When Wolfgang Funkel collapsed and Ronald Koeman opened his arms, the entire stadium fell silent.

Football thrives on illusions. On the wishful thinking that David will occasionally give Goliath such a kick in the shin that he stumbles and falls. But these illusions need to be fed from time to time, otherwise they wither. When Bayern Munich wins eleven out of twelve possible championships, it doesn't help us believe in the unpredictability of this sport.

My dream of professional football was shattered on Wednesday, November 6, 1991. 1. FC Kaiserslautern faced FC Barcelona in the second round of the European Cup. On paper, it was a clear-cut match. The surprise German champions seemed to have no chance against the star-studded Spanish team, coached by Johan Cruyff .

How could no-names like Frank Lelle, Marcel Witeczek, Oliver Schäfer, and Guido Hoffmann have even the slightest chance against a team comprised of top players from various countries, from goalkeeper to winger! They had the Bulgarian Hristo Stoichkov, the Dane Michael Laudrup, and the Dutchman Ronald Koeman, plus half of the Spanish national team, including a certain Pep Guardiola, who was still playing football himself at the time. To make matters worse, Lautern's only star player besides Stefan Kuntz was missing: libero Miroslav Kadlec, who usually held the defense together.

1. FCK suffered an unfortunate 2-0 loss in the first leg. In the return match at the Betzenberg, which at the time was still a claustrophobic fortress where referees and opposing teams were regularly worn down, Lautern turned things around. After 89 minutes, the score was 3-0 for the Palatinate side. The favorites teetered on the brink.

In the 90th minute, José Mari Bakero, also a Spanish international, headed in the 1-3 goal. More than just a consolation goal. Kaiserslautern was eliminated on away goals. Barcelona advanced and won the European Cup a few months later. The Champions League was introduced the following season.

I've never seen the Betzenberg as quiet as it was after Spain's goal. It wasn't just the horror of the last-minute knockout. The shock went deeper. Football fans are usually world champions at finding and inventing explanations for why the hoped-for victory didn't materialize. Sometimes they blame it on the referee's poor eyesight, who wasn't able to recognize a foul in the opponent's penalty area. Sometimes they curse the posts and crossbar that got in the way of the goal. And often enough they blame their own team's inability to put the ball in the other net for the failure.

So far, the following books have been published in this series: Tumb is the hope (Schalke 04) by Alfons Huckebrink Sorry, model boy (Arminia Bielefeld) by Fritz Tietz Smooth as a Weser eel (Paris Saint-Germain) by Christian Klemm

But in this particular case, things were different. Kaiserslautern had dominated the game. The underdogs had played themselves into a frenzy that Barcelona had no answer to. This was great football, and it deserved only one winner: FCK. David had shown Goliath what he had to do – until the 89th minute. There was no explanation for the fatal goal conceded. It came out of nowhere, was unfair, cruel, and brutal.

Of course, life went on after that. In pursuit of a sense of achievement, we drove to Bremen for the DFB Cup match and witnessed Lautern's 2-0 defeat – this time deservedly so. We watched a dismal 0-0 draw in Bochum. And at some point, we dared to go back to the Betzenberg. But even the victories felt different now. Barcelona had made us lose our childhood faith in football. Is there anything worse?

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