I’ll be honest, whilst drawing 0-0 in our first home league game of the season against Solihull wasn’t exactly what we’d all hoped for, I think we can all agree that having spanked sides for 5 in the last two years on our GGL openers and knowing how that shit all panned out, I guess we’ll take it. See where this path leads us and all that. But, I digress as I’m not here to talk all things La Bastarda and our painful home record in the league for a change. Oh no. I’m here to get all fancy and mysteriously continental on you. Foreign even.
Yep, yours truly is once more on the road this week and back doing my Norway bullshit. But before you start fucking moaning and banging on about “Not this bollocks again“ and so forth, you’ll be glad to hear that this will be my last run over here for some time. Mainly, as I touched upon in the York blog, I’ve given this outfit bollocks and will be heading to pastures new in early September. Still with my notice and start date not jiving exactly, the chances of a break between the two was basically zero, as was getting over here on the firm to do my farewells to my team and all the other really nice people in our office on this manor.
So I figured “fuck it, why not do both?”. Few days in the land of the midnight sun, properly do all the tourist stuff around town I never got to see when here on business and also get to catch up with the gang one last time before I abandon them to their fate and a boss way less cooler and nowhere near as strikingly handsome than me. Now I did offer Mrs Taz passage also but she decided to let me fly this one solo given it was ostensibly to bid my farewells to colleagues and on the proviso we seriously look into doing a music festival here next June. Oh go on then. It’s fine, I’m not that upset as it means I can pad out my Futbology stats a bit more with a couple new obscure grounds and bore the fucking arse off all of you with it on here about it. Win win.
With this in mind and most upper echelons games being on the Sunday, I get my arse on a 9.20 flight out of Gatwick dumping me in Oslo by lunchtime. Quick bit of ducking & diving later, I’m through passport and on the rattler into town. Hotel sorted, I go for a wander around a beautifully sunny Oslo, checking out all manner of sights. Some of them even architectural. Ahem. But I’m mostly killing time until I head out of town a short ways for this afternoon’s first contest involving foot to ball. As I’ve yet to see a top division game, I’ve prioritised those, but sadly only two are on in easy reahch. The first is Valarenga, but I’ve already done their gaff for a reserve game. And whilst it’ll be a good atmos, I want new ticks. So that leaves me with just KFUM against Molde. And no that’s not the lads who burned a million quid after having a few hit singles in case you were wondering.
KFUM are one of the Eliteserien’s underdogs. They’ve spent most of the their senior football lives in the Norwegian 3rd tier until 2015 when they won the title and moved up to step 2. And then promptly went straight back down again. But undeterred they were back within 2 years in 2018 and settled in nicely, never being out of the top half. Then in 2023, they did it again, winning promotion to the top division for the first time ever. And they’ve been mid-table both seasons so far since making it up into the rarified air of top level Norwegian football. Now, the reaosn I first heard of this lot was for a rather odd reason. As when they were promoted, like a lot of smaller teams in these parts, their ground is what you might call ‘a bit basic’.
So much so, that the team’s facilities, changing rooms etc are over the road from the football pitch. So the lads have to get changed and then dodge traffic as part of their pre-match warm up. I’m not making it up, see for yourself! So of course, being a two bob non-league sad sack, that’s properly a bit of me. Sadly, the stars never aligned and until now and I’ve never managed to get here for a game. And naturally, being an established top division outfit now for a couple of seasons, that clearly won’t be a thing anymore. Shame, but there you go. Still, it’s a new ground and it’s also in a bit of Oslo I’ve not yet visited. So there’s that too. Crack on.
So having ditched luggage, done some wandering to locate some stuff for more serious touristing this week and had a bite to eat, I toddle round the corner from my digs to get a number 13 tram four stops and 15 minutes out to Sportsplassen. I’ve had harder trips to games, that’s for sure. It’s definitely not Carlisle away, I can tell you. Once clear of the city centre, the stops spread out and I trundle up into the hills overlooking the Oslofjord. As we pass the old hostpital, my eye is caught by something odd. I could have sworn that roundabout we just passed had a big red gnome in the middle of it holding what looked to be a massive dildo. And I’ve not even been drinking! Nah, surely not? Mental note made to sit on that side of the carriage on the way back to confirm my suspicions, I settle in to enjoy the nice views down to the water and the city below. Nice up here!
Hopping off the tram, I know I’ve a short walk to the ground. But which way? For a top division game, there’s not many about, not even any away fans! Then I spot a lad and his kid also got off and the kid is wearing a red & white shirt. The colours of todays hosts. Result, I’ll just follow them! Oh wait, it’s actually fucking Bayern Munich, not an obscure Norwegian mob. Google maps it is. The walk is pleasant and through some lovely quiet suburban streets lined with some properly nice Nordic housing. I know these parts aren’t known for being cheap as chips, but I get these gaffs go for many a Krone. Less than 10 minutes later, I emerge onto the main road with the ground just up ahead of me. As I approach the club building, I can see the crossing that went viral a couple years before and with a big grin on my face, use it to cross the street myself.
Getting in is easy, as there’s basically one main entrance at the back of the main stand for this side of the ground. I take an opportunity to browse the club shop first, basically like at Stabaek earlier this year, it’s container that just opens on matchdays, although this is basically on the street with some gear being displayed on rails out on the pavement! Must be a twat if it’s wet out. I grab a soft drink to cool me down and head on into the ground to find my seat. My ticket’s cost me about the same as a Sutton home game these days, so not exactly cheap as chips. But I’m at least under cover and with the sun behind me, my ginger genes won’t be getting bombarded with any more UV rays than they really need to today, so it’s worth every ore. As I chill with my cold Sprite, I do some more digging into today’s sides.
Molde are of course where Ole Gunnar Solksjaer started out and are quite a powerhouse in the top tier on this manor, with 5 titles and 6 runners up spots since the turn of the century. That also includes 5 Norwegian cups. So no doubt the travelling fans love leaving their nice purpose built stadia and coming to setups like this which is basically Whitehawk on steroids. All open to the elements and mainly temporary looking stands. Wonder what the Norwegian is for ‘tinpot’? Anyone know? Ah never mind.
It’s at this point that something dawns on me with regards to the hosts. Their badge has been bugging me, as it’s really familiar looking for some reason and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Initially I think it’s similar to the logo used for cycling proficiency test certificates back when I was a kid, but discard that as far too random. Christ knows how that even came to mind in the first place. I know, let’s cheat and ask the Googles. Mainly via a quick bit of translation on their club website which answers the question. They’re the sports club of the fucking YMCA! As in literally that’s what KFUM stands for. Oh god. The material. The banter!
I wonder if they’re twinned with Horsham?? Can you hang out with all the boys? Can you get yourself clean?? Do other sides call them the Village People? I mean, I did kinda walked through a village to get here after all. So many questions, so little time! With kick off imminent, the away end is filling out nicely and there must be 3-400 in from Ole’s mob. My stand is pretty quiet, although a couple of blocks over some lads are getting banners up and there’s a drum on display, so we could be getting atmosphere. Nice. Then as the first bars of AC\DC’s ‘Moneytalks’ plays over the PA, the teams emerge from down in the far corner and we’re about ready to go. Oddly, I don’t recall seeing any sort of construction down there that looked like changing rooms. I wonder…
From the off, the hosts do not make a great impression. Their first couple of minutes of on pitch activity makes them look like they’ve literally dragged some lads out of the local YMCA to play. A couple of passes are horribly misplaced, straight out into touch and there’s a few pained looked of “Fucking switch on eh lads?” albeit in Norwegian from a few of the players in red & white. But they soon settle and from here on it’s a pretty even contest. Then after the 20 minute mark, the hosts have a couple good sniffs. First a lad drives forward up the middle, spreads the ball wide and the attacker steps inside to put a rising drive over the bar. Then a couple later, they win a corner. This is pinged near post, a tall lads gets the nut on it and it looks like the Molde keeper saves with his face. The loose is nodded straight back on goal, but keeps recovers and gets a good solid fist on it under pressure to punch away from under his bar.
A drinks break then upsets the hosts rhythm a touch and Molde have their best spell of the contest when we’re back underway. A couple of minutes after, a nice bit of play ends with a pass laid back to 18 and an unmarked blue shirt slots it into the corner with the keeper rooted to the spot. Many flags waved, full on celebrations, ball back to the centre circle……oh wait, why are we waiting? Oh god, no. No that. Please anything but that….and yep, VAR’s stuck it’s fucking shit oar in and no goal. I assume for offside, although quite where I couldn’t for the life of me see. And there was no foul, certainly. What a load of wank, I’ll be checking that one on the Youtubes later for a proper old fume*. Shame as it was a pretty decent little move too. Oh well.
The rest of the half is much the same with both sides displaying their resolute mid-tableness (KFUM are 7th, Molde 8th going into today). The hosts do manage one more moment before the break, their tall 14 gets wide, dinks one back post and the lad arriving nuts his free header wide of the mark. Christ, it’s like watching Sutton. Standard’s not been that bad though to be honest, with the Molde 11, Zady-Sarey looking tidy and the driving runs up the middle of Hickson-Gyedu for the hosts have caught the eye. So goalless at the break, I do some doom scrolling as a few people migrate down the stand to be closer to the goal KFUM are attacking this half, very non-league. Approved. I also have a thirst on and head for some refreshment.
Sadly it’s a beer free zone round here, so a Sprite and a slice of cheese & ham pizza suffices for the princely sum of about 7 quid. As befitting the setup, these are just pizzas ordered from a local firm, delivered and kept warm before being sold by the slice. Also approved. Really don’t know why more clubs don’t do this actually. Do a deal, local outfit gets some turnover and you have low effort refreshments. Back in my seat, my refreshment is aided by the sprinklers getting caught in a breeze and blowing back into the stands. A couple of lasses down front squeal and cover themselves as best they can. I just enjoy the cool mist as I scoff my slice. On the pitch the half time ‘entertainment’ is some kids stood around the centre circle, kicking the ball as close to the centre spot as they can get. Each contestant being painfully interviewed by the lad with the mic. Although one clearly knows his onions as even without being able to speak Norwegian, I can tell he’s confirmed it’s gonna be a 0-0. Cheers kid.
Second half is much like the first. Hosts have probably the best of it, probably should score at least one and don’t. Not much happens until the hour when a home sub appears wearing 11 and this is rapturously received by the fairly noisy home fans to my right. And within a couple of mins, he really should open the scoring. Ball slipped though behind, he runs in and dinks it over the onrushing keeper only to see it drop the wrong side of the post. After this a completely missed free header from a corner and then with 5 to go, a sitter. Ball wide, lad gets space, rolls it across and the KFUM 17 arrives to thump a fierce side footer right down the keeper’s throat from 6 yards. Oh mate. Proceedings are summed up in added time when Molde win a free kick in a decent position, but their lad thumps it lamely into the wall and soon after the whistle goes for full time. Well, fuck me I guess. 14 goals in 2 games last time I was here, so I shouldn’t be amazed I’ve ended up with a blank this time round.
I filter out with the crowd as the home side come to accept the applause of their support and as I emerge out into the street I’m greeted by a wondrous site that helps pick myself off the ground. THEY STILL CROSS THE ROAD FROM THE CHANGING ROOMS!!! And I get to stand giggling at the sight of several stewards holding up traffic to allow 2 football teams, the officials and staff and all the ball boys\girls to cross over from the ground. Best thing is, the cars just sit there and wait. No hooting of horns, no gammon cunt revving their engine trying to run people over. Just “Ah bollocks, told you we needed to be out 10 mins ago Lisbet. We always get caught by the bloody football teams crossing at this time on a Sunday!” Amazing. Best ground in the world this. Full 5 stars on Tripadvisor, no notes. If you’re ever in Oslo, do KFUM. But for the full effect I’d suggest waiting outside until just before Kick off for the full parade. It must be fucking magical. Don’t worry about missing the start, there likely won’t be any queues.
With a happy little tinpot football skip in my step, I practically follow the last subs down the tunnel over the crossing and head back to the Tram stop down the hill. It’s a shade busier than the way in, with a few Molde lads hanging about and as I arrive a number 19 turns up. Ok, so it’s not the 13 I got down here, but I know that takes me back to town and that’s good enough for me. As we trundle off, I remember the gnome from the way up and move to the right side of the carriage and as we approach the old hospital my earlier suspicions are confirmed. There is indeed a large bright red gnome on the roundabout brandishing what appears to be a rather aggressive dildo. Too fucking right I took a picture. Don’t even care about the odd looks from the Molde fans neither. This is culture lads, you’re missing out.
Back in town, I hop off the tram and head straight for a gaff I know that does a good mixed range of cheap eats so I can get a good meal and scarf down a marvellous Bimbimbap. I do consider asking for it without the egg, but a Canadian lad ordering in front of me does the same and the nice Asian lady behind the jump looks at him like he’s just shit on the counter before simply replying “Only come with egg”. Yeah, I’ll take the egg please too love. Mmm, love me some egg I do. Yummy. Fed and watered, it’s still really quite warm out so doing whatever I feel, I grab an ice cream from 7-11 and wander back to my digs. I’ve a big day’s touristing to get through tomorrow and then some more Nordic scuffing in the evening, so I think I’m gonna have an early night and be fully rested for the festivities.
Live fast, die old as Lemmy used to say.
Taz
*I fucking KNEW IT! Check this out. Proper wanker shout that. One of those fucking hairs breadths jobs to a bloke who was moving away from goal when he got it too. Utter horseshit. If you think this is in any way exciting, intriguing or good for football, you can fuck off quite frankly. No exceptions.