THE ARCTIC CIRCLE DERBY
“They thought we were primitives up here,” explains Orjan Berg, sporting director and former footballer from Bodo/Glimt’s Berg family dynasty in northern Norway. “We were direct, we spoke our minds, but we were not primitive. They used to advertise flats for rent in Oslo but say ‘no people from the north of Norway’ on them. We were bullied. They thought we were only farmers and fishermen. Some still think that we are. We weren’t allowed to play in the national league until 1971 because they felt we couldn’t compete with teams from the south of Norway.”
FourFourTwo have travelled north of the Arctic Circle to write about the derby game between high-flying Bodo/Glimt and Tromso. It’s cold all right, but not freezing at the end of September.
There are 16 teams in Norway’s top division, the Eliteserien, but only these two lie inside the Arctic Circle itself. Their biggest game is when they meet, even though it’s a derby like no other. They are based 350 miles apart, 10 hours each way for any travelling supporters, but it’s the closest league match for both.
There’s little love lost. Bodo’s harbourmaster once prevented visiting Tromso fans from docking until close to kick-off time because he said the conditions weren’t safe. They were perfect. Another time, Bodo fans put rotting fish heads on the window sills of the hotel where the Tromso players were staying. At first light – about 3am in August, in this land of the midnight sun – squawking seagulls descended on the feast, creating a racket and waking the players.
When Tromso were leading one match in Bodo in 1995, their players were encouraged to use delaying tactics. It culminated in their manager going to ground when the home team’s physio went near him to try to retrieve a ball that the Tromso bench were in no hurry to give back. The prostrate boss, his face to the floor, was stretchered out of the stadium and to hospital, where doctors found absolutely nothing wrong with him. He admitted the ruse years later. Tromso won.
