With what was near enough 48 hours without any sleep under my belt, it was no surprise that I crashed out in the hotel as soon as we'd returned from Rælingen. I'm told I asked for a beer, and then just dropped to sleep within seconds. Clearly my body knew I couldn't afford too much. That wasn't to be too much of a problem though, as I needed to be well rested for the next day, as we took in a further two fixtures, starting with Frigg vs Korsvoll.
An easy start to the day was undertaken, with beer in the hotel reception sunk, and enough time planning out the day ahead of us. It was quickly evident that we'd be able to save money walking to the ground rather than jumping on the T-Bane over to Majorstuen, and we set off for another of our 40 minute walks. A simple walk through some of the Oslo back streets led us out to Fagerborg, which housed, conveniently, the Fagerborg cathedral and Bislett Stadion. Seemingly, a football weekend doesn't contain an awful lot of tourism, and so we took our time to take photos, just to make sure in our own heads that we had at least attempted to sample some of the local area, away from a Kunstgress.
An easy start to the day was undertaken, with beer in the hotel reception sunk, and enough time planning out the day ahead of us. It was quickly evident that we'd be able to save money walking to the ground rather than jumping on the T-Bane over to Majorstuen, and we set off for another of our 40 minute walks. A simple walk through some of the Oslo back streets led us out to Fagerborg, which housed, conveniently, the Fagerborg cathedral and Bislett Stadion. Seemingly, a football weekend doesn't contain an awful lot of tourism, and so we took our time to take photos, just to make sure in our own heads that we had at least attempted to sample some of the local area, away from a Kunstgress.
There was to be no way we could stand there and kid ourselves unfortunately, we both knew there was only one real reason we were even stood in that area of town. Frigg Oslo FK were calling, and so off we trotted, sniffing out the football as we went. Some ten minutes or so down the road, we arrived at the ground, or so we thought.
Standing next to an artificial pitch with an hour to go before kick off, I expected some kind of activity. Warm ups, coaches laying down cones, a goalkeeper practicing his catching with a coach in the corner, but there was nothing. We decided that it must be the right place, and headed around the block, returning ten minutes later with a can of Tuborg each to enjoy on the grass verge. 45 minutes until kick-off, nothing. At that moment, one of us had the bright idea to check if we were actually in the right place. We weren't.
Having polished off our drinks on the touchline of 'not Frigg', we wandered off a couple of streets North to find real Frigg, and their Frigg Tørteberg home. I've written previously about basic, but this place took it to a new level. There is nothing there, apart from goals and deckchairs for dugouts. For whatever reason though, I liked it. For any number of reasons, I can't for the life of me pinpoint exactly why. It's the most basic ground I've visited. The university buildings that tower over it are ugly. Despite that though, I was completely contented lying on a grass verge watching a Norwegian 4th tier game.
Having polished off our drinks on the touchline of 'not Frigg', we wandered off a couple of streets North to find real Frigg, and their Frigg Tørteberg home. I've written previously about basic, but this place took it to a new level. There is nothing there, apart from goals and deckchairs for dugouts. For whatever reason though, I liked it. For any number of reasons, I can't for the life of me pinpoint exactly why. It's the most basic ground I've visited. The university buildings that tower over it are ugly. Despite that though, I was completely contented lying on a grass verge watching a Norwegian 4th tier game.
The game itself was poor. Neither side fancied losing, and it showed for long periods. The away side eventually took a late lead with a low drive when all was set for our first dreaded goalless draw of the season. A goal to the good, we thought that would be that. Then, with two minutes of stoppage time on the clock, it happened. A long ball into the box caused havoc in the visiting defence, and dropped at the feet of an unmarked Ufs. With the freedom of Frigg, he made no mistake with his poked finish from eight yards, and we erupted. What a time to score! |
For the more hardened football traveler, they'd turn their nose up at a place like this. It's ugly, it's bland, there's nothing there. Paul, a fellow groundhopper we met, even rated the ground 0/10 for his personal records. Looking back on it, I realise that I wasn't there for the 'tick'. Travelling to watch games is becoming so much more to me than counting the different places I've watched a fixture. It's about the football, the experience, the laughs with people I've met. I was completely contended sitting on a grass verge with a couple of mates, watching a fairly naff game of football. For me, it doesn't get much better than that.