Bhfuilis soranna sorcha, ach tagais ‘nós na hoíche,
Is claochlú an ealaín, is ealaín dubh í.
A man born at the beginning of February, standing at 5’10” with no strong physique to speak of while operating
between the defensive-midfield and right-back stations. It’s no wonder I’ve been on a crash course with the love I have for Joshua Walter Kimmich.
Wish I’d known it was just our turn, being blamed for a world we had no power in,
You and I had nothin’ to show, but the best of the world in the palm of our hands
Kimmich has now played at the top level for ten years, and has seemingly never set a foot wrong across a decade of play, an unbelievable feat. Yet, he doesn’t get the credit he deserves for it. I’m fully aware of the respect he gets from his peers and, as of late, the fans, but it still isn’t close to what he deserves.
They live in ghayba as per His will: Concealed, but to return another day
Some part of me must have died, the first time that you called me ‘baby’,
And some part of me came alive, the first time that you called me ‘baby’.
Do you remember the players you first watched?
The last time it was heard aloud,
Do you remember the people you felt your first love in this sport for?
The perfect genius of our hands and mouths were shocked,
Were they not bulletproof?
To resignation as the arguing declined.
Were they not unlike anyone else?
When I was young, I used to guess;
Were they not impossibly unique?
Are there any limits to emptiness?
Were they not incapable of fault?
When was the last time?
Were they not the best to ever do it?
C’mere to me, when was the last time?
Were they not yours?
I see it every time I converse about football, specifically when comparing players, teams or just the sport itself across generations. The footballers we grow up with are canonised in our minds. There is a level of consistency and quality that they guarantee every time they step on the pitch, regardless of whether they are the ones that ultimately get the winning goal or the difference-making assist. It’s easy to pin it as nostalgia and leave it at that.
It’s more.
The evolution of football structurally and tactically into a game of pure risk has completely shifted the way teams approach the game, and it’s caused individual quality to be a lot more up-and-down from game to game as plans change, teams change and, most importantly, time changes. No longer is one fundamental game plan with tiny tweaks here and there enough to see out a season, for every top team has a million different counter-plans and contingencies, curated through countless hours spent analysing opposition weaknesses and their own shortcomings.
I heard once, it’s the comforts that make us numb.
We’d go out with no way to get home,
And we’d sleep on somebody’s floor,
And wake up feeling like a millionaire.
It only further crystallises that vision of the players of yore as these mythical figures, delivering top level performances from week to week without a dip, even if that may not be true. However, even in the chaos of top-level football as it is, there are still a handful of players that have been able to consistently deliver to their standards throughout a season. The likes of Mohamed Salah, Michael Olise, Toni Kroos and Kevin De Bruyne come to mind as examples of players in recent seasons that have had a whole year where they have just put in shift after shift, week in, week out. However, there is only one player that has done that for a whole decade. Just. One.
Turtles all the way down: Hopes and dreams weigh more than rock
Some part of me must have died, each time that you called me ‘baby’,
But some part of me stayed alive, each time that you called…
Will you miss him when it’s all over?
And though I burn, how could I fall,
When the curtains come down, will you memorialise him?
When I am lifted by every word you say to me?
Will you recall the perfection of his engineering?
If anything could fall at all, it’s the world that falls away from me.
Will you miss the magic of his craft?
You had me floating like a feather on the sea,
Or will it all fade away?
While you’re as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath.
Will his everlast make the wizardry seem insignificant?
Once, I wondered what was holding up the ground,
Will his ease on the eye make the efforts invisible?
But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down.
Will he be remembered the way he should be?
Joshua Kimmich stands as a titan of football history. From his debut in 2015 to, his years as a right-back, to his initial move to midfield, to the monolith of control in a hybrid role that he currently plies his trade as. There will never be another.
Now at the age of 30, there is still one big trophy that eludes him: the World Cup.
And trust me, no one has ever let him forget it.
As a vocal leader of both Bayern Munich and the German national team as well as being the heart of both teams on the pitch, he has of course taken on massive responsibilities, not only within the team but to the world’s judgement. Often, if not usually, Bayern and Germany’s failures are pinned upon Kimmich, because his machine-like perfection is so expected that it has become the bare minimum. Kimmich simply has to be the player with the most control in the game and subsequently the man with the most control of football in Europe, or he isn’t good enough. He must be the best in the world, or he isn’t good enough to play for this team.
Of course, when the teams succeed, he very rarely gets any credit unless he is specifically involved in the goals. Kimmich put an entire team on a leash for 90 minutes to allow the attackers to get the time and quantity of chances required to win 3-0? Yeah man, Olise’s the best winger in the world (he is). Goretzka’s box-crash was so good on that last goal.
So far from home to have a stranger call you ‘darling’,
And have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand,
In some town that just means ‘home’ to them,
With no translator left to sound, a butchered tongue still singing here above the ground.
Highlights. The biggest crime in football history. Whoever first thought you can judge a player based on highlights has done more damage to this world than the invention of the musket.
Influence. That’s what really matters. When Kimmich is on the pitch, there is no player that has more influence on the way the game goes.
Through all of the troubles, the ups and the downs, somehow, Kimmich has kept his head straight. It is unbelievable that he still has the sheer passion that he does, but he does. The man completed club football at 24, and is STILL going with somehow more to offer emotionally than he did before. This is a man who lives and breathes the sport, and we should all count ourselves cosmically lucky to not only live in the same time as him, but to have watched him grow from the scrawny 19-year-old forced to play centre-back because Pep Guardiola ran out of defenders, to the best right-back in the world, to the best midfielder in the world, to the most influential player in the world.
Do not go gentle into that good night: A letter to those who live the mythology
Some part of me must have died, the final time you called me ‘baby’,
But some part of me came alive, the final time you called me ‘baby’.
Do you remember when he first arrived?
I swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea.
Do you remember when he first won the little things?
Ignore the vastness between all that can be seen, and all that we believe,
Do you remember when he first won a big thing?
So I thought you were like an angel to me.
Do you remember when he won the biggest thing?
Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy.
Do you remember the dreams of a dynasty?
If there were scarlet flags they washed out in the mind of me.
Do you remember who stood strong as the king’s guard fell?
Where a blinding light shone on you every night, and either side of my sleep,
Do you remember the little boy from Rottweil?
Where you were held frozen like an angel to me.
Or is he only ever the man that stands in front of you?
Joshua Kimmich was 24 when he won the UEFA Champions League for Bayern Munich. He turned 30 this year, and somehow that is the only European trophy he’s gotten his hands on since. But through Bayern’s massive struggles, including Thomas Tuchel attempting to oust him from the club, he stood through it all.
‘Stood’ is an understatement. He was radiant.
Under Pep Guardiola, Kimmich developed from a teenager with no top-flight experience into an already mature ball-playing defender. Under Carlo Ancelotti, he found his stride as a creator of chaos from right-back. Under Niko Kovač, he became the orchestrator of the centre. Under Hansi Flick, he became the heart of a team that beat at unprecedented speeds. Under Julian Nagelsmann, he became the town square of the sprawling structure. Under Thomas Tuchel, he became the face of the rebellion. Under Vincent Kompany, he became the tyrant of the pitch.
Whether coaches have enjoyed his presence or not, Kimmich has performed to a ridiculous level year after year, system after system. There is simply no way to make him play a bad game. He might have an off-day once a millennium, but it’ll be a day where he just wasn’t in complete control of proceedings.
My life was a storm, since I was born, how could I fear any hurricane?
If someone asked me at the end, I’d tell them put me back in it
Darling, I would do it again.
If I could hold you for a minute, darling, I’d go through it again.
Kimmich signing a contract extension in the summer made me emotional. When I saw the post, it all came crashing down. The realisation of the magnitude of the player I have had the immense privilege to watch. If I could watch him go from 20 to 30 all over again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. If I could watch him lift the Champions League again with Bayern, I’d gamble my entire life away for it. All I pray is that as he enters his 30s, he does not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
There will never, ever be another Joshua Kimmich.
Do you know I could break beneath the weight,
Of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?
That I’d walk so far just to take,
The injury of finally knowing you.
