Sunday, 23 September 2012

SK Brann vs. Rosenborg

I've always wanted to go to a game abroad, or more specifically in Europe. There's something so attractive about the continental game. Not always the football itself (and certainly not in the case of Brann and Rosenborg this particular evening), but the difference in the way it's viewed and consumed by fans. There was something romantic about the way directly before kick off, the Brann starting eleven turned toward the south stand (the site of the home side's more vocal, vibrant support) arms rested on each others shoulders, and sang together what you can only assume is the club's anthem ala Liverpool's You'll Never Walk Alone. The idea of Samir Nasri or Carlos Tevez singing Blue Moon to the City fans before each game is laughable. It was Bekka's first footballing experience, and I found myself willing a great game for her sake. "Come on lads, make it a good'un and she might even like it, she'll play through pain, the biting cold and bad food, and she'll be discussing Spurs' lack of depth up front in no time". 


We were sat in proximity of away fans, who were segregated from us by the sort of crude fencing you might find on a school playground, and boxed in at the front by caging that would look more at home on a building site. It soon showed its purpose though. When the Trondheim side took the lead just after half time, a rush of black and white surged for the fence, some scaling it, some thrusting themselves against it, some mindlessly kicking it with what I think might have been joy. After that performance, their reaction to conceding (below) was a bit of a damp squib.



After this brief moment of thuggish excitement however, it all went a bit stale. Rosenborg looked content with their lead, Brann impressively unimpressive in the final third. But, with the script now torn up and thrown in the fjord, I left Brann Stadion having watched and celebrated the Bergen side pull two goals out of their backsides in 10 minutes of end to end football that I had sworn impossible to my company just moments before. Rosenborg's players, and now uncharacteristically subdued fans looking quite miffed as to what had happened. 

I've got a taste for it now. Where next?  





No comments:

Post a Comment