Thomas Müller’s moving goodbye at title party

The sun had disappeared and the sky over Fröttmaning was beginning to turn from a previously bright blue to night black by 8.51pm when Thomas Müller grabbed the gleaming silver Bundesliga trophy and climbed the fence to deliver it right into the heart of the Südkurve. To the place where they had celebrated and sung his praises so many times before, where they had shouted his name one last time with the team’s line-up, so fervently and roaringly loud that even the Seismological Central Observatory in Hanover probably felt as if a tectonic plate shift was about to occur in the foothills of the Alps. And what was to follow at Bayern seemed at least as powerful. There they were, while Müller was still climbing up to them, chanting “Müller, Müller” a thousand times again, as if they could somehow bring time and what was now inevitably to come to a standstill. But what had already run its course shortly before 6.30pm could no longer be stopped.

355th and final home game

Müller had run out of the belly of the stadium one last time to warm up. If you looked closely, you could see how every step from the catacombs up to the pitch was work for him. No matter how hard he tried not to let it happen. “Being presented with my last Bundesliga trophy in my last home game for Bayern stirs the emotions even in an old hand like me,” he revealed in an interview with fcbayern.com. And so Müller ran out into his “living room”, as he says, for his 355th and final home game with Bayern. And he ran, he passed, he dribbled and shook all the nervousness, all the emotions out of his body for the time being.

Later, when both teams were lined up waiting for kick-off, the official farewell ceremony took place. President Herbert Hainer and the board of directors with Jan-Christian Dreesen, Michael Diederich and Max Eberl presented gifts. Müller was embraced and hugged by all of them, and he embraced and hugged back. It was a warm-hearted moment in which, even as an emotionally hardened fan, you could feel for the first time right up under the stadium roof that today, 10 May 2025, would be an evening to remember forever. An evening of football with his Bayern, full of joy over the club’s 34th championship, full of pride that this team and Vincent Kompany’s coaching staff had so confidently brought the trophy back to where it belonged. But it was also an evening of melancholy and, above all, great gratitude, because a very special era was coming to an end after 25 years.

Thankfully some football first

Fortunately, there was still football to come. It was also football that saved Müller from his emotions. “Now let's play,” he called after accepting the gifts from the club. The kick-off acted like the valve on a pressure vessel that someone had now turned on and from which heavy emotions escaped, whistling and steaming. Müller ran, he directed, he passed - just as he had always done – as far as his legs would carry him. And exactly as the fans in the Südkurve had underlined in their impressive tifo beforehand: “Everything for our colours for 25 years! Thomas Müller”

It didn’t need a Müller goal

He missed his best chance after 56 minutes, but that would probably have been too cliché. And there was no need for any more Müller goals that day, even if the fans - his fans - had unceremoniously turned the well-known “Auf geht’s Bayern schieß‘ ein Tor” into “Auf geht’s Müller schieß‘ ein Tor”. As the 83rd minute ticked by, his number 25 lit up on the substitution board. Müller rested both arms on his knees and looked briefly to the ground. It was the first clear emotion of the evening. The strong, heavy armour now seemed to drop for a moment.

But Müller quickly regained his composure. He looked up at the stands, where his parents Klaudia and Gerhard were sitting, who had driven him to Säbener Straße so often 25 years ago as a young boy from their house in Pähl. To the stands, where people were now all standing up and where even the Gladbach supporters, who you could barely see, were now applauding respectfully.

The players did the same. They were all united in a gesture of affection, of recognition for all the joy that Müller had spread on the football pitches with his play. The first players embraced him, including Harry Kane, Joshua Kimmich and Leon Goretzka. Manuel Neuer, who has spent most of his professional years with him as a teammate, came running out of his goal. All the substitutes and support staff formed a guard of honour. Müller ran through it, everyone tapped him on the shoulder - he ducked through it, grinned happily, waved again, clapped his hands in all directions and only stopped when the small roof above the substitutes' bench had swallowed him up again. Müller seemed to have succeeded in doing what he had promised – actually enjoying the evening.

This farewell, those few seconds full of emotion, had probably taken as much energy as the 83 minutes of play before. When the players were called back out of the catacombs after the final whistle to collect their medals on the hastily erected stage, Müller was not only back, he came to life once again. Neuer, the captain and long-time companion, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him all the way to the front to give Müller the greatest moment of the season. And when everything was lost in the cheers, the hustle and bustle and the merriment as Müller was the very first to lift the trophy, he used this moment to climb into the heart of the Südkurve.

Full of gratitude and happiness

There, at the latest, the emotions now overwhelmed even the most loyal of the loyal. If you looked at the faces, you could see trembling lower lips, wet eyes, red cheeks. People who had to hold on to each other because what was happening before their eyes was too powerful, too big. But there were also those who just did it like Müller, who weren't sad at all, but were beaming all over their faces - full of gratitude, full of happiness to have been able to experience these years, these moments – all these moments – and also this farewell up close.

A final declaration of love

Müller now spoke into the microphone to all 75,000 who had come, talking about the “priceless feeling” of scoring a goal for them all, about all the encounters with the many people he had enjoyed. But Müller also looked to the future: “I see a lot of young, hungry players who also give their hearts to Bayern. We are in a good position.” He has always loved being the “modern gladiator, but I'm not sad. I'm looking forward to what's to come. Even if it can't be half as nice as what I had.”  Müller, who didn't actually shed any visible tears himself, didn't want to see any. “If there are any, then only positive ones,” he exclaimed. And at 8.57pm he concluded with a declaration of love, just as he had received time and time again from his Südkurve and from all the people for whose affection he expressed his heartfelt thanks. “I love you all. Take care, goodbye,” he finished.

The evening did not end in tears and sadness, thanks to the images of the beer showers, the players' children, like Kane’s shooting the ball into the goal to the cheers of the Südkurve. They were all beaming down there, dancing and cheering. And in the middle of it all, as if he’d never be gone, was Thomas Müller.

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