that the atmosphere in this ground is fantastic,” coach Bierofka tells FFT afterwards. “There’s a great spirit in our club.”
“It’s very cool to be playing here,” says defender Jan Mauersberger, one of the few still around from last season. “I doubt we would have had the same atmosphere at the Allianz. It’s because of the fans that this club is still alive. We hope to give them something back.”
Given the general sense of cheerfulness around the place tonight, we ask supporter Jonas Kaufmann a question. Given a choice, which would he prefer: being in the second division at the Allianz Arena, or staying in the fourth tier at the Grunwalder? “Of course this division,” he says. “This is the home of our club.”
That answer tells you everything about being a football supporter. Huge stadiums and impressive facilities are nice, but most important of all is a sense of identity, a sense of belonging. In the vast majority of cases, fans just want to feel at home.