In the past couple of weeks, the small Norwegian city of Trondheim has played host to one of the most passionately followed sporting events in the world; however, in the UK you likely won’t have known it was happening.
Nordic skiing, better known on these shores as cross-country skiing, is almost a religion in Norway. The level of devotion it inspires rivals that of the beautiful game in Britain. As it was being hosted in my mother’s hometown, I was lucky enough to be able to attend two days of the championship.
Norway were the strong home favourites, particularly in the men’s disciplines. On the women’s side, however, Sweden have led the pack. The countries competing were mostly European, though I did see a rogue Australian flag being waved in the stands. The two events that I saw were both relays, with four legs of two laps each combining for an 8-lap race over 50 kilometres.
On Thursday, the weather proved a factor, as heavy storms saw the ski jumping cancelled, but the men’s cross-country still went ahead. Norway dominated, leading almost constantly, and on the final leg, Klæbo (who grew up just down the road from the track) was able to pick up the Norwegian flag and coast home, picking up his fifth personal gold. On Friday, the Norwegian women suffered heartbreak as they let slip a 37-second lead with two laps to go, ultimately losing by the barest of all margins to a Swedish team that admittedly was expected to sweep the relay comfortably.
The experience of being there was a unique one but incredibly enjoyable. On Thursday, I was in the main stand, facing down the track. The stand itself didn’t fill me with much confidence, looking quite rickety, but it held firm. Then on Friday, I was in the grandstand, next to the royal box.
The atmosphere on both days was wonderful. Even though my grasp with the Norwegian language is less than brilliant, the body language of the other attendees was fairly universal to all sports fans and gave a very good indication of what was going on. The two old men in front of me, who clearly didn’t trust the automatic timer, had brought their own stopwatch and were very reminiscent of the badgers who score from the crowd at cricket matches. Another thing that was familiar was the palpable disappointment in the crowd when it became clear that the Swedes would not be caught on the final leg, securing an unpopular victory. The rate at which the mood went flat was impressive, as was the rate at which the stands emptied, denying the Swedes of a crowd to celebrate their victory in front of.
One thing that was different from most British events that I’ve been to was the stands; they did not have seats, but instead were just rows and rows of standing room. Clearly this is a common thing in Norway, and the attendees came prepared. Many had yoga-style mats or fold-away camping chairs to provide a brief rest. Other common sights included flasks of coffee, tea, and a not inconsiderable amount of Jäegermeister.
Ultimately, it was a blast to get involved with, and the experience has definitely opened me up to going to more sporting events that I would otherwise not choose to attend. The Curling World Championships, I’m coming for you next.
Image credits: Siri Lewis