As covered in Part One, I’d been reduced to basically going to watch a bunch of lads playing the midweek equivalent of our Sunday Amateur football to try & get my football fix here in Oslo thanks to my usual mix of bad luck and getting screwed over by Americans with no concept of the outside world actually doing ‘stuff’. But to be fair, I lucked out a bit and not only did I get a keenly fought contest with 7 goals, but it was played in a really cool little venue that was piss easy to get to. So yah boo sucks to you. Never doubted it. Can’t beat grassroots football etc etc etc.
Today, I’ve got something a bit more ambitious planned. A jaunt to just outside Oslo for a Norwegian Cup tie between Second division sides Stabaek and Mjondalen at the former’s Nadderud Stadium. Now, normally this trip would be a piece of piss to be fair, as my office\hotel is slap bang between two Oslo metro stations which pretty much all the network’s lines run through. And the Nadderud is but a short walk from Bekkestua on the number 4 line, about a 15 minute trundle from central Oslo at most. Unfortunately, as is usually the way, the universe has decided that poor old me can’t get so much as a sniff of an easy life and has to place the garden rake of fate once more firmly in my path. The issue this time is that the line out to that neck of the woods is being renovated and at present goes no further than 2 stops from my current base of operations by the Central Station. The worst part of it all being that this means I must do the majority of the trip by bus. And not a rail replacement one, oh no. Just a regular Joe one.
Yes yes, I know. Bus wanker etc. Thanks for mentioning it. However, a quick check on the local ‘Ruter’ app reveals that simply going 2 stops on the metro to Nationaltheatret (guess what’s there, go on, guess!) and then picking up the 150 bus from outside to Bekkestua bus station will do the job nicely. No, I’m not convinced either (remember, great at plans, shit at execution) but fuck it. This is the hand I’ve been dealt and it won’t be the first time I’ve stared life in the face and told it to stop being a prick. So, first I have to negotiate a day at work including an interview with a candidate in Stockholm. Things go relatively smoothly though and after lunch, I get online to bag my ticket for the big game. Mainly as if I leave at 5pm, ‘Ruter’ reckons I’ll be at the bus station by 10 to 6, so just getting in for kick off could be touch and go. Plus I’ve no fucking idea where the ticket office is, nor if it’ll even be open for this one. So whilst I’m a sad stub collecting weirdo, playing it safe with a QR code is probably best on this occasion.
Marvellously, I’m relieved of the grand sum of 100 Norwegian Krone for my evening’s entertainment. Which is currently £7.28 in his majesty’s finest Blighty shekels according to Google. So easily less than most fucking bars charge for a beer around here. Sweet. Probably be the worst 0-0 ever for that sort of dough. One of my team who’s into his football notices my staring intently at the ticketing site trying to make sure I don’t fuck this up and laments that I can’t make the Lillestrom game the following evening instead\as well. “It’ll be a much better atmosphere. They’re a bigger club and playing the holders”. Yeah, thanks for that mate, not like you and the other bastards I manage are the precise reason I can’t make that one eh? At least try and lie even a little bit to make me feel better for fucks sakes.
Finally, the clock strikes 17:00 and I have it away on my toes. First stop is my hotel, fortunately no more than 100 meters away, to drop my bag off and change into my more comfy trainers. All sorted, I’m back out into the lovely warm afternoon sunshine and heading for Jernbanetorget T-Bane just up the road. As I trot down the stairs, I buy my ticket on the app and soon hop on a train heading west. And here things already start to unravel. Like a tit, I’ve misread the destination and this one’s literally going one stop and terminating. So I’ve managed to do half the first leg and fuck it up. Sweet. Luckily a quick change of platform later and I make the next one to take me to the National Theatre, although that slip has cost me the 10 minutes or so head start I’d had. Back above ground I quickly locate the stop I need, which is indeed just over the road from the station and I’m in luck. Just 2 minutes away is the next 150 to Gullhaug, which will drop me off at Bekkestua and football. Hopefully.
With typical European efficiency, the bus is on the money and I board a largely empty service and take a seat in the back half of a rather comfy air conditioned charabanc. Ok, if I’m gonna bus wanker it, this is kinda a good starting point. We roll out of town and within several minutes are clear of the centre of Oslo and motoring down a dual carriageway. Out the window, I catch glimpses of Norwegian suburbia and I must admit it does look all very pleasant indeed. Soon enough, the bus swings into my destination of Bekkestua bus station and I hop off bang on time with 12 minutes to kick off. Right, where’s this bloody ground? Thankfully being a reasonably sized top division outfit, they have fans and it takes me less than 30 seconds to get a visual on some dark blue shirts to follow. Lead the way local Norwegian people!! Before long, the floodlights (and what belting floodlights they are!) pop into view and eventually we approach the back of the main stand where I’m going to be parking my arse. Result.
Some pics snapped, turnstile located, I flash my QR and I’m in as the pre-match rigmarole starts to peak and after a quick pre-match Jimmy in some delightfully stickered up bogs, I find my section and locate my seat as the two sides appear from the tunnel. On first impressions, the Nadderud is a bit of a tired looking old gaff. Clearly a former mixed use venue, it still has the running track in front of us, but the two ends have been squared off and at both ends stand a couple of large stacks of prefabs which I assume act as offices and hospitality given how threadbare the main stand is. On the opposite side is a couple of blocks of seats, the one to my far right being occupied by about 150 or so travelling fans. The home mob being away to my far left in the bottom corner of my stand. Behind that goal appears to be a large building site and it’s not until later when the clouds finally provide some relief from the strong early evening sunshine burning out my retinas that I realise it seems that what appears to be a new ground is what is being constructed there.
It seems that this is Stabaek’s second attempt at a new home as back in 2009 they moved into the 15k capacity Unity Arena just south of here on the other side of the E18 in Fornebu. But sadly by 2011 they were forced to move back into their old drum as, in a predictably modern football, the rent went up 300% on the new place and they had to start the ‘new home’ project all over again from scratch. This new spot is going to be more snug than that with just an 8k capacity apparently and fully covered on all sides. Looking at how far it’s got, I’d say it’ll be at least a year before they leave the old Nadderud behind for the ‘Nye Nadderud’. As the teams get ready for the off, the PA sparks up and booms out ‘Land of Hope and Glory’, albeit with what appears to be local lyrics. Interesting. Always fascinating to find familiar tunes like that in use abroad in footballing circles and I’ll have to see if I can work out what those are when I get home.
Today’s contest has a Quarter Final spot at stake and the hosts are surely favourites, which is hard to believe given their spot just above mid table in the OBOS Ligaen (Norway’s 2nd division) with 3 wins from 7. However compared to the visitors they’re flying, as Mjondalen sit rooted to the foot of the table without a win to their name and only the 2 points from 7 matches. In fact it seems their only wins this season have been in the cup. That and the hosts romped to a 4-0 win in the league against the same oppo just on Friday. Probably why it’s less than a tenner in tonight and explains the rather sparse crowd attending. Apparently Stabaek get around 3000 or so in for home games according to the all knowing internets, but they’ll be lucky if it’s half that tonight by the looks of it. Out on the pitch, the visitors belie their lowly status and get into things quickly and an early chance curls just wide hitting the stanchion pole for the net and this has a few home fans gasping in horror and a few in the away end thinking it’s in. The evening sun beats down making a mockery of my decision not to change out of my jeans from work and I also take the time to appreciate the addition of linos for this one. Mjondalen’s early promise though is undone after about 10 mins when a soft free kick on the stand side is fired in low and the keeper makes a hash of it on his line seemingly carrying the ball over. He chucks it out to try & get away with it but it’s fired back into the net and the lino on the far side has her flag up regardless. 1-0 early doors.
As the hosts celebrate, we get a blast of some goal music over the PA which is pretty terrible. It’s basically a drunk Norwegian ‘la la la-ing’ to the tune of Rod Stewart’s “D’you think I’m sexy?”. It’s the sort of shit one of our lot would do at karaoke at 2am after a day on the gas, it’s that bad. And sir, whoever you are, the answer is resoundingly “no, I do not”. I also hope for the club’s sake that Rod’s lawyers never hear of this monstrosity, or they could find themselves in big big trouble. I’m still shaking off the shock of this when the visitors almost level a minute later. Long ball, played in behind but the keeper stands up and saves with his legs. However, they are level not long after and again, it’s a bad night for the goalkeeper’s union. The visitors have a couple of African lads in attack and one of these units out wide shows some strength, gets past his man wide and whips a cross in from the byeline that the Stabaek keeper completely misjudges and can only flap at as it flies over him and inside the far post. Ooops a daisy! Most of the rest of the half is a bit like watching us this season to be honest, with both sides capable of some nice touches but then having performed an action that draws a ripple of applause from either set of fans promptly follow it up with a horrible pass into touch nowhere near a team mate or falling over the ball. It makes me feel strangely at home if nothing else and I start to wonder if ‘Mjondalen’ is a possible Norwegian twin town for Sutton.
As it starts to look likely to be level at the break, Stabaek manage to get their noses in front once more. A really good surging run from deep by the hosts tricky little no.11 ends with a ball wide to the even smaller, trickier little no.7 (apparently an old school mate of one of my team as I discover the next day over lunch!) and he fires a low ball across the box which the keeper completely misjudges, fails to cut out and a blue shirt sliding in behind him bundles the ball into the back of the net. As we get another blast of drunk Rod Stewart impersonator on the PA, I ponder whether if the stoppers in the 7th tier last night were better than these lads. Mjondalen’s keeper’s night is ended soon after, when he pulls up after shanking a back pass wildly into touch under zero pressure at all. I’m not sure if he’s really injured or simply decided that he doesn’t want his night getting any worse, but regardless he’s replaced for the final couple of minutes and begins a lone limp around the perimeter of the pitch only to get collared by local TV for an interview by the tunnel as the whistle goes and he has to stand gassing whilst all his colleagues trudge off down to the changing rooms for an energy drink and a bollocking. When it’s not your night, it’s just not your night I guess. For the break, I head back into the open ‘concourse’ behind the stand and have a nose around. The club ‘shop’ is open but shirts are the best part of a ton and the rest of the selection in their little container outlet is pretty sparse. Still, serves it’s purpose. I’m sure they’ll have a lovely full scale boutique selling all manner of tat at the new gaff next door once it opens.
Fans mill about queueing for drinks and the slightly strange hot dog in a tortilla combo that seems to pass for football scran in these parts and that I’d first seen at Valerenga II back in September. This time I elect to pass and to try & bag something a bit more substantial when I get back into town after the game. With the nature of the ground however, there’s not much more to see or do really and deciding not to join the few people watching the Academy game underway on the pitch below through the chainlink fence, I head back to my seat to await the restart. The second half starts quietly until a nice quick bit of one touch down in front of us ends with a trip just outside the box. The Stabaek lad lashes it low and hard on goal and the new Mjondalen keeper retains the “Wow the keepers are shocking!” theme of the night ticking over nicely as he shovels the shot straight at him into the back of his own net. 3-1 and it’s time for some more 4th rate Rod karaoke. As if to emphasise the point they’re having a shit start to the season, the visitors then go a man down on the hour when a pass is left short at the back, Stabaek rob it and the little no.7 is fed through the middle and clear on goal. A defender tries to get back but can only clip his heels on the 18 yard line and the ref’s left with no choice in the matter. Fuck me, if Mjondalen were wearing yellow and I took my glasses off, I could easily believe I was watching us from our last League 2 season.
You’d think at this stage it was game over and that all the home side have to do is keep it tidy for a few minutes and not give away anything silly. And you’d be correct. Except they don’t. Instead they give the oppo a nbit too much room in midfield, don’t get tight to their man and the stocky figure of Conteh for the visitors shows good feet just inside the box to rifle one low into the far corner to make it 3-2. Tell you what, whilst these Norwegian lads know how to entertain the neutral! That’s 12 goals in 2 games so far as I smugly inform the rest of the mob back home on the Gandermonium Whatsapp group. Actually, make that 13, as within 5 minutes, Stabaek work it wide, the cross is stood up to the back post and with the keeper, unsurprisingly, stuck in no man’s land, a lad pops up to sidefoot volley number 4 into the løkpose. That’s ‘onion bag’ in Norwegian for you less culturally aware out there. Oh god, here’s Rod’s talent free black out drunk doppelganger again. So, 4-2 and NOW it’s game over yeah? Erm, no. 3 minutes later and a deep free kick into the box is net with a deft header that glides past the keeper at his near post. 4-3. “Make that fourteen” I update on the Whatsapp group. With the man extra the home side really should add at least 1-2 more before the end, but the oppo keeper finally gets his eye in, making 2 good saves, one tipping over a point blank effort after a cross in from wide and the other smothering a shot just inside his box from a 1 on 1 breakaway. Then as three minutes are added, Mjondalen’s cause finally looks lost. They’re not helped by their 15 rolling around injured in his own half for a good couple of minutes before the game stops as his team mates desperately try to play on.
However, this silly game has one last moment to give. With time basically up, the visitors launch one last ball forward, the home defence switches off and Conteh slips between the two centre backs to rattle the crossbar with a header powered in from around the 18 yard line. Luckily for Stabaek no one’s there to snaffle up the rebound and they manage to clear the danger. All around me home fans gasp in horror or mutter bad Norwegian words under their breath, clearly not that impressed that they’ve made such hard work of oppo they handed their arses just only a couple of days ago. I on the other hand sit there chuckling away to myself, thoroughly entertained by the chaotic nonsense laid on before me before I realise I have not the first fucking clue what an equaliser would have meant. And I don’t know the local lingo for “Excuse me, but does this go to extra time or straight to pens mate?”. So it’s probably for the best it didn’t go in. I grab a couple final pictures and file out with the locals, most of whom are puffing out their cheeks, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes at their side’s labours this evening. Know the feeling all too well damer og herrer. Football is 90% shite, 10% joy as Dos used to say.
I manage to find my way back the way I’d come in earlier following the blue shirts and after admiring the large book based sculpture outside the local library, before too long I’m back at Bekkestua bus station with one due in less than 10 minutes. Score! It’s on time and it’s a busier service than the one I’d got out here earlier. Still, I bag a seat right at the back row like all the cool kids do and less than 20 minutes later, I’m back in Central Oslo by the National Theatre. Not bad at all. In fact, as bus wankering goes, I’d give it a firm 9 bus wankers out of 10. Would definitely Oslo bus wanker again. As it’s cooled off somewhat from earlier, I take a slow stroll back down towards the hotel rather than jump on the T-Bane, trying to work out where best to grab some dinner for my now grumbling belly. With most of my usual choices closing soon around 9pm, I instead divert to Oslo Street Food, a place with loads of little stalls selling all sorts of gear from Empanadas, to stir fry, to tacos. And as I arrive I spot a place over the road. ‘Bastard Burgers’. Hey, one of the lads at work recommended that! Grub grubbed, I head back to the hotel with a renewed end of season vigour for the game in my step. Whilst I was already looking forward to it, this has put me in a properly good mood for Dundo’s testimonial at GGL at the weekend.
Still, Norwegian football you’re alright you know. Your beer might be 20 quid a pint and you may only get a couple months daylight a year, but you certainly know how to entertain a bitter old fella from London. You can definitely come again.
Taz
PS. Apologies to all the Norwegians out there for the Anglicised title. The site won’t do accented characters that aren’t French or Spanish. Sorry! 🙂