Before Norway rowed with its players on the pitch in New Jersey, the supporters had already taken the rhythm underground.

A short New York Post video shows Norwegian fans turning a New York subway car into their own moving supporters’ section: red shirts, arms forward, bodies rocking, voices rising in the Viking row.

Here, the World Cup stops being a fixture list. It becomes people carrying a piece of home into places that were not built for them. A subway car becomes a terrace. A city used to noise gets a different kind of noise for once.

For Norway, the scene matters. A whole generation of Norwegian fans had never seen their men’s national team play in a World Cup. They did not arrive in America quietly. They brought flags, chants and that strange rowing motion that looks both ancient and slightly absurd.

Good. Football could use more of that.

Later, the same rhythm appeared inside the stadium, with Norway’s players joining the Viking row on the pitch and supporters answering from the stands. But the subway clip caught something earlier and rawer: a country on its way to the match, already believing the night might belong to them.