Dansk Daze: Denmark vs Slovenia in Copenhagen

Words: David Barnwell

Images: David Barnwell

Copenhagen, like you’ll always see it in November: wet, windy, dark. Cold.

The most beautiful city in the world, and a place I like to call “home”. But there is no doubt, really. This time of year, right here, right now, really isn’t a great time to visit.

Yet I am here, on business, but find myself downing pints with friends on a Friday afternoon. Then a surprise phone call with an irresistible offer. The noise from the ramen bar in the background is deafening, but I get the gist of it: “Tickets, decisive group game, now, you in?”

Less than two hours later, I am on the spot on the terrace behind the goal. Parken, Denmark’s home turf and home of FC Copenhagen, is shining red and white. Every seat is taken, and it is not an exaggeration to say that the concrete rumbles beneath us as the pre-game fireworks go off. Here we fucking go.

The wind is cold, but the game is decent. We’re up against the Slovenians for the top spot in the group – secure the win and the tickets for Germany and the Euros in Summer can be booked. Lose, and you’ll have to wing it in the last away game in Belfast. This is the shot, and we’re doing our part.

We’re sitting on them tight. For long stretches, the Slovenians struggle to put together even a handful of passes. As the Capo in front of us frantically tries to reach even the upper rows, you feel something is building. Something good. Then, relief. Joakim Mæhle, a true fan favourite, slides into the box to connect perfectly with a cross, and puts it away.

The terrace erupts, and I am instantly showered with cascades of cold beer causing a smell that will stick to my winter coat for weeks to come.

The floodlights are bright. I’m singing along. Strangers are hugging. Life is good.

©David Barnwell/ Terrace Edition. Denmark vs Slovenia.

Then, the equalising goal, shortly before the break. A clumsy freekick, put away beautifully and we’re back to square. Time for beer.

Back at it, we are pushing on from the first whistle. And the fans are going with it. This is it, really. We had a decent campaign, but the play has been abysmal. Long gone is the memory from the last Euros, which saw us ride to the semis on a national high.

The truth is that we’ve been more than struggling. There’s even been talks of getting rid of Hjulmand, the very man who managed to turn around the atmosphere around our national team some four years ago. Now, we’ve been scraping 2-1 wins against San Marino.

Still, a goal here, tonight in cold Copenhagen, will see us through. And we all know it. So when Thomas Delaney, the homecoming prince of Copenhagen himself, slots in the winner, it does feel right. It may not have been pretty, but here we are. Top of the group and on to the next one. Where we are supposed to be.

At the final whistle, things are profoundly blurry. The stadion speakers are blasting Freed from Desire, as the players celebrate on the pitch. More beer showers, more singing, more fireworks. As we flood into the streets, Copenhagen comes alive for one of those special nights that I will forever insist only football can give us: hectic, untameable, magic.

Copenhagen is once again the best place in the world to be. But it’s still cold.

So fucking cold.