The fans loved the "crazy" spectacle

In earlier times, German soccer fans enjoyed a very special spectacle - indoor soccer. The supporters loved the up-close experience on the sidelines, while the players couldn't get the fear of injury out of their heads. And yet: in the end, the fond memories remain.

"It was a huge shame what ARD did: In the third-place match at the Indoor Masters, they fade out right before the decisive eight-meter shootout! It's best to turn off your TV and go out for a fancy meal instead." Wolfgang Nitz from Duisburg was really angry at the time when the First German Television made it impossible for him to enjoy his great passion. The fans had loved their indoor tournaments for many decades. But then it suddenly came to an end in 2001 for many reasons - but one in particular: The spectacle in the hall had always been a dangerous affair for the players. BVB keeper Teddy de Beer once even described the heated duels as "hell".

When Bayern's Bernd Dürnberger once tore all of his cruciate ligaments, his medial ligament and his meniscus during an indoor tournament, he said afterwards: "At the time, the pain was like when someone grazes you with a hot iron." It hurts just to hear it. But such injuries were not uncommon back then. While the fans behind the boards were up close and personal, ecstatically - and often under the influence of alcohol - whipping their stars forward, the players gave their all on a wide variety of surfaces. Whether on artificial turf, parquet or linoleum - since the 1970s, games have been played wherever possible and wherever enough spectators could be accommodated. And this despite the fact that very few coaches were fans of these tournaments. Bremen legend Otto Rehhagel grumbled early on: "I myself am against indoor soccer. But the clubs need the money."

However, Rehhagel could not deny that the closeness between the fans and the players on the one hand, and between the representatives of the individual clubs on the other, had something to offer. The story from January 1993 is legendary, when the Bremen coach was particularly taken with one player at an indoor tournament in Berlin: "Mario shot everything together, it was madness." Basler himself wrote about this tournament in his book "Eigentlich bin ich ein Supertyp": "I really let off steam and did whatever I wanted with my opponents. That didn't seem to have gone unnoticed."

Basler met Rehhagel at the urinal

And Basler also remembers what happened next: "After the semi-final, I was standing at the urinal when Werder coach Otto Rehhagel suddenly came in. He waited until I had washed my hands and pressed a note into my hand." On his way out, the Bremen coach then whispered to him that he should call him. And indeed, just a few months later, Mario Basler was already playing in the Green-White jersey. That was also indoor soccer back then. In view of stories like these, it is easy to understand why the fans were attracted to this very special atmosphere. But at the end of the 1980s, concerns prevailed.

Paul Breitner had already hated the indoor tournaments as a Bayern star - and now made no secret of his negative attitude as a columnist: "The players come home from their winter vacation, put their suitcases down at home - and off they go to the indoor tournaments. That's crazy. A top athlete coming out of regeneration needs to be built up carefully." But at the Budenzauber, of course, the exact opposite was the case. It was constantly up and down in stuffy halls and on dull floors. When the sirens rang out at the end of a game, most of the players were completely exhausted.

Worried that they wouldn't be able to keep up, curious stories were told time and again. Roland Wohlfarth from Bochum at the time bought the appetite suppressant "Recatol N" from the pharmacy in order to lose a few kilos. It worked - but a doping test after an indoor tournament meant he lost his eligibility to play. This was because the banned substance "norephedrine" contained in the appetite suppressant was on the doping list. The indoor soccer adventure turned out to be expensive fun for Wohlfarth and VfL Bochum. The result was a two-month ban and a fine of 60,000 marks.

FIFA dispensed with Plexiglas

The prize money - at the end of the 1980s, the tournament winners received between DM 15,000 and DM 30,000 - could not keep up. For the clubs, however, it was a nice extra income in the weeks and months without spectator income. During the five weeks of the winter break, between 15 and 20 tournaments were held in Germany. And FIFA also hosted an indoor World Cup in the Netherlands for the first time at the beginning of 1989. However, as this was of little financial interest to the DFB and the clubs preferred to earn their own money at the tournaments, Germany canceled.

But the DFB cited another reason for its decision against the Indoor World Cup. Unlike in the German halls, the Netherlands was to play without the popular Plexiglas boards, which spectators always particularly liked because they conveyed the feeling of a close-up experience. And so the former champion coach and columnist at the time, Max Merkel, wrote in his usual flippant manner: "Indoor soccer without boards is like a wedding night without a wife." And with that - he could be sure - he spoke straight from the heart of the fans who loved indoor soccer so much in those days.

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Despite the danger and thearguments against it from some coaches, indoor soccer tournaments were a source of income for clubs during the winter break. One of the reasons fans loved these tournaments was the closeness to their favorite players, as FC Bayern Munich's Bernd Dürnberger once experienced firsthand when he suffered a serious injury. Otto Rehhagel, a critic of indoor soccer, shared a memorable moment with Mario Basler at an indoor tournament, leading to Basler's eventual signing with Werder Bremen.

Source: www.ntv.de