Auf Wiedersehen, Germany

Dear Germany, 

I don’t usually do stuff like this. I’m a very private guy. But now that I’m retiring from the national team, I want to write a little more than just an Instagram post. I want to explain to you what Germany means to me. What football means to me.

Because honestly, this decision was difficult.

I was torn between my head and my heart.

My heart was saying, “You will miss this so much. You will miss the pride of playing for your country. You will miss the feeling of being around the guys.”

But after speaking to my family, I feel that I am going out at the right moment. 

I would have loved to say goodbye by winning the Euros, but just being at the tournament and seeing everyone get behind a new generation of German football felt like an incredible victory. You have to remember where I was coming from. 

Just 18 months ago, I was wondering whether I would ever play football again. 

At first when I broke my leg, I was thinking that it wasn’t such a big deal. The helicopter would pick me up, the doctors would do their thing and I would be back on the pitch. But when I got to the hospital, it became very clear that this was not just a normal fracture. My future as a footballer was in doubt. 

The hardest part was the worrying. One moment you are out skiing, the next you are staring into a hospital wall, thinking that this passion that has been part of your identity all your life can be taken away from you. 

I was scared. I think anyone would be. 

I spent a week in the hospital, and then the therapist and the doctor began coming to our house every day. I’ll never forget the relief I felt when they told me that I would be okay. And I remember Christmas that year, when I invited the doctor and his family to have coffee with us. After the treatment, we had a great afternoon all together at our house — his family and mine. The medical staff at Bayern were also a crucial part of the recovery process.

After a few months, I was setting dates for a series of comebacks. 

First steps on my own. 

First time running again.

First training. 

First game.

Every target, I missed. 

But what I am proud of is that I never quit. I kept pushing. And with the help of my family members, friends and teammates, I returned to the pitch in October 2023, less than seven months before the Euros. 

When I was announced in the tournament squad, it was one of the proudest achievements of my life. 

A small miracle.

Of course, many people doubted that I could still be our number one. I was 38, and I had been out for nearly a year. But the staff gave me the assurances that I needed to fight for the spot, and I knew that I had been performing well. I even told myself that maybe my real age was 35, if you added up all the injuries I’d had — the time that had been stolen from me. 

When our first game started, I felt that thrill of competing in a major tournament. I blocked out everything. I was in my favorite place on earth….

Between the posts. Playing for my country.

And I remember feeling the enthusiasm from the crowd again. As a team, we had worked very hard to win back that feeling, you know?

That bond between the team and the people, that sense that we stand together as one country — we had missed that. At the Euros, we felt it again.

We had already sensed it when we first met up at our camp. When we trained together, you could tell that every single one of us knew how much was at stake. And in our downtime, we had this incredible atmosphere in the group. You know when you are a kid, and school is finally over, and you get a whole summer to play around with your friends? That’s what it felt like.

We were playing poker and boccia and darts and table tennis. I think I beat almost everyone at cornhole, but we had a little problem, because I am super competitive — even for a coin toss, I fight to win — and we had this other guy on our team who literally refuses to lose. 

Thomas Müller.

He knew I was going to beat him at cornhole, so he simply refused to play. He said I was cheating. 

“You’re too good at throwing.”

That’s Thomas. What can you do?

Of course, it was a bitter feeling to lose the quarterfinal, but I believe that we started something new this summer. We built a young squad, with a clear identity and the support of the German people. 

We were a team, which we have not always managed in the past.

I hope we began a new chapter for German football.

When I went on holiday, I had a lot of positive feelings. Everyone had been happy about my performance, and I could feel that the emotional part of me wanted to continue. I would love to keep going with this team, because I believe in it, and I have invested so much in it. 

But if I had joined the team for this next cycle, I would have signed up for the 2026 World Cup, when I will be 40. At the moment, my body makes me feel very good, but nobody can look into the future.

Five months ago, right before the Euros, I also became a father for the first time.

When I talked it over with my friends and family, the decision became clear.

This is the right time. 

Thankfully, goodbyes are easier when you have so many good memories.

Soon we will have the 10-year anniversary of the 2014 World Cup. It’s the one all us former players still talk about, and the funny thing is that it actually started badly. We beat Portugal in the first game, but Pepe got sent off early and we didn’t really play that well. And our training camp at Bahia was ... interesting. I remember lying in my bed and seeing rainwater drip through the roof. When I was trying to sleep, these wild, exotic animals were chirping and howling outside my window. I felt like I was in a nature documentary. 

Caww!!! Caww!!! Raaahhh!!!

Even the birds wouldn’t leave me in peace. 

After we had drawn our second game 2–2 against Ghana, I wrote a postcard to a friend back in Germany. Maybe I could have sent him a text message, but there is a certain charm to posting something by mail. The card had the beach and the sea on the front, and on the inside I wrote something like …

“ … I think we will leave the tournament very early. My feeling really is not the best. But we are working hard … ”

It sounds ridiculous now, you know? Football is a funny sport. 

But this was honestly how I was feeling. 

Then we got out of the group, got a few ugly wins, and suddenly we were in the semifinals against Brazil, who were missing Neymar and were under so much pressure. The 7–1 was a surprise to us, too. After the game, we hugged the Brazilians, because we knew them from our games in Europe, and we had a lot of sympathy for how difficult their situation was. Since we did our victory lap in a quiet way, out of respect for the hosts, I think we won over a lot of Brazilian fans for the final. One of my favourite memories from that tournament is how well they treated us. 

And that final ………… You know what my favourite part was? The same as my favourite part of any win. 

The final whistle.

Once the whistle blows, you can finally enjoy it. I remember that we all came together, hugging and laughing on the grass at the Maracanã. In Germany we call it a “shock moment.” It is when a couple of seconds feels like forever. 

Suddenly I got flashbacks to all these moments that had led me there. 

Like when I first walked out onto the pitch at Schalke at four years old, and no one else wanted to play in goal, so my coach said, “Manuel, you’re the keeper now.” 

Like when my mom had to replace our washing machine every two years because my clothes were so dirty from playing on this clay pitch, diving for loose balls and coming home looking like a dog who had rolled around in the mud. 

Like when I would play out in the street with my friends as a midfielder, so I could finally play with the ball at my feet. 

Like when I had to leave my family and friends behind to go to boarding school so that I could pursue my dream, and how lonely I was there, and how I would ask, “Why am I making life so hard for myself? Is it really worth it?”

Well, Manu....

Yes, it was worth it. 

You did it for that feeling you got when you heard the final whistle.

Maybe I could have won the Euros, too, but I have no regrets. When my son grows up and people talk about his father playing for Germany, I hope that my legacy is that I played without fear, and that I helped my teammates be better players every day. 

If that is what they’ll say about me, I'll be happy.

Now I can focus on helping Bayern return to where we belong. At 38, I still have this childlike passion for football. If I see a ball lying on the grass 20 metres away, I have to run over and do something with it. Kick-ups, headers … something. I can’t let it sit there alone. It’s a crime against football. My coaches laugh, because I look like this little kid who has just discovered the game, but it has always been this way for me. 

The day I no longer run over to get that ball, I know it will be time to stop.

But as far as the national team goes, I will be watching my former teammates as one more fan. I appreciate all of you guys, for the work we have put in together, for the memories we have shared, for all the laughs and the jokes.

I’ll miss you. 

Keep building on what we started. 

Don’t lose that feeling.

Thank you for everything.

Your keeper,

— Manu