Simon Bank
This is a commenting text. Analysis and positions are the writer’s.
NEW JERSEY. When medals are counted and price tags are compared, Sweden will play football against the world’s best team.
I only have two things to say:
You don’t stand a chance. Take it.
The silence breaks in East Hanover, a prosperous residential suburb in New Jersey. French-English hip-hop roars from loudspeakers, Tiakola raps about being “depressed like a Chelsea player”.
Anthony Elanga, Mattias Svanberg and Victor Lindelöf cheat their way to victory in a warm-up game, and it is not well received by the others.
– I have never been part of a team that has this much fun together, said Yasin Ayari the other day.
How good.
It looks like that. Viktor Gyökeres tanners with Alexander Isak, Lindelöf gets involved wholeheartedly in a form of handball team I never really grasp the rules of.
– It will be great fun, said Ayari.
– I’m really looking forward to it, says team captain Lindelöf, who continues to grow in the role.
I have a big problem
Sweden took the back door to the WC, they crushed, crashed and controlled their way through the group stage – and this is what they get for their trouble.
A midnight duel against the world’s best national team in recent years. I see a Swedish team that jokes and laughs and thrives together, players who have confidence in their coach, who have been welded together and who, by and large (with the exception of Isak Hien’s thigh), managed completely injury-free through the last month. I see the outlines of the skyscrapers in Manhattan as the sun goes down, and if you succeed here, you can succeed everywhere.
Sweden’s national team is in a better place than in a very long time, but on the way to Metlife Stadium in New Jersey, I have a big problem.
I don’t have enough imagination.
I’m comparing the lineups, spreading my experiences of French and Swedish national team soccer in recent years and… I can’t imagine how this is going to happen.
To Les Bleus having individual qualities that no one else can measure up to is one thing. This summer they also seem to have found a balance, a social and mental dynamic. I think they benefited from PSG’s journey from dysfunctional personality cult to unstoppable team machine. Ousmane Dembélé was the best in the world in 2025, now it might be Kyky Mbappé’s turn. Or Olises. Soon Doués.
There are two things I hate
I listen to Didier Deschamps, who speaks with respect about “the World Cup’s fastest player”, Anthony Elanga. Fun, but the fastest so far in the World Cup, according to Fifa’s measurements, is Mbappé.
The betting companies give Sweden a ten percent chance to advance. I feel it is highly calculated, trying to imagine scenarios where it happens.
Théo Hernandez’s swaying self-image? Nah, they say he won’t start.
And it doesn’t matter that I calculate to zero percent chance. Because football doesn’t work that way. Sometimes the world topples right out on the field. Germany loses on penalties, Greece lifts an EC trophy, ÖSK wins a match.
Sweden will start with Europe’s top scorer in recent years (Viktor Gyökeres), who is beaming and smiling. Behind him is a whole and dancing Alexander Isak, with feet full of imagination. And then Elanga’s jet engine, ready to solo at supersonic speeds.
Sweden can score goals, they can concede twice as many. The challenge is to leave no player alone, not unprotected against the best attacking set-up in the world. Gustaf Lagerbielke must not end up wrong this time, Alexander Bernhardsson must be in two or three places at the same time. Synchronized, compact defense, low and aggressive.
There are two things I detest more than anything else: 1. Prejudice about national stereotypes. 2. Arrogant Frenchmen.
France can become comfortable, sluggish and ball-rolling if they face well-organised, vicious defences.
Can Sweden be such a defense?
– We have to play the best game we have ever played, said Graham Potter yesterday.
– A chance in life, said Lindelöf.
And there is actually one thing that speaks for them winning it – they can’t lose. It is worth reminding.
Eight years ago, Dembélé, Mbappé, Lucas Hernandez and Kanté were involved in lifting the World Cup trophy in Russia. The rest of this French team were either super talents or newly turned professionals.
Any last words along the way?
What did the Swedish players do then, in 2018?
Our goalkeeper was in Lidingö in the fourth division, suffered severe concussions and then took a sabbatical. Lagerbielke was loaned to Sollentuna in Division I to get some playing time. Alexander Bernhardsson played in Division II with Sävedalen and worked full-time in a factory. Yasin Ayari was questioned in AIK’s academy, because he was too small. Jesper Karlström hit rock bottom with his gambling addiction, Besfort Zeneli has told that he considered quitting, and Taha Ali combined playing for the national team in futsal with working as a guard in the subway.
France comes here from its throne, many of the Swedish players come from nowhere.
Either they win the gold medal or they go home after a World Cup playoff no one thought they would be in.
I know that power is gathering at home, I know that arenas and squares are filled with Swedes who live on hope and prayers.
Any last words along the way?
It might be worth recalling when Scotland was in the same situation. In 1982 they were to face Brazil, that fabled team that should have won the World Cup but failed.
Before kick-off the team captains, Sócrates and Graeme Souness, shook hands.
– May the best team win, said the judge.
– I f**king hope not, answered Souness.
Graham Potter dug up this team and took them to a dream match, in the World Cup final arena, against world champions and world stars.
May the best team win? I hope not.
The national team
