The sun did come up this morning in Bavaria. There had been doubts.
Munich is usually quiet on a Sunday. The shops are closed, and people are at church. But today, with many sleeping off what had been a very long night, Munich felt even more absent and hollow.
Last night, the trains back from Allianz were packed, and the riders were tense. Chelsea fans were the only people singing, and it was a tough audience. The well-armed green-clad cops moved the blue pack along, forcing people to jam into the U-Bahn cars so they couldn’t move. To wither the disappointed fans further, officials then parked them for a bit on the rails in stuffy heat. There was one moment at the Giselastrasse stop where the German police waded in past me to dissuade some rowdier Bayern Munich fans from getting too frisky with the Chelsea lot. But the air of defeat surrounding the home side was so profound that this was an aberration, as Bayern fans didn’t even seem to have the energy to respond to the Londoners’ taunts. The Blues moved on to singing about Tottenham in profane terms, as they of course had knocked Spurs out of the Champions League for next season with this win.
Bar owners shut doors and extinguished lights early at the sight of the English pack. There was a report in the press hall that the police had ordered most of the “English” pubs in the city to be shut. True? I don’t know. But the beer gardens I walked past on the way home were littered with overturned chairs, television sets turned up far louder than they should have been, and people sitting on the tables, staring ahead, not talking. One man was sobbing, loudly and unstoppably on his girlfriend’s shoulders. He looked like he’d been at it for quite a while – this was a solid two hours after the final whistle.
At two in the morning, the massive Englischer Garten, the city park that divides west from east in the City, was full of young women on bicycles, riding smoothly past groups of Bayern fans sitting on overturned cases of beer. The lights on the paths were off, so as the bikers passed, their lights caught a face here and there on the side of the road, popping up ghost-like through the dark. Those faces were wan, tired and many were streaked with tears. The cyclists moved on into the night, leaving only silence behind them.
How much can happen in three hours? Yesterday, the papers had screamed, “today, we are all red.” People packed the streets and gardens, and it was a glorious early summer day. The city felt alive, and it was hard not to be swept along with the giddy optimism. I am personally agnostic on these matters, but seeing all the faces alive with good cheer, it was hard not to pull a bit for Bayern.
But by the time I hit the station, Bild already had its front page built. They led with what will stand as the image of the game: Bayern midfielder Bastian Schweinsteiger, in tears, with the header, "We all cry with you."
The irony is that Bayern did more than enough to win. Were they wasteful? Yes. But they were also sparkling and entertaining. Where they failed was in their nerve, allowing frustration to dictate their actions late in the game. Jupp Heynckes made a fatal error in switching Daniel van Buyten for Thomas Muller in an attempt to see out the final minutes. Had his Bayern side continued to pour forward and continued to push Chelsea back, the Blues might never have had that fateful corner kick.
The quality of play from Bayern was also far higher. Arjen Robben will be remembered for having a critical penalty saved but he was brilliant all night long, just barely matched by Ashley Cole and Ryan Bertrand. Mario Gomez was far off the pace, missing two sitters in pathetic fashion. Yet, he was really the only laggard on a strong Munich side. All night Bayern looked to shift the attack, probing and pulling. Plus, the Bavarians turned up unlucky on more than one occasion. Philipp Lahm was insightful, Franck Ribery was more than a handful, and keeper Manuel Neuer could have unfolded a cot and napped for long stretches.
Chelsea were stout but negative. They were not only unwilling to go forward, they were unable to. Had they attempted to get into a truly flowing and attractive contest, they would have been blown out. Credit John Obi Mikel for once more providing the anchor, and Petr Cech for, well, being Petr Cech. But in many other areas, Chelsea were covering up deficiencies; Jose Bosingwa was uncomfortable all night long against Ribery; Juan Mata went a solid half hour without a single touch on the ball in the second half; and would you really start David Luiz if you didn’t have to?
The Blues kept at least eight men and, at times all eleven, behind the ball. Didier Drogba was left on a lonely hunt for crumbs up top, and at one point Bayern didn’t even bother to leave a defender in their own half. There was nothing for them to defend against. Chelsea merely pivoted, left to right and back again, in a trapezoidal wall that allowed Bayern to come forward but only so far. Once in a while Ribery or Robben would make the dash inside, but there always seemed to be a Blue limb, foot, or head in the way. Chelsea played not to lose. And they didn’t.
Beauty, of course, is in the eye of the beholder. Chelsea have the silverware they have coveted for so long, and they will most likely not care about the manner in which they won it. The game itself was also engrossing – a seat-of-the-pants affair that had all the theatre one could ask for from the sport.
The proof of that is plain: Munich is wrung out. They gave all they got, and went home empty handed. Today, the city remained at home, windows closed, and in the dark.
For now, it will take a long time to sleep this one off.
