National team player Tim Borowski looked moodily into the teeming stands as fans eager to make it to the World Cup final in the German capital sang: “Berlin, Berlin, we’re going to Berlin.” But the cheering made him forget for a second that his presence on the edge of the pitch during the first-round game against Poland was little more than symbolic.

The midfielder from Bremen wore a blue vest over the white jersey that marked him as a substitute player. The short piece of cloth looked like a child’s bib and, sitting on the bench, he felt he was about as useful as a babe in a high chair.

But then he caught the wave of enthusiasm in the Dortmund stadium as his number was called and he became part of a team that, with a 1-0 victory over Poland, wrangled itself into the final sixteen. Last week the team had solidified into a family -- the Klinsmanns. The drama of the match against Poland brushed off any remaining doubts of the new coach’s unorthodox style that has been so heavily criticized in Germany .

It was almost as if Klinsmann’s film director Urs Siegenthaler -- who conscientiously edits all game day and training videos for analysis with the team -- had scripted the Poland game to win over the last skeptics. With these types of victories, Klinsmann told foreign reporters, “trust grows from game to game.” But he didn’t just mean within the team, he also meant everyone’s confidence in him.

With his southern German roots hanging on his tongue, the county’s top football manager has seemed at times a religious zealot, preaching endlessly for the need of a lightning-fast offense, exceptional physical conditioning and a positive spirit. And he finally saw his methods bearing fruit when he overheard defenseman Philipp Lahm toeing the line by confessing, “Fitness is very important in football.” At the same time, complaints over the intense workouts were waning.

For anyone who wasn’t yet on board, Klinsmann made it clear where he wanted the “vital” portions of his training to take hold: “in the mind.” The key, he says, is “in the attitude.”

Players can apparently be immunized to heat and pain by the belief that a team that has faith in itself is better than a collection of professionals fumbling over the ball. “We enjoy playing at 30 degrees,” he said, noting “an unbelievable energy.” He’s serious. And nobody contradicts him.

A new attitude

And this I’m-OK-You’re-OK attitude is here to stay -- at least until the next game. Team spirit ends when individual players begin contemplating their market value. Even more so when the first dreams of a championship match appear -- after all, the glory only goes to those who actually played.

In a conference room one day, Tim Borowski groused in front of a handful of journalists about why he missed the starting line-up. The 26-year-old from Neubrandenburg in the former East Germany was seen as the next big hope, with passes tailored to match the new coach’s tempo. Klinsmann was looking to eke him into the starting squad. But then captain Michael Ballack publicly criticized the “very offensively oriented” style and, before the tournament had even started, Borowski was relegated to the bench.

Sure, he said reservedly, sinking deeper into his chair, he was a victim of the debate over the new strategy “but Ballack was right.” It’s a shame, he said. At first he resisted the label of victim as “too harsh” but then changes his mind. When he came in for Ballack, he admitted he should have played more selfishly to make his presence known. “But there was no room for playing selfishly.” The “training collective,” as he called the team, appreciates discipline.

Borowski, better known as “Boro,” is one of those kickers who is always ready with a water bottle when teammates come to the sidelines for a little refreshment during training. Foreign journalists still ask which number he is when he’s not in uniform. But with his well-placed passes, his ability to easily answer questions in English and his noticeable size and appearance, he remains a threat to Ballack.

After Borowski claimed the central role in the preliminary game against Japan, Ballack was forced to retrieve the position for the tournament. Ballack also repositioned the young player, who sports the same number -- 18 -- as Klinsmann did in his playing days, during a corner kick when the team faced Colombia in another preliminary. Borowski had staked out the perfect spot for heading the ball into the net but the captain put him nearer the goalpost -- the perfect position for Boro to set up a goal for him.

Competition in the team

Team spirit can temporarily dull the sharp edges of rivalries but even the celebration following the victory over Poland couldn’t hide the insincerity of Klinsmann and Ballack’s congratulatory embrace. Nothing had made more headlines than the disappointment over Ballack’s lackluster play in the team’s opening match. The national coach had to show his authority, Klinsmann’s media consultant Roland Eitel leaked to journalists, proving himself a national-level spin doctor. As the scandal unfolded, Ballack issued press releases worthy of a politician to defend his honor.

When it emerged that the team management wasn’t happy with Ballack’s apparently careless handling of an injury, the star player’s agent came to his defense. By openly proclaiming his health and demanding a position on the field, Ballack had spared himself the worst possible blow to his image -- that a loss could be chalked up to his absence. Instead, the outrage was over press releases and sound bites.

In the Poland match, Ballack was positioned in an offense that put no emphasis on one player. Klinsmann dubbed the mid-field players the “flat four” where no one was allowed to edge forward and gain an advantage. The hierarchy within the team has seemed equally as flat. Even so, the captain has accidentally let some criticism for his younger teammates slip. The squad is full of inexperienced players “whose egos dictate a much different attitude.” Today’s national team “holds back a little” and, according to Ballack, keep quiet when in doubt.

This makes it easier for Klinsmann, the defender of team spirit, and is apparent when all the players parrot the same thing on the same day. Phrases like, “Confidence is increasing” because they have resisted the “massive pressure.” Or when the idea to stand should-on-shoulder during the national anthem supposedly seeped “out of the team” in the locker room. That idea must have been similar to Klinsmann’s debut as national coach in August 2004 in Vienna. At the time, he told the players they had to “choose.” Would they rather play offensively and impress their fans or appear passive and boring? The decision was theirs, he said.

Freedom according to Klinsmann

Klinsmann likes to grant his compliant players “freedom” during the tournament, but unmonitored telephone interviews with the press are discouraged. Internal peace has been institutionalized. Still, finger-pointing was rampant after the own-goals in the game against Costa Rica. Lahm accused the mid-fielders of failing to help. Borowski hinted at Arne Friedrich’s bad positioning: “Someone was asleep.” Torsten Frings praised his and Borowski’s efforts: “We cleaned up.”

But now, after Dortmund, every player has internalized the principles of selflessness. Reserve player Jens Nowotny studiously carries the ball bag into the Mommsen stadium for training as if he were the groundskeeper for the local Tennis Borussia soccer team. He doesn’t want to put any pressure on rivals within the team. He’s “the last one that would set any traps.” That, he says, would be “treason.”