The worst thing Norway can do tonight is play as if the hard part has already been done.
That is the temptation, of course. After 28 years away from the World Cup, simply seeing Norway back on the fixture list feels like an event in itself. Iraq in the opening match. France and Senegal later. A generation of Norwegian supporters who have never watched their country at this level. Haaland. Ødegaard. The whole thing practically invites a bit of national mist in the eyes.
It makes people soft. Not the players necessarily, but the room around them: the coverage, the supporters, the expectations. Everyone starts talking about destiny when the real question is usually much uglier. Can Norway win second balls? Can they defend crosses? Can they stop the match from becoming slow, broken and irritating?
Norway’s opener in Foxborough is not a ceremonial return. It is a match Norway are expected to win, which is exactly what makes it awkward. These are the games that punish teams who arrive carrying too much emotion and not enough patience.
Iraq are not here to decorate Norway’s comeback. They are not a warm-up act before the serious football begins. Solbakken has said as much himself. Reuters reported that he praised Iraq’s defensive structure, their strength from crosses, and the experience of coach Graham Arnold, who took Australia to the knockout stage at the 2022 World Cup.
That is not the language of a manager expecting a parade.
Norway have earned the right to be taken seriously. Reuters reported that Martin Ødegaard has brushed aside injury concerns before the opener, while Solbakken confirmed that both Ødegaard and Erling Haaland are fit. Norway’s qualifying record was not built on hope either: eight wins from eight, 37 goals scored, five conceded, and a finish above Italy and Israel in qualifying.
Still, qualification football is one thing. Tournament football has a nasty habit of becoming smaller, tighter and more annoying.
That is where Iraq can cause trouble.
A team like Norway wants space. It wants Ødegaard turning between lines, Haaland threatening the shoulder, Nusa running at defenders before the shape is set. Iraq will want the opposite. They will want Norway looking sideways. They will want fouls, restarts, set pieces, crossed balls, delays, and the sort of match where the favorite starts checking the clock before halftime.
Norway’s first 20 minutes matter more than the anthem and all the soft-focus nostalgia around it.
Not because they must score immediately. That would be nice, obviously. But because they must establish the terms of the match. Move the ball quickly. Force Iraq backwards. Make the second balls Norway’s ball. Do not let the evening settle into that familiar tournament pattern where the underdog survives, grows, and starts to believe the favorite is nervous.
There is always a moment in these matches when you can feel the game changing. It may be a loose touch from a center-back. A delayed throw-in. A cheap corner. A forward waving his arms because the pass did not come early enough. Nothing dramatic. Just small signs that the favorite is no longer playing the opponent, but the occasion.
Norway cannot go there.
Haaland will take most of the attention, and that is fair. Sixteen goals in qualifying is not background decoration. Solbakken’s line to reporters — “Let’s give the ball to Haaland” — was funny because it was also true. Norway do not need to pretend the plan is more mysterious than it is. The ball has to arrive where Haaland can hurt Iraq.
But the real match may belong to the players around him.
Ødegaard has to decide the rhythm. Sørloth can make the game physically uncomfortable. Nusa can give Norway directness if Iraq retreat too deep. The defenders, meanwhile, have to avoid turning Iraq’s crosses and set pieces into a completely unnecessary national stress test. Norway’s attacking options are among the most dangerous in the tournament, but there are still defensive questions around the larger fairytale.
And yes, that word — fairytale — is already doing too much work.
Norway do not need a fairytale tonight. They need a clean, adult performance. A fairytale can come later, if it insists. Against Iraq, the job is more ordinary and less romantic: pass quicker, win duels, defend the box, finish the chances. There are worse ways to spend an evening.
That is why this opener matters.
Norway do not need to beat Iraq beautifully. They need to beat them professionally. There is a difference. A beautiful win would be welcome, and nobody in Oslo will complain if Haaland turns the night into his own private shooting drill. But the more important thing is control: no panic, no indulgence, no long stretches where Iraq are allowed to turn Norway’s return into a wrestling match.
Senegal come next. France wait after that. Dropping points tonight would not end Norway’s tournament, especially in the expanded World Cup format, but it would change the whole tone of the group. Suddenly the comeback story becomes a calculation. Suddenly the Senegal match becomes heavier. Suddenly France are not just France, but the wall at the end of a narrow hallway.
There is also the simple human side of it.
Many Norwegian fans will watch late into the night. Some in Oslo may have the very Norwegian problem of celebrating a World Cup return and then wondering how to get home afterwards. Reuters reported that tens of thousands of fans could struggle with transport after the match because of limited late-night service.
One can almost hear the conversation already: “We waited 28 years for this, and now Ruter has gone to bed.”
That is football romance, Norwegian edition. A nation finally returns to the World Cup, and someone still has to check the timetable.
But Solbakken’s players cannot think like supporters. They cannot spend the evening feeling the weight of 1998, or the joy of seeing Norway’s flag back on the tournament screen, or the fact that children who were not alive the last time Norway played a World Cup match are now old enough to have opinions about pressing structure.
They have one job tonight. Play and win,