And then there is that one scene that has burned itself into the collective memory of at least all German football fans who were alive at the time: Franz Beckenbauer, brown curls, long, flowing jacket, hands in the pockets of his light-coloured, wide-leg trousers, gold medal around his neck, walking slowly across the pitch of the Stadio Olimpico, lost in thought, while around him his players celebrate exuberantly like children, chased by photographers and cameramen. An intimate moment of solitude and tranquillity amid the collective madness.
"It was all so far away. Even though there was so much cheering and such a loud atmosphere. I was just on the pitch, I noticed that I was moving. But I had the feeling that someone was pushing me. Someone was urging me on. Someone was pulling me. But what was I thinking at that moment? I don't remember. I was probably dreaming," is how Beckenbauer himself described those lonely moments.
It is 8 July, 1990; Germany has just become world champions for the third time, a feat previously achieved only by Brazil and Italy, and on this last magical night of the World Cup in Italy, the legend, Kaiser Franz Beckenbauer, has finally become the shining light of German football as well as the unofficial president of a country that is rediscovering itself.










