The Night We Conquered Europe
In the early hours of Sunday 13 August 1995, a group of us attempted to break through a door that led to the rooftop of the 50-storey Frankfurt Marriott Hotel. A precarious perch overlooking Germany’s financial capital seemed the most logical place to continue the party and polish off the contents of several mini bars. After all, the Birmingham Bulls had just conquered Europe.
The newly crowned champions of the British American Football Association had been invited to Germany at only a few days’ notice to take on the might of the Frankfurt Knights, playoff contenders in the Football League of Europe. The game was a set up. The Bulls would be shorthanded and sleep-deprived, the strains of a 14-hour journey by coach and a train beneath the English Channel making sure of that. The Bulls were lambs being sent to the slaughter, paving the way for the Knights to proclaim themselves the continent’s undisputable champions in front of a sellout home crowd, while embarrassing the English upstarts in the process.
Only things didn’t turn out that way.
The journey began at the Tennis Courts pub in Perry Barr on the north side of Birmingham. The Bulls waved a forlorn goodbye to linebacker Lloyd O’Neill, a beast of a player, whose passport had been surrendered by order of a magistrate, making overseas travel impossible.
Only minutes into the journey, the copious amounts of alcohol consumed at the Tennis Courts had an adverse effect on tight end Craig Wooldridge. No sooner had the Bulls set off than the coach toilet was rendered inoperable due to Craig vomiting uncontrollably inside the tiny cubicle. What use could a coach load of American footballers filled with beer possibly have for a toilet during a lengthy road trip anyway?
General manager Leigh Ensor had urged players to rest during the trek to Frankfurt. But the excitement of accepting the challenge laid down by the Germans, several crates of ale piled up on empty seats, and the lingering celebration of having won the BAFA crown the previous weekend ensured a party atmosphere throughout the trip.
As we approached the Channel Tunnel and a mandatory customs check, I had some bad news for Leigh. I informed him that one of our defensive linemen had traveled without a passport, adamant that he could pop over to mainland Europe without such documentation since we were all members of the EU. Not so. We devised a plan. The player in question would sit near the rear of the coach and once customs officials had inspected the papers of a teammate at the front, his passport would be stealthily passed back into the hands of the lineman. Genius. It worked too, though when I passed along the passport, I cringed when I saw it belonged to the team’s five-feet-six tall kicker and now a towering man who stood six-feet-seven tall would present it as his own.
The strange smell emanating from the back of the coach, which had become the domain of the our defensive backs, also presented a problem. We were unconvinced that their solution of hiding several pungent cigarettes in the overhead storage area would prove sufficient to avoid detection. Luckily, a nervy French customs official took one glance at the riotous scene at the back of the coach, where a group of crazy-eyed American footballers danced and sang wildly to loud music. He waved his hand dismissively in their direction before eagerly departing. We were in.
The game almost didn’t take place. The bus driver, convinced he could navigate Frankfurt without issue, drove the team to the Waldstadion, a cavernous venue built in the 1920s that was home to the Frankfurt Galaxy of the World League. The place was deserted. Wrong stadium, wrong opponent. Less than half an hour before kickoff, the Bulls finally rolled up to the correct venue in Offenbach, located some thirty minutes away. The Knights then ran out onto the field wearing black jerseys; a direct clash with the only uniform the Bulls had brought with them from England. The frustrated Knights had no choice but to switch to wearing white.
Having barely warmed up, the Bulls fell behind early and trailed 21–13 at halftime as the partisan 3,200-strong home crowd sensed they were witnessing an easy victory. The locker room was abuzz during the interval, the Bulls upset by the amount of first half trash-talking dished out by the Knights. They came out giving as good as they got in the third quarter and soon leveled the contest.
Quarterback John Riggs, who had prematurely retired the previous week after the UK championship win, drove the Bulls downfield late in the game. Kicker Andy Raffo’s field goal earned a narrow 30–28 lead. The Bulls stopped the Knights on a crucial third down, but a needless late hit out of bounds on the Bulls sideline moved the chains and gave Frankfurt a chance to win the game with a last-second field goal. They were all but guaranteed to snatch victory.
The same Bulls secondary who had scared away the customs official from the rear of the coach performed similar antics as the Knights set up to kick the decisive field goal. Paul Roberts iced Frankfurt’s kicker with a time out called at the last possible moment. Stephan Maslo then lost his nerve, and the potential game-winning kick sailed wide.
The Bulls had won!
So upset were the home grounds crew that they turned on the field sprinkler system as the defeated Knights trudged to the locker room and turned off all but one of the floodlights. The Bulls celebrated wildly, diving and sliding on the wet grass and dancing in the sprinklers to an empty stadium, bar the two Bulls supporters who had made their own way from Birmingham to Frankfurt.
Quarterback Riggs did finally retire, as did head coach Don Turner, both returning to the United States the following day, most likely with severe hangovers. The team’s other American import was smuggled back into the country at the infamous rear of the coach due to concerns that he had outstayed his visa.
The win in Frankfurt turned out to be the last hurrah for the Bulls of that era. Financial issues led to the team being demoted to the second division in the UK for the following 1996 season, unable to defend their title and denied entry to the Eurobowl tournament.
We never did make it onto the roof of the Frankfurt Marriott, as common sense prevailed, so we lived to tell the tale.
Box Score
Birmingham Bulls at Frankfurt Knights
Saturday 12 August 1995
Offenbach Stadion
Attendance: 3200
Quarter 1-2-3-4 = Final
Bulls 7-6-14-3 = 30
Knights 14-7-0-7 = 28
1st Quarter
Knights: Bob Jones run (Stephan Maslo kick) 0–7
Bulls: Mel Thomas pass from John Riggs (Andy Raffo kick) 7–7
Knights: Marcel Muench run (Stephan Maslo kick) 7–14
2nd Quarter
Bulls: Mark Cohen pass from John Riggs (Kick no good) 13–14
Knights: Bob Jones run (Stephan Maslo kick) 13–21
3rd Quarter
Bulls: Shane Brathwaite run (Pat Gregory 2-pt pass from John Riggs) 21–21
Bulls: Shane Brathwaite run (Kick no good) 27–21
4th Quarter
Knights: John Behrens run (Stephan Maslo kick) 27–28
Bulls: Andy Raffo field goal 30–28
