INTERVIEW - In 2014, he was a football world champion – now he's a writer. Christoph Kramer says: "I hope my book will be required reading in German schools."

Mr. Kramer, until recently you were playing football in the stadium. Now you're on tour with your literary debut, "Life Began in Summer," and all your readings are sold out.

The readings do indeed sell out in no time, but of course they don't take place in a stadium in front of thousands of people. I'm simply delighted that the book has been so well received, that so many people are enthusiastic about it, and that the bookstores are full.

You had researched that you needed to sell 8,472 copies to become a bestseller. You easily achieved that, landing straight at number 1 on the "Spiegel" bestseller list. Do you also have athletic ambition in your writing?

I just can't get it out of my head that I'm always being measured against league tables. It's my inner drive, the way I was socialized. I was like that even as a child; my entire career as a footballer worked this way. But the sheer positive feedback after the release showed me that the bestseller list isn't the most important thing. I've even received more messages than after leaving Mönchengladbach last summer. Some wrote to me saying that difficult days felt a little easier for them thanks to my book. That makes me very happy right now.

Literature and football both appeal to emotions. Do you think you can touch people differently as an author?

The literary scene is a completely different bubble. People who read books are more appreciative and supportive. In football, the tone is rougher. I discovered reading late in life. Which doesn't surprise me, though; school reading in Germany tends to discourage fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds from reading. At that age, no one wants to read Goethe's "Faust" or Georg Büchner's "Danton's Death."

What would be more suitable?

"Tschick" by Wolfgang Herrndorf, for example. Reading would be good for today's generation of young people. But we should discuss books in school that children enjoy reading, books with which they can identify. Goethe is great, but just not for fifteen-year-olds. I hope my book will become required reading in schools someday.

What could students learn from your novel?

I never wanted to write a didactic book. But I think children would understand between the lines that every time has something difficult that, in retrospect, can become something light. In the summer of 2006, life felt full of worries to me. As I sorted through these memories now, almost twenty years later, I had to smile about many of the episodes. While writing the book, I learned that problems are part of life, but that you shouldn't take them too seriously because you can trust that they will disappear with time. And that gives present-day problems a lightness of touch.

You started writing as a teenager; a coach advised you to write down your feelings. How did that become a novel?

At first, I wrote a diary and short stories. For a long time, I didn't plan on ever publishing what I wrote. In my last year at Gladbach, in 2024, when things weren't going well on the pitch and I felt my career was coming to an end, the plan became more concrete. I wanted something new to save me from the infamous post-career slump.

Your book neither distances itself from nor glorifies football. It's unheroic. Why did you leave out large parts of what you're known and famous for?

Because the expected bores me. Writing about the blackout in the 2014 World Cup final again would have been simply embarrassing; I've talked about it a thousand times. A traditional autobiography didn't appeal to me either.

Because all successful footballers’ biographies are somehow similar?

Yes, exactly. There's hardly anything exciting about it. I couldn't have written fifty pages about myself like that. Instead, I wanted to write a novel.

One of the strengths of your book is that you write openly about self-doubt and the fear of being the center of attention. But you're not shy either. How does that fit together?

The summer of 2006, which the book is about, had a profound impact on my personality. Today, I would describe myself as a strong, self-confident person. But it wasn't always like that. Back then, I had a lot of worries and little courage. I often lay alone in bed, regretting not having done certain things. I was determined to write about that time because it was the most important time for developing my character. And I've never had a problem talking about my feelings. Many people still think that's a weakness. I actually believe that only strong characters can talk about their weaknesses.

You recently said, "If I hadn't been so lucky and it hadn't paid off, I would be mourning my youth." What did you miss?

Those who subordinate everything to football at an early age miss out on many social events and experience some firsts late. The first party or the first kiss. You also don't really notice the isolation from your parents because you're so busy with football. Today I can say: Everything went perfectly! But if it hadn't worked out, I would regret some of the things I gave up in my youth to become a professional footballer.

In your novel, you describe group dynamics that are central to youth. What about group dynamics in football?

I've long been fascinated by the sensitivity of team structures in sports. How players interact with each other, how hierarchies emerge, how teams function. Even the question of how someone changes when they become captain. Or how differently an individual behaves within a group depending on whether they've played well or poorly.

Why is there so little public discussion about group dynamics in football?

Because there's no time for that. That's certainly my experience as a TV pundit. And it required a deeper insight into the team structure, which hardly anyone has. What annoys me, though, is that the same explanations have been used in Germany for fifty years. If a team wins, the players gave their all. If they lose, their effort was lacking. Is that our conclusion from football matches? That's insane. On the other hand, purely tactical explanations for defeats usually fall short as well.

In 2014, you won the FIFA World Cup with Germany. Was that because the team worked so well together?

Back then, we certainly had a special team. There were 12 or 13 regular players; the rest of the players didn't make any demands; we were simply happy when we got to play. Looking back, you could say that Jogi Löw did everything right in terms of hierarchy because everyone was on board. However, we could have easily been eliminated in the round of 16 against Algeria; then no one would have talked about team spirit.

You podcast with Tommi Schmitt, commentate on ZDF with your former teammate Per Mertesacker, and play in the Baller League. What's next?

I'm already writing my next book. But right now, I'm really enjoying this book tour. And I'm getting my coaching licenses.

When will we see coach Kramer?

I don't know yet. I'm currently using this time to gain a healthy perspective on football. But it will happen.

It's interesting that you continue to receive so much attention. You announced your retirement, and now you're no longer playing. But little has changed in your interactions with the public.

It's different – ​​but the level of validation is similar. I think the whole validation thing is often underestimated. And it's not particularly cool to talk about it. But going from 100 to 0, when you're suddenly no longer playing football, that's also difficult; you have to be careful. And that's why I'm trying to reduce the attention slowly and healthily so I don't fall into that "nobody cares about me anymore" hole.

You still have the ambition to win literary prizes. It's gratifying if that happens, and it doesn't matter if you don't—as long as you have fun doing it?

Yes, that sums it up perfectly. That's my life right now. I only do things I enjoy. And if I'm successful at them, all the better. That's a huge privilege.

A large part of the book was written when things weren't going so well in football. Did this development have anything to do with your coach, Gerardo Seoane?

No. But if you don't play as often, you lose some of your status. And if you've been high up in the food chain your whole life, it's certainly strange when things suddenly change. And it's also understandable that it's less fun.

Seoane was your second Swiss coach after Lucien Favre. And with Granit Xhaka, you had a prominent Swiss teammate in Mönchengladbach. What was your relationship like with them?

With Granit, I played in midfield for two years, playing in the double six position. It was a really great time, especially because we were very successful. It was the start of a great decade for Borussia Mönchengladbach. Lucien Favre was my first coach in Gladbach during my first two years. I learned so much from him because he relied heavily on me. He was a very influential figure in my career.

Favre is considered a brilliant tactician and inventor. And Granit Xhaka, also a man with football expertise?

Absolutely. Mr. Granit is world-class! He also wants to be a coach, which is fitting. He now has a very calm, collected style of play. Sure, he's still impulsive with his opponents and the referees, but it's no longer the case that he gets sent off with a yellow card or red card as often as he used to.

Do you see yourself more as an impulsive coach or as someone who analyses things objectively?

As a very, very calm person. Unless I have to shout so someone can hear me. But otherwise, I'm calm, without being unemotional. You'll never hear me say, "Now concentrate, or step on the gas."

Today, you're no longer dependent on results every day. Are you more relaxed now that you no longer have a game every three days?

I was never the type of person who was particularly bothered by that. I don't go through life more or less relaxed now. I've made peace with my time as a footballer. That was very important for my life: making peace with the biggest chapter of my life.

In the past, your diary entries always began with the phrase: “You should never forget that . . .” What will you never forget?

I'm still writing the book; it's sitting on my desk. And I already have many books in bank safe deposit boxes. Memories are all we have. That's why I'll continue writing these books until the end of my life. And keep reworking them to become more novels.