Marc Kosicke and the DFB Governance Vacuum: When Personal Trust Replaces Institutional Control

Three documents. Three names. One person.

Bernd Neuendorf, president of the German Football Association (DFB), calls Marc Kosicke an "external employee." The DFB, in a separate statement, calls him an "external adviser." And Jürgen Klopp — who has just taken the head coach role for the German national team — introduces his close friend with a strange title found in no organizational chart in German football: "assistant coach for strategy, development and innovation."

Three descriptions. Three authoritative sources. Not one point of agreement. In football, people argue about data, about tactics, about the value of a contract. But when the three most weighty voices in a football nation like Germany cannot agree on what one person is actually doing in the building, the problem is no longer that person. The problem is the system that allowed the situation to exist.

I have followed German football for more than three decades, since the days I sat at the Newark Advertiser, retyping Bundesliga lines on an old typewriter in a cold newsroom. Back then, the Germans were famous for an almost obsessive neatness in organization. They would never let something like this happen. The Kosicke story reminds me of what I always tell younger colleagues: football does not die from defeats on the pitch; football dies from administrative gaps that nobody bothers to document.

This is not a tactical story. It is a governance story — and it is more serious than any defeat on grass.

Context: A close friend walks into the building of power

To understand why this affair has triggered a wave of reaction in Germany, it must be placed in its proper context. Klopp took over the national team at the hardest moment for German football since the World Cup débâcle of 2026. After years lost in an identity crisis, the DFB chose to hand the key to the man regarded as the soul of modern German football, the man who lifted Borussia Dortmund and Liverpool to the summit through emotional commitment, through an energy that cannot be copied.

But Klopp did not come alone.

Marc Kosicke came with him. The relationship between the two dates back to the early 2000s, when they worked inside the Nike system — a detail I consider more important than its surface appearance, because it shows a bond built over nearly two decades, not a job arrangement made in a few months. Kosicke is the long-standing companion Klopp trusts utterly. He and Klopp, in our English phrase, belong to each other — not contractually, but historically.

The problem begins here.

When Klopp brought Kosicke into the DFB, a process that should have been clear was anything but. The DFB supervisory board — the body that should approve and oversee every senior personnel position — received no detailed information about Kosicke's exact responsibilities. This is the first point at which any governance analyst must pause. A national football association's supervisory board is not a volunteer group. It is a mechanism for checking power. Its being bypassed in a personnel appointment directly tied to the national team head coach is a serious incident at the very first layer of analysis.

And from here, the story begins to move into the grey zones that I believe are the core of the affair.

The conflict-of-interest cluster: Onside Sports, Projekt b and projectFIVE

What makes the Kosicke story different from ordinary personnel noise is his business portfolio. This is not a man who came to the DFB only to hold a tactical advisory brief. Kosicke brought a whole corporate network with direct ties to the very functions the DFB runs.

Three assets must be named:

First, Onside Sports GmbH. This is a company specializing in organizing friendly matches and training camps. Kosicke is still a shareholder there. Let me put that number into the context it needs: an adviser to the German national team is still a shareholder in a business that organizes friendly matches. Friendly matches. The very kind of game the German national team plays several times a year, in cities around the world, with broadcasting contracts negotiated at federation level. If you cannot see the functional overlap between Onside Sports and the DFB's match-logistics function, you are probably reading too fast.

Second, Projekt b. This is a company Kosicke founded, specializing in managing sporting directors and coaches. And according to reporting from Süddeutsche Zeitung, Kosicke's links to this company were — allegedly — not disclosed to the DFB. This is the heaviest detail in the story. It is not a business problem. It is a transparency problem. In any governance framework of a sports organization at continental federation level or above, material commercial interests of senior personnel must be declared and must trigger a recusal mechanism from related decisions. This is not something I invented. It is a basic principle.

Projekt b manages sporting directors and coaches. The DFB is one of the largest employers in that market. That is a potential conflict-of-interest channel in almost textbook form.

Third, projectFIVE. This is a marketing agency in which Kosicke once held a stake. He says he has had "no shares there for a year and a half." But one thing deserves notice: the exit from projectFIVE, if Kosicke's account is accurate, may coincide in time with the period he began taking up his role at the DFB. That coincidence of timing, speculation though it is, suggests some awareness of public optics. I cannot be sure, but I note it.

Three assets. Two fields that touch the DFB directly: friendly-match logistics and the senior personnel market. In finance, people call this a "conflict-of-interest cluster." In football, people usually call it by a simpler word: trouble.

The transparency gap: The most worrying part is not the money

Among all the published details, what worries me most is not the existence of the businesses themselves. Businesspeople hold stakes in many companies; that is normal. What worries me is the information gap.

Kosicke defends himself with the argument that he now focuses "exclusively on advising the DFB." But that argument does not resolve the issue. He remains a shareholder in Onside Sports. He still runs Projekt b. Those interests are current, not historical. An active adviser with an active corporate network cannot free himself from the conflict question by saying he spends his time at the DFB.

Especially when the DFB has recorded a notable influence mechanism: according to Süddeutsche Zeitung, Kosicke is said to have "open doors all the way up to my presidential office." Open doors all the way to the president. Not to a department. Not to a sporting-director's office. All the way to the president's office.

A role not clearly defined, with no written mandate, yet with access at the highest level of the organization. This is a classic power paradox in leaked governance cases: the less formal the definition, the more informal the influence. This is precisely the point governance analysis calls the "founder's confidant gap." Personal trust replaces the control system. Loyalty replaces the institutional self-defense mechanism.

And this is what I want to say plainly: in modern football, personal trust is a precious quality in players and coaches, but at the governance layer, it is a systemic risk.

I write against the wind, but my heart is never against football. And precisely because I love German football — the football I learned to respect from the days when Franz Beckenbauer was at his peak — I must say this structure cannot survive in a serious national federation.

Pressure from two sides: When Uli Hoeneß enters the battle

In any governance crisis in German football, people always wait to see what Uli Hoeneß will say. This time, he did not disappoint. He called the DFB situation a "friendly takeover" — a phrase accurate to the point of discomfort, because it puts a finger exactly on the issue: a group of people from outside the DFB building are in control of important decisions, through Klopp's pathway.

I value Hoeneß's intervention here, though I know it comes from his own interest in controlling the balance of power in German football. Hoeneß is the one who said out loud what DFB leadership was trying to keep quiet. When a former president of Germany's biggest club speaks publicly, the story can no longer sink into internal meetings.

The DFB responded by speaking of "growing irritation" internally. Growing irritation. This is the administrative term organizations use when they do not want to name a thing by its real name. Growing irritation means DFB staff — people who have worked there for decades — are watching a newcomer, without a clear title, without a transparent recruitment process, walk straight to the presidential office while they must climb every bureaucratic step. Anyone who has worked in a large organization understands what that irritation quickly turns into.

Pressure is distributed very asymmetrically in this affair. Klopp retains a large share of public goodwill — as he himself says, he still receives "a bit of the benefit of the doubt" from fans. Kosicke does not. Kosicke is viewed more critically because his role simply did not exist before he arrived. A new title with no precedent is a dangerous support for any public figure.

There is something structurally interesting here: the pressure does not come from results on the pitch. It comes from the disclosures themselves. Each new piece of information about Onside Sports or Projekt b starts a new cycle of pressure. This is self-sustaining pressure, independent of any match. It can only end in two ways: either full disclosure and structural reform, or match results strong enough to drown the issue.

Klopp, the "full-control" model and the governance price

At a deeper layer, the Kosicke affair exposes a trend I have seen repeated many times in elite football: the full-control head coach model being reinstalled inside an institution never designed to hand full power to any individual.

Klopp could bring a close friend into the DFB — this shows his negotiating power when taking the head coach role. No ordinary coach could do that. The DFB allowing it is a structural concession: they gave up control of the personnel layer around him to get the signature of the coach they craved most.

But football history teaches a clear lesson: structural concessions are easily reclaimed under pressure. The moment the DFB supervisory board starts questioning Kosicke's disclosure mechanism, tension between coach and leadership is unavoidable. This is a slow-burning tension, not one that explodes outward immediately, but it accumulates over time and can rupture at the worst possible moment — usually after a big defeat.

I have seen a similar case somewhere in European football. Not in Germany. But the basic structure was the same: the coach's confidant placed into the organization with a vague role, his business interests not fully disclosed, and then, when results failed at the critical moment, the whole structure collapsed. I cannot be sure whether the DFB will follow that path, but the structural signals point in the same direction.

Three role labels from three authoritative sources is a red flag at the highest level. In governance, inconsistency of definition is not harmless confusion. It is a signal that no written mandate exists. And without a written mandate, without clear responsibility boundaries, without a recusal mechanism from conflicting decisions, there is nothing to protect either the organization or the individual from further accusations.

The contrarian view: Perhaps I am exaggerating

I always ask myself whether I am looking at things through the lens of a man who has seen too many governance crises. At 56, after more than forty years observing this industry, there is a real risk that I see patterns everywhere — when sometimes it is only ordinary situations inflated by people with an interest in inflating them.

Before continuing, let me pose the questions a defender of Kosicke would pose.

First question: Does Onside Sports really create a conflict of interest, or is it simply a normal business that happens to overlap in field with the DFB? In the corporate world, companies in the same field interact all the time without anyone accusing anyone of conflict of interest. Perhaps this is just a formal coincidence that the press is over-exploiting.

Second question: Does Projekt b really create a self-dealing channel, when Kosicke states he focuses "exclusively" on the DFB? Running a company in the past and not taking part in daily operations now is not the same as using a DFB position to benefit that company. The legal and factual distinction matters.

Third question, and perhaps the most important: Is the reported "growing irritation" a universal structural reaction from any organization when a newcomer arrives in a role with no precedent, or is it especially worrying in this case? Any organization experiences discomfort when an outside element is inserted. That does not automatically mean something is wrong with governance.

And this is what I must honestly admit: I have no evidence of wrongdoing here. No proven rule violation. No criminal charge filed. All we have is a chain of structurally suspicious events: an unclear role, a deep personal relationship, a portfolio of business interests tied to the DFB's functional field, and an information gap in the disclosure process.

The difference between "there is a conflict of interest" and "there is an unmanaged risk of conflict of interest" is legally important. In Kosicke's case, nothing of the first kind has been proven.

But the distance between what can be proven and what can damage reputation is where governance analysis becomes most complex. In public organizations, the perception of conflict of interest is often more damaging than actual conflict of interest. And in Kosicke's case, perception has been seriously damaged.

I must also ask myself: was the DFB allowing Kosicke in really such a great structural concession as I analyzed, or is it simply normal practice in modern football — where elite coaches always bring their own teams? In many European football systems, this causes no controversy. Why does it here?

The answer may lie in the particular governance culture of German football — where transparency and member participation in federation structures have a long tradition. But it may also lie in something simpler: Kosicke's personal issues are creating a political problem the DFB was unprepared to handle.

There are stars that only burn bright where they are loved, not where the lights are brightest. Kosicke is inside a brightly lit building of German media — and the question is whether he belongs there.

Risk mapping and possible scenarios

If I must draw a risk map of this affair, here is how I frame it.

Highest-consequence risk is the conflict-of-interest cluster: Onside Sports combined with Projekt b, operating behind a role with presidential-office access. Even without wrongdoing, the mere perception of conflict is damaging. And that damage cannot be repaired by on-pitch results.

Highest-likelihood risk is a formal demand from the supervisory board or from media pressure, for full disclosure and formalization of Kosicke's role. This is the central scenario I assess as most feasible in the medium term.

Moderate personnel risk: the chance Kosicke is removed entirely is not high, because Klopp retains goodwill and would object. A more feasible scenario is a restricted or redefined role with a formal written mandate and a recusal protocol from conflicting decisions.

Three possible scenarios:

Worst case: The DFB supervisory board, under pressure from Hoeneß and media, formally restricts or terminates Kosicke's role, or forces divestment from Onside Sports and Projekt b. This would damage the reputation of Neuendorf's leadership for inadequate vetting before appointment.

Central case: Role redefined and formalized with a clear written mandate and disclosure/recusal protocol. No exit, but tighter boundaries. This is the most politically rational outcome.

Optimistic case: Full disclosure completed, perceived conflicts "cured," and the affair fades once on-pitch results validate the Klopp project. Least likely, because it requires both strong results and media silence.

I do not write to be agreed with. I write to wake a sleeping question. And that question is: how long can a national football system managed by personal trust rather than control systems survive before a small incident becomes a major crisis?

Long-term impact and industry transmission

The Kosicke story is not just a DFB internal matter. It can transmit across the whole football ecosystem at several levels.

At the level of the agent and representation ecosystem, Projekt b manages sporting directors and coaches — precisely the personnel positions the DFB and German clubs regularly hire. If the issue is unresolved, it could undermine confidence in the integrity of Germany's senior personnel market. That indirect impact is real.

At the level of match logistics, Onside Sports organizes friendly matches and training camps — directly overlapping with the DFB's match-organization function. This is a latent procurement-conflict channel should the DFB ever procure match-organization services from any company linked to Kosicke.

At the level of the national-team ecosystem, this controversy injects off-pitch noise into the earliest phase of a new cycle. I have no evidence of player impact, but in my experience of following matches, instability at the governance layer always finds a way to seep down to the professional layer — whether through delays in personnel decisions, through distraction in the coaching staff, or simply through the questions players hear from the press every day.

And at the level of precedent, if this affair is resolved with no structural change, it sets a precedent that external confidants can be placed into an organization without adequate vetting. Other European federations are certainly watching.

I once wrote of the night South Korea beat Germany at the 2026 World Cup: "South Korea beat Germany, the café fell silent, and I cried for the immortality of football." That was a moment when German football saw itself in the mirror and disliked what it saw. The Kosicke affair carries no such emotion. It produces no tears. It produces questions about documents, about process, about what was written down and what was left blank.

But sometimes the affairs that produce no tears do more lasting damage. Tears on the keyboard are as salty as tears on the pitch, but a wound from a governance gap does not heal like a defeat.

What to watch

Over the coming months, here are the signals I will watch to judge the affair's direction.

First, the formal response of the DFB supervisory board. If the board calls a formal meeting on Kosicke's role, pressure has hit structural threshold. If they stay silent, DFB leadership has successfully contained damage.

Second, the timing and nature of Germany's first matches under Klopp. If results come strong and fast, the Kosicke story can be absorbed into a larger "Klopp knows what he's doing" narrative. If results are slow, the governance story becomes a stick to beat the new coaching regime.

Third, whether further disclosures emerge from Süddeutsche Zeitung or other outlets. If the original investigation is part of a broader series on DFB governance, we may see more disclosures in coming weeks. If it ends here, the affair could settle quickly.

Fourth, the reaction of Bundesliga clubs whose coaches or sporting directors are represented by Projekt b. If those clubs begin publicly questioning conflicts of interest, pressure rises significantly.

And the last thing I will watch: whether Kosicke voluntarily discloses all his business interests and commits to recusing himself from conflicting decisions. This is the simplest step he could take to defuse the crisis. Whether he does so will say much about the true nature of the role he holds.

Final thoughts

I have written for forty years about football. I have written about legendary matches, about great players, about moments that made whole stadiums hold their breath. I have written in tears, in anger, in wonder. But most of what I wrote in those forty years was about things nobody sees: administrative decisions, closed meetings, written mandates never published.

The Marc Kosicke affair is a perfect example of why the unseen matters so much. On the pitch, everything is transparent — what minute, who scored, what the score was. But behind it, in the DFB office buildings where the real decisions are made, transparency is a luxury. And it is that lack of transparency — not any specific wrongdoing — that I believe will define this story over the long term.

What is sad is that the affair was preventable. If the DFB had a standard senior-personnel vetting process, if Kosicke had been required to declare all business interests before taking the role, if his role had been clearly defined from the outset — this story would not exist. What we are seeing now is the consequence of a process gap that existed beforehand and was simply waiting for someone to walk through.

Something makes it impossible for me not to connect this affair with my own experience covering Korean football for more than two decades. Koreans have a hard-to-translate word: "" (jeong) — a feeling of attachment built over time, through living together, through companionship. It is not friendship in the Western sense. It is a form of belonging. The relationship between Klopp and Kosicke, I believe, has a portion of that jeong.

But in institutional governance, jeong is not a control mechanism. It can be the foundation of trust, but it cannot be a substitute for transparency. This is the hardest lesson any organization must learn: personal feeling is material for culture, but not material for systems.

I cannot be sure where this affair will end. It may dissolve when Germany wins a big match. It may become one of the governance crises recorded in a textbook. It may settle quietly and leave a small, unnoticed precedent about how seriously national federations must vet external advisers.

What I know for certain is this: football at the highest level has become a business too complex to run on personal trust alone. National federations represent millions of fans, billions of euros in assets, and a cultural heritage beyond valuation. They cannot be run like a family club.

And that, perhaps, is the greatest lesson the Marc Kosicke affair leaves behind: when football becomes an industry, governance must grow up faster than any player.