It was 1 May 1979, and the streets were deserted. Most people were sitting over a late breakfast, enjoying Labour Day. Not Uli Hoeneß.
He stood at the front door of FC Bayern München's offices and wasn't quite sure whether he should go in or not.
As if an invisible force had read his thoughts, the door opened. Uli! Come in, come in!
Paul Breitner stood laughing in the doorframe, waving his old companion into the hallowed halls.
They asked me again yesterday whether I think you're too young for the job, Breitner teased. This isn't about age — it's about performance, commitment, ideas. I can't turn down an offer like this because I'm 27, Hoeneß replied.
At 35 it might be too late.
