For some years Norway was a paradox: it had the most devastating centre-forward on the planet, one of the finest attacking midfielders of his generation, and a cluster of players spread across Europe’s main leagues. And yet it watched two European Championships (2021 and 2024) and a World Cup (2022) from home. It felt like a national team built to feed regret rather than expectation. Now that paradox no longer exists. After beating Brazil in the round of 16, Solbakken’s team have reached the quarter-finals of a World Cup for the first time in their history. A historic milestone, but above all confirmation that something long missing has finally appeared: the ability to be strong not as the sum of individual values, but as a team.
The temptation is always to tell the story through Erling Haaland. And it is, frankly, inevitable. Every time Norway win, everything seems to start from the number nine. He is the player who alters the way opponents defend, forces lines deeper, turns every loose ball into a chance. But it would be an incomplete reading. Because, especially in the match against Brazil, Haaland was the focal point of Solbakken’s structure, yes, but not the structure itself. Norway eliminated one of the most gifted national teams in the world thanks to a group of players who, only a few weeks earlier, arrived at the tournament carrying more doubts than certainties. That detail alone makes this journey so compelling.
Looking at their club seasons, there is hardly anyone who has truly produced extraordinary numbers or performances — Haaland aside, naturally. Antonio Nusa, perhaps the brightest talent of the new Norwegian generation, finished his season at Leipzig with just five goals. Alexander Sørloth scored 20 in total for Atlético Madrid, a figure that suggests importance, and yet he remains Simeone’s regular first option off the bench, an attacker unable to turn goals into a permanent starting role, into unquestioned trust from the Cholo. And then Martin Ødegaard arrived at the World Cup almost emptied out. His last year at Arsenal was a constant search for lost rhythm: knee issues, muscular problems, a shoulder fracture, knocks taken across matches. In total, the Gunners’ captain missed 30 games; the ones he played with continuity were few. And yet, game after game, this World Cup is giving him back something of the player who had seemed temporarily gone. Against Brazil he looked again like the footballer who controls the tempo simply by choosing where to receive the ball.
Even the defence looked anything but secure. Torbjørn Heggem and Kristoffer Ajer arrived from seasons without a clearly defined role at Bologna and Brentford respectively, one returning from back problems, the other slowed by persistent lower-back pain. Against Brazil, though, they played like they had been together for years. They contained Cunha and Endrick without ever really allowing depth, dominating physically and, more importantly, mentally two forwards who, in very different ways, remain among the most intriguing talents in Brazilian football. Then there is Fredrik Aursnes. In Lisbon his name has often been tied to defensive errors, to reading issues, to criticism. With Norway, he looks like a different player. The system removes responsibilities that penalise him and amplifies others. He is one of those footballers who do not change how a team plays, but change how a team stands on the pitch.
The same applies to Oscar Bobb. In January he left Manchester City for Fulham in search of minutes that, in reality, only came in fragments. Fourteen Premier League appearances, an average of 40 minutes per game: too little to expect decisive impact in a World Cup round of 16. And yet he came on when the match had stalled and tilted it towards Norway. Perhaps that is the most interesting key. Norway have built their World Cup run despite difficult club seasons for many of their players. Or perhaps because of them. Each one seems to have found in the national team a place of refuge, a place to restart. Nobody arrives needing to confirm status, nobody has to defend a hierarchy. Everyone simply plays a part inside a script they know instinctively.
In that sense Haaland has a particular role: the undisputed star, of course, but also the player who enables others to shine. He draws defenders, opens space, distorts opposition geometry. Around him moves a team that does not live off reflected light, but uses it to illuminate everything else. This is perhaps the biggest difference compared to the past. Norway used to wait for Haaland to solve matches. Now Haaland feels like part of a group of players fully aware of their strength, their standing.
It is visible even in the way they celebrate. After beating Brazil, as after every major win, the players gathered beneath the stand of their supporters for the Viking Row, the collective rowing gesture that now accompanies their victories. It is not just a celebration. It is an identity ritual, almost: 25 men rowing in the same direction, one of them leading, and leading also thousands of fans repeating the same motion in the stands. A metaphor, perhaps too perfect, for how this national team now functions.