Season 1969/70: This season there is a player in Duisburg who they call “Kuchenkasper” – and who always uses a strange trick of his ex-coach Lorant. One of the most legendary and painful stories in the league takes place in Dortmund. And in Gladbach they are kidding their master trainer Weisweiler!
In the 1969/70 season, the Duisburg team called their captain Detlef Pirsig “Kuchenkasper”. His old coach Gyula Lorant gave him the trick, who always drummed it into his teams: “Guys, if you eat a piece of cake before the game, you’ll still have strength for the last twenty minutes. Then the others are broken, and you can still walk.”
Pirsig’s wife Brigitte was allowed to put a fresh cake in the oven every third day. The MSV professional never counted the pieces that he plastered in his career, but “there must have been a few thousand,” he once assumed with a smile. Incidentally, the sweet food gave the Duisburger such impressive powers that he was very much feared by the opponents, as BVB professional Werner “Acker” Weist once recalled: “With Detlef Pirsig you had to wear the shin guards on the back too, so he went on the Socks. But he played with his stockings hanging down and never noticed one!”
The story of the season and one of the best-known anecdotes in 59 years of Bundesliga football took place in autumn 1969. The double bite of a shepherd dog in the buttocks of Schalke player Friedel Rausch is legendary. And so the agonizing minutes of September 6, 1969, when hundreds of spectators stormed the field in the Rote Erde stadium at the Revierderby Borussia Dortmund against FC Schalke 04 and were supposed to be pushed back by muzzled dogs, entered the collective memory of the Bundesliga. Schalke President Oskar Siebert’s wonderfully spectacular idea of ??bringing four real big cats out of the Westerholt Lion Park in the second leg and having them patrol the middle line on a leash by four stewards is legendary and widely known.
But for a long time Friedel Rausch preferred to keep to himself that weeks after the pain had subsided, Friedel Rausch still had far greater problems to deal with. Because the teasing of the opponents not only annoyed him in the following months, no, they were also a little embarrassing for the vain sunny boy. The smart Friedel Rausch suddenly became the laughing stock of people on the football pitch: “It was hell. My opponent came up to almost every game and went ‘woof-woof’. From then on I was the laughing stock of the league.”
His Schalke teammates also played their jokes with intoxication. So in the days after the incident, they hypocritically asked the poor buddy: “Friedel, think about it, the dog would have bitten you around the front…?” Quite the old macho, Rausch replied, mentally up to speed again, cool and relaxed: “Then the mutt would have lost his teeth…”
Many years later, his BVB opponent Siggi Held pointed out an aspect of this memorable day that had been neglected for a long time: “History always pays too little attention to the clever dogs that existed in Dortmund at the time.” Dogs who knew exactly who to bite and who not to. Incidentally, Friedel Rausch was awarded compensation for pain and suffering in the amount of 500 marks – and free of charge he received the lifelong happiness of being the hero of one of the most-told Bundesliga stories ever.
Incidentally, it was not FC Bayern Munich who became German champions this season, but Borussia Mönchengladbach. Foal trainer Hennes Weisweiler finally managed to get his team’s greatest weakness under control. The defense conceded the fewest goals in the league. The opponents only scored 29 times in Gladbach’s box. This was mainly due to the newcomers Luggi Müller from Nuremberg and Klaus-Dieter Sieloff from Stuttgart. The two tough warriors gave the defense the long-missed stability. Weisweiler was satisfied with his tactics: “You can’t do it with foil alone. You also need heavy swords.”
And otherwise Gladbach’s coach left nothing to chance. He knew that sometimes the little things matter. Before a hotel was booked for the Borussia Mönchengladbach team, Weisweiler obtained detailed information about the local cheese range. In addition, a bottle of Fernet Branca always had to be in the house. Weisweiler strictly: “We check these things very carefully!”
A big plus for Gladbach was the harmony in the squad, which resulted from the clear hierarchy. Berti Vogts: “Günter Netzer was the sole boss, and not just on the field. We ten others subordinated ourselves completely to him. We knew what he meant for our game.” Even during the celebrations, the “boss” Netzer largely stayed out of the hustle and bustle of the others. Some players tweaked Hennes Weisweiler’s bed with their manager Grashoff in the rush of happiness from the championship triumph in the hotel.
The plan: The bed should collapse as soon as the trainer would lie down in it. And it succeeded. When Weisweiler climbed into his cozy bedroom, there was a loud crash. Grashoff and the players stood in front of the room, laughing, holding their stomachs and waiting for the coach – but he didn’t come out of his relaxation room. It was only when Weisweiler woke up the next morning lying on the ground that he realized what had happened to him that night. Even while falling, the master trainer must have fallen asleep sweetly and soundly.
