Worn In the DDR – A Brief Kit History of the German Democratic Republic

A Footnote

In 1982, whilst holidaying with my parents in Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife, I happened across a market just off the main promenade. One of the traders was selling a basketful of footie shirts from a variety of insanely random countries.  
There was an Argentina shirt, a Soviet one and – to my boyish delight – an East German top all selling at around the 2000 peseta mark; about a tenner in Pound Sterling.  
I’d had a penchant for all things East German since I’d espied their players resplendent in national garb featured in Panini’s 1978 World Cup sticker album. They hadn’t qualified. Their section was at the back of the book along with all the other non-qualifying failures, alongside – it has to be said - England. 
In my little man-purse, I’d got about 30 quid in spends, so I went and found my stepdad on the beach and shared my discovery with him. 
On examining the shirts, he said, ‘You’re not buying any of THEM!’ 
‘Why not?’ I opined in shock. 
‘Because we’ve just been at war with Argentina, and Russia and East Germany are our enemies’. 
So, they remained in a basket at the market just because of some poxy wars. 
I didn’t care about any of that. I just liked the shirts.

 
1950-1990 – The National Team 
 
Many bad things could be said about the German Democratic Republic. The disbanded communist state that served as a physical buffer between West and East for 40 years, consigned to the historical boneyard long-since - unwept, unhonoured and unsung - was a failed socialist experiment risen from a post-war era when the world needed something different. But not that kind of different. 
As an apolitical blog-site interested only in the aesthetics and joyous irreverence of football kits and memorabilia, we will swerve far clear of the bad stuff and try to concentrate primarily on the good. 
I had an East German friend once. In writing this piece, I recalled a conversation we had back in the late-90’s. ‘What were the great things about the DDR?’ 
Her list included the national anthem; ‘Auferstanden aus Ruinen’/’Risen from Ruins’ (I have to agree – it’s a banger, trust me), breast milk donations – every town in East Germany had a breast milk bank: great if you were an under-nourished infant, communal nudism (ooh er!) and the ‘Ossi’ sense of humour. 
East German joke: Why are there no bank robberies in the DDR? Because you have to wait twelve years for a getaway car. 
Okay, so the jury’s out on the ‘Ossi’ sense of humour, but the deceased nation evidently had its merits. One of the ‘great things’ my friend failed to mention were the football kits and the stories behind them – a subject we at Wordy will do our utmost to address.

So here goes… 
In 1950, the East German Sports Committee (DS); a precursor to the DFV (Deutscher Fussball Verband der DDR) – the East German FA – formed in 1958, were in a quandary. 
Seeking sporting autonomy from the ‘other Germany’, the DS craved a national football team kit that was in-tune with the fledgling state’s new leftist identity. 
Initially, the Committee opted for socialist-friendly red, but met with opposition from their ideological ‘bruder’ further east, the Soviet Union, who’d bagzied the colour in the 1920’s and had been – quite frankly – rocking it ever since. 
‘Schwarz und Weiss’; another possibility, was flagrantly synonymous with their western neighbours, the BRD – West Germany. It also had strong connotations that harked back to both Germany’s Nazi and their imperialist Prussian past – a ‘no-no’ for any self-respecting, rouge-dipped Marxist. 
Eventually, the DS settled on an azure blue. It was a hue that fit, blue was the colour of the SED (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands); the ruling regime of the DDR, and the chosen hue of the FDJ (Freie Deutsche Jugend); the republic’s politically-active youth movement. 
The DDR – ‘Weltmeister der Freundschaftsspiele’ (‘World Champion in Friendly Games’ – catchy!) – debuted their new national colours during a friendly international versus Poland in Warsaw in September 1952 and the kit; blue shirts with white trim featuring the state emblem – gules, hammer and compass, white shorts and blue socks, would remain a constant until 1990. 
In the spirit of self-reliance; a characteristic that the SED were initially keen to promote, the kits were made in state owned factories – exclusively East German creations – but all that was about to change. 

Strapped for cash by the late-70’s, the SED – and regimes of neighbouring East Bloc nations - sought western money to keep their ailing socialist experiment financially afloat. For western entrepreneurs, it signalled an opportunity; a chance to do business in the previously door-bolted east.  
Soon, western corporate behemoths were unleashing their products on an unexpectant new audience, with one world-recognised brand pitching camp in Muscovite sports-retail outlets in time for the 1980 Olympics. 
Adidas; a wholly West German entity, were extremely proactive in their pursuit of ‘Eastern Contracts’. Eastern Europe presented terrific potential for the inexpensive outsourced manufacturing of sportswear and accessories with factories and workshops established in Yugoslavia, Hungary, Bulgaria and the Soviet Union apace. 
By the early-80’s, Adidas had struck a deal with the DFV to supply the DDR national football team with training and match gear offering financial incentives for their endorsement. The agreement made sense, the DFV wanted their footballers to succeed; kitting them in high quality, recognisably branded sportswear that they would wear with pride seemed like an acceptable ideological compromise. It was a partnership that continued through the following decade and produced some of the most memorable football jerseys of the 1980’s. 
By 1982, all of the East Bloc football federations had negotiated kit deals with Adidas; Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Hungary, Romania, USSR and Albania. Everyone was wearing the Trefoil. 
It was a triumph of anti-politik marketing and manufacture. In remaining ambivalent to politics whilst establishing trade links in a disparate political climate, Adidas became pioneers of East/West trade – and they created some absolutely beautiful football jerseys along the way. 
 
– It was a very good year… 
 
Early-to-mid 1970’s was boom-time in East Germany. Citizens of the DDR enjoyed a standard of living superior to other East Bloc nations - availability of consumer goods, low-rent social housing, excellent health and childcare options, wage increases – with the country establishing itself in the Top 10 of the most stable world economies. 
This mood of goodwill pervaded all areas of society, including the sporting arena. DDR had performed favourably at the 1972 Munich Olympics finishing third in the medals table behind the superpowers of USSR and USA, but ahead of their West German neighbours. The East German Olympic football team even had the temerity to eliminate the West Germans winning a Group 1 qualifier 3-2 at the Olympiastadion in front of 80,000 disbelieving ‘Wessi’ fans – the lesser remembered of two competitive East-West football encounters. 
The DFV embarked upon the 1973/74 season in a state heightened expectation. Football was establishing itself as a potent promotional tool in the advancement of the state. What the SED were screaming out for were teams who could transpose their heady, socialist ideals globally via the vehicle of football. Iconic teams; instantly recognisable as matriarchs of the Marxist-Leninist cause. And boy, were their prayers about to be answered. 
When Heinz Krugel accepted the post of Head Coach of the newly-formed, second-tier 1.FC Magdeburg in 1966, the former DDR manager (1959-1961) couldn’t; even in his wildest imaginings, have anticipated the magnitude of the club’s journey. 
Immediate promotion was preceded by third-place finishes in 1968 and 1969 culminating in a 4-0 FDGB Pokalfinale victory against FC Karl-Marx-Stadt in June ’69. 

The 70’s heralded a golden era for Der Club, capturing the 1972 DDR Oberliga title – their first – fielding the youngest championship-winning squad in history; an average of 23 years old, and drawing in attendances close to 25,000 for home games at the Ernst-Grube Stadion. A 3-2 cup win the following season against FC Lokomotive Leipzig in Dessau qualified FCM for the 1973/74 edition of the European Cup Winners Cup.  
1974 proved the pinnacle of Magdeburg’s – and the DDR’s – footballing history. As Der Club were racking up the wins in yet another title-conquering season, their key players; Jurgen Pommerenke, Jurgen Sparwasser, Wolfgang Seguin and Martin Hoffman, were making vital contributions to a campaign that took the DDR to the very brink of World Cup qualification. 
Seven days prior to DDR’s vital 2-0 Group 4 World Cup qualification win over Romania in Leipzig on September 26th 1973, Magdeburg had taken their first pensive steps on a path to Euro-glory drawing a First Round, First Leg tie 0-0 with NAC Breda in front of 6,000 people at a sparsely-populated De Kuip Stadion, Rotterdam. In the ultimate twist of fate, they would return to the same stadium barely seven months later and win the trophy before a crowd that was, unbelievably, smaller than the NAC tie. 
With their domestic title sewn up and the DDR’s qualification for the 1974 World Cup confirmed with a 4-1 away victory against Albania the previous November, Magdeburg – and their Stasi-approved legion of 200 fans – descended upon Rotterdam on May 8th 1974. 
Their opponents in Rotterdam were Milan – holders and two-times winners of the European Cup Winners Cup and European Cup, eight-times Scudetto winners – managed by the wily, tactically astute Giovanni Trapattoni; a David v Goliath tussle manifest. 
The SED’s yearning for a socialist sporting icon was met in Rotterdam. Magdeburg; long-sleeved white shirts with single vertical deep-blue stripe, deep-blue shorts and white socks were an enigma – even in direct correlation with the seminal red and black stripes of the Rossoneri. An exciting, new European footballing entity; full of verve and creativity, wearing intensely beautiful outfits were waiting in the wings. History was begging to be made. And before a crowd barely tickling the 5,000 mark, it was. 
Arguably the better side pre-break, Milan were dealt a body-blow three minutes before halftime from which they failed to recover; Detlef Raugust’s energetic run and cross was scythed past Pierluigi Pizzaballa in the Milan goal by his own centre-back, Enrico Lanzi. 
Milanese indignation at conceding negated any sniff of a revival. When Wolfgang Seguin latched onto Axel Tyll’s cross-field pass and smashed home the second from the acutest of angles with fifteen minutes remaining no-one could say that it hadn’t been coming. Heinz Krugel’s team – all born within 30 miles of Magdeburg; an accomplishment only matched by Celtic in 1967 – became the first; and the last, East German European champions.  
Magdeburg victory was greeted enthusiastically by SED General Secretary, Erich Honecker, wishing his countrymen ‘continued success’ – an allusion to the forthcoming World Cup in West Germany, perhaps. 

On the 22nd of June; six weeks later, the ‘continued success’ Honecker craved bore further fruit. The DDR; drawn in the same group as West Germany, faced off against their ideological and geographical neighbours at the Volksparkstadion, Hamburg – ‘Das Bruderduell’. 
Both sides looked magnificent in the line-up; nervous, focused, adverse anthems belted out with fire and fervour, ready to give their all for a country unified in language and culture yet divided by ideals. It’s with a sense of historical distance; a feeling of absence – that something has been forever lost – that an observer reflects on the images from the BRDDDR game of 1974. 
For the amateur footballers of the DDR and the regime that steered their country to eventual oblivion, these victories – small in hindsight – were all-important; part of the ethical and moralistic warfare that kept Europe in a state of segregation for four decades. 
For those who don’t know, the East Germans – donned in majestic, iconic azure blue jerseys, white shorts and blue socks – won the battle 1-0 courtesy of a single Jurgen Sparwasser breakaway goal with thirteen minutes remaining. The West Germans went on to win the tournament beating Holland in the Final 2-1. 
What truly outlives the remote, tit-for-tat stand-offery of Cold War bombast are the football kits themselves. Magdeburg and the DDR would’ve still looked the bollocks in their ensembles had they been plying their trade in 1974 Northern Premier League, the Midland Combination Division Two or on the muddied, puddled turf of Hackney Marshes. 
There’s an egalitarianism; a personal freedom of choice, in buying and owning a football shirt. It’s all about beauty, aesthetics and form. 
Maybe that’s what democracy is; the right to wear a shirt – regardless of its origin – simply because it looks the business.

Phil Harrison is the author of Inside the Hermit Kingdom: Football Stories from Stalinist Albania and Worst Game Ever - Journeys into the Agonies of Defeat (Pitch Publishing). Phil has previously written and co-edited for KIT Magazine, 3Retro, Football Heritage and written articles in collaboration with the TOFFS and Admiral marketing teams. His work has also featured in The Guardian and Daily Mail.

He lives and works in Birmingham, England.

With a comprehensive knowledge of East European, Greek and British football, Phil is also the authoritative host of the Fussball Geekz podcast and has guested on numerous other podcasts.

Fussball Geekz social platforms can be accessed via X, Bluesky, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube and Spotify here.