What happens during a new signing's medical

FC Bayern brought in three new players in the summer transfer window: João Palhinha, Michael Olise and Hiroki Ito. Before a new arrival signs his contract with the German record champions, he has to undergo a mandatory medical. What happens there exactly? What do the club doctors look for? An author of our members' magazine "51", himself an ambitious amateur footballer, underwent the examination.

I travelled to Munich for the medical and underwent the normally strictly confidential examination that every new signing has to subject themselves to before signing a contract with FC Bayern. What exactly happens there? What basic physical requirements does a professional footballer have to meet today? And how far removed from them is a recreational athlete, who hardly ever finishes a training session without a beer and aches and pains?

A normal consultation room on a Wednesday afternoon at the Barmherzige Brüder clinic in Nymphenburg - if it weren't for the framed photo on the wall of David Alaba holding up the Champions League trophy. Professor Roland Schmidt likes to point to the picture before saying to the 'new Bavarians': "Next year you'll be the one." That lightens the atmosphere. The medical is the first appointment in Munich for many new arrivals. They often come here straight from the airport and are a little nervous. Roland Schmidt is a cardiologist and consultant for internal medicine and has been part of the FC Bayern medical unit since 2012. He's regularly present at training sessions and attends every match. He looks after the players in the current squad - and every potential new signing.

Schmidt starts off with a lot of questions: Were there any special incidents in childhood, body cramps perhaps? What vaccinations are current? "I want to know as much as possible," he says. Sometimes new arrivals haven't been vaccinated against early summer tick-borne encephalitis, for example. That is then brought up to date. Bavaria is a high risk area for ticks, and that's what the medical is all about: recognising risks and preventing them. Because a lot of money is involved in a transfer these days. But also out of a duty of care: FC Bayern wants to make sure that nobody risks their health for the club.

Schmidt then listens to my heart and lungs to get a first impression. "You do sport regularly, don't you?" says the cardiologist as he listens to my heartbeat. And when I reply that I train once a week and occasionally have a match at the weekend, he says you can really tell. The pulse rate is quite low, which indicates good basic stamina levels. Schmidt concludes from this that I play in a more running-intensive position, probably in midfield, and he's right. So far so good. Now for the rest of the examination. For an ECG, I get ten electrodes stuck to different parts of my body and lie on my side on a couch. A professional player has an average resting pulse rate of between 35 and 45. Mine is 50, but that's normal for someone like me. Then the FCB internist does an ultrasound of my heart and abdomen. Schmidt rolls a lubricated transducer over my chest and abdomen and examines my internal organs on a screen. "Everything looks fine," he says in his pleasantly calm voice - and I'm genuinely relieved. Unlike the professional footballers, I don't get a check-up as standard.

Blackout during the body plethysmography

Things get a bit more dramatic during the next stage of the examination. I'm sitting in a closed glass box the size of a telephone booth, my nose is clamped shut and my lips are wrapped around a small plastic tube. From outside, I hear muffled commands such as "breathe in and out calmly" and "now breathe all the way out, keep going, keep going, keep going". And every now and then a valve suddenly closes and ensures no more air can get in or out. During the body plethysmography, the functionality of the lungs is checked. I give it my all, breathing in and out, even though I've long had the feeling there's no more air in my lungs or that I can't get any more in. But just before the end, I can't take any more. Sweat pours from my forehead and I start to black out. I ask for a break and am sure: it's over. The most unheroic moment imaginable.

I down three cups of water and come round again. What happened? Oh, it's nothing, says Roland Schmidt. I'd had a vasovagal reaction. The unusual breathing had upset my circulatory system. "That happens from time to time, even with pros." My readings were completely fine. I don't believe him and have the impression that he's just going easy on me. He skips the standard blood test, which reveals a lot about an athlete's performance. Are the organs being supplied with enough oxygen? What do I need to pay attention to in my diet? Perhaps he's worried that I might get dizzy if I see blood? And Schmidt obviously doesn't trust me to do the full exertion ECG either. In this final part of the internal specialist examination, you initially pedal at 100 watts on the exercise bike - the resistance is increased by 50 watts every two minutes. An FCB player has to maintain 300 to 400 watts (body weight times four). As I weigh as much as Harry Kane at 86 kilogrammes, I would have to maintain 350 watts for two minutes at the end. But I'm only allowed to pedal for two minutes at 100, two at 200 and two at 250. Enough to realise that I'm OK, says Schmidt. He doesn't want me to have aching muscles tomorrow. I'm a little offended and think: I could have done more. I remain silent. "In principle, everything is fine," says Schmidt. Although my heart is less efficient than that of a professional athlete. With competitive athletes, the pulse rate increases later and more slowly with increased exertion and normalises again more quickly after the exertion ends.

We continue with part two of the medical. It takes place in Professor Peter Ueblacker's examination room. The orthopaedic surgeon shares a practice at Säbener Straße with Doctor Jochen Hahne, FC Bayern's third team doctor. Ueblacker and Hahne are responsible for examining the joints, bones and muscles of new signings and localising potential weak points. Have all known injuries healed well? Are there any hidden problem areas? If they discover anything, they inform board member for sport Max Eberl and sporting director Christoph Freund. This can lead to contractual details being amended - or, in extreme cases, to the transfer falling through. But above all, it's about prevention, he explains. Athletics coaches and physiotherapists should know from the outset in which areas they should work particularly hard with new players in order to prevent injuries.

First Ueblacker examines me while I'm standing up, then I lie down on the couch. While he probes my joints and muscles, he performs a few contortions with me. He gives instructions such as "tense", "lift" or "relax". The results are initially pleasing: hip rotation is exceptionally good and I can pull my legs surprisingly far towards me when they are fully extended. My hamstring muscles, the number one area of injury, are also intact. However, he pauses for a bit too long on my knee: "It feels like fluid has built up here, you need to take a closer look at the cartilage." And as expected, he's also suspicious of my right ankle. "Did you ever have any problems there?" he asks as he bends it back and forth.

I decide to tell the truth: I played handball for a long time and once a piece of cartilage and bone came loose during a tussle. It meant the end of my career in competitive sport. After many stabilisation sessions on the wobble board, I'm still good enough for veteran's football. But for professional football? Well, then. The nice thing is that Ueblacker doesn't make that too clear to me. He would first have to push me into the MRI tube in the next room. New signings are scanned there for an hour and a half at the end of the medical. It's an opportunity for the doctors to take a closer look at the problem areas they've detected and make a precise diagnosis. But it's just after 7pm and Professor Martin Mack, the radiologist at FC Bayern, has already shut down the equipment. Ueblacker has no choice but to tell me that "everything is actually quite okay". He could only tell Eberl and Freund that my joints pose a risk.

It's hard to believe, but after a three-and-a-half-hour examination, neither he nor Roland Schmidt gave me a clear reason why I wouldn't be able to play professional football. Purely physical, mind you. My talent wasn't assessed. And of course, there were signs of certain fitness deficits. But if FC Bayern were interested, I'd be prepared to work hard on it. All it would take is a phone call.

Photos: Daniel Delang

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