A Love Letter to Thomas Muller.
Space distortion, maximum effort, and all good things must come to an end.
With Bayern’s elimination from the Club World Cup, we also call time on one of its greatest servants, the closest a player will ever get to embodying a club.
This is a post about Thomas Muller, an ode to him. It is also a post that is not about him at all. Such is life when you talk about the gangly Bavarian.
We begin with a quote from his farewell speech:
“But still, I appeal to everyone who’ll be here next year and in the years to come: bust your asses - this is something bigger than anything you could ever imagine for yourselves.”
That is the Thomas Muller way in a nutshell: bust your ass off and suddenly the impossible is within your grasp.
No player has been the perfect scorer, passer, dribbler, defender all in one. Each player is an amalgam of these varying traits and we appreciate them for their unique mix. If I ever became a footballer I would want to play like Thomas Muller: all action, maximum effort, and a certain relishing of the scrappiness.
Take his performances in the 2013 Champions League Semi-Final. For me this was a quintessential performance. Radio Muller was broadcast all over Europe on those evenings. Over two legs I haven’t seen a more comprehensive drubbing of an elite team. 4-0 in the first leg, 3-0 in the second leg. Muller instrumental in delivering that win and ultimately the Champions League.
In the first leg he started with a headed goal at the back-post, then an assist for Mario Gomez, and he completed his evening with an outstretched poke from a cross to the near post.
In the second leg he capped off the trouncing with a far-post header from a Ribery cross. 7-0. Muller directly involved in 4. He never stopped running until the final whistle went, the game won long ago.
Now all great players have their coupe de grace, their shining performance of greatness. What draws me to Thomas Muller is the lack of aesthetic about it. These weren’t contributions that were easy on the eye or that would make you get up off your seat. He turned dogged determination to deliver into an art form with his incredible reading of the game.
Watch a goals compilation of Muller and the pattern is how he is able to contort himself between defenders to squeeze in a goal. The more cerebral amongst us would call him a ‘Ramdeuter’. The word is often defined as someone who creates space either for himself or his teammates with off the ball runs.
That captures most of it very well, but I think it misses the element of distortion. Thomas Muller wasn’t a player who was formulaically making off-the-ball runs in service of his team, he was using his rather unique genius to distort play to create pivotal openings only he could do.
Even his positioning is something of a peculiarity. Not a striker, not a pure number 10, not a number 8, not a wide forward, not a wide midfielder. And yet all of those things and more. The paradox of Muller: not quite neatly fitting into any position and yet capable of playing any of them.
Fans of Greek mythology (or Nassim Taleb) may be aware of the tale of The Procrustean Bed. Modern football increasingly resembles a procrustean bed with an emphasis on systems, mechanical forms of play and a clogged up fixture schedule. Players must sacrifice all to fit into the Procrustean bed of modern football or not play at all. With Muller’s ride into the sunset, the last resistance against this tyranny also goes. A slight spin on the Greek tale: there is no Theseus to save us. Gone because the Bayern hierarchy refused to give him a new contract.
It is no exaggeration to say the game as a whole is impoverished without Thomas Muller. Bayern without Mr. Bayern. A game increasingly obsessed with making and finding space without the ultimate distorter of the pitch. The most hard working player I have seen. I don’t think we will see another player like Thomas Muller anytime soon.
The funny thing is he isn’t even retiring, his time at Bayern is simply up. Now seems the most appropriate time to acknowledge an underappreciated magician of the game. He was an icon throughout my teenage years and early adulthood not only because of the moments he provided, but because of the symbolism a player like that succeeding meant to me. A triumph of effort and intelligence over the pure aesthetical. This isn’t a philistines take, rather a calling out of an underappreciated side of Football. In a world which increasingly emphasizes style over substance, appearances over meaning, and distillation into 60 second increments: the career of Thomas Muller serves an antidote.
The greatest players leave you in awe and put a smile on your face. Ronaldo Nazario, Ronaldinho, Kaka, Lionel Messi - all have moments which make you smile, gasp, and clap in admiration. For Thomas Muller there is no singular moment, and yet his game gave me joy in a way very few footballers have. Each ugly toe poke or far post header only enhancing his legend.
His style of play is a reminder that hard work and intelligence can bring a smile to the faces of those who see your work. The next time I scuff a ball into the net, I will be thinking of Herr Muller.
This is a post about Thomas Muller. This is not a post about Thomas Muller. It is a reminder that life has room for the awkwardly brilliant, it just takes a bit of appreciation.