THE ITALIANS, FAVORITES FOR THE CUP? WE CAN DOUBT IT NOW BECAUSE THE NORWAYS WERE CLOSE TO BEATING THEM!
— Robert Bre | 05/06/1938 —

Italy: Olivieri; Monzeglio, Rava; Serantoni, Andreolo, Locatelli; Pasinati, Meazza, Piola, Ferrari, Ferraris II.

Norway: Johansen; Johannesen, Holmsen; Henriksen, Eriksen, Holmberg; Frantzen, Kvammen, Brynildsen, Isaksen, Brustad.

The Marseille street, with its scent of an exotic grocery store, its plump filstonnes, its advantageous sons in their Shanghai blues, its slow khaki riflemen, its travelers, its tricolor sailors and its petty bourgeois who seem to have been created to justify the portrait of the legendary Marius, the streets of Marseille — even the cool little alleys where families lounge in the stream — yesterday spoke exclusively of football. We had forgotten the upcoming electoral discussions, the great bullfight of Lalanda and Victoriano de la Ferna, we had forgotten the selection of the quadrettes of boules.

It started at the station where the driver had all the difficulty in the world to tear himself away from the fascinating discussion with rival colleagues, a discussion in which he supported the merits of Ferraris against those of Colaussi. On the way, and while driving at full speed in the style of self-respecting Marseille drivers, he snatched an interview from me. My colorful suitcase and my "sharp" speech had revealed the stranger to him.

"Are you coming for the game?" I confessed and got out of the taxi armed with complete documentation. It was certain that Italy would beat Norway. Italy, for 16 years, had not played in Marseille, they were going to play as if on their own ground, there was, so to speak, no match.

Under the golden sky, in front of the weathered hovels of Saint-Jean, I think of the Norwegians, prey to nostalgia for their aquamarine-colored sky. I also think of their own sun, of their breeze coming from the fjords, of their season which is the opposite of ours. Play, for them, in such weather? You might as well ask the Angmagssaliks Eskimos dear to the Greenlander Emile Victor.

What did you want the Norwegians to do against the combined elements of the solar attack, the Italian attack and the spell? That they die?

This is what they did, but in style. And, back in the cool of their green Norway, they will be able to tell the elves of Nordic legend that the cold Norwegians made the Italians warm.

There were around 20.000 of them, busy roasting patiently on the elegant grill of the Prado stadium when kick-off was given.

Only 20.000?

Y
Yes, but rest assured, everything was praised: "it was the resellers who were a fiasco for having shouted too much — or made people shout — that we were going to play with closed offices".

THE NORWEGIANS ALMOST OPENED THE SCORE.

Contrary to what one might think, the Italians being the favorites of the forecasters, if not those of the Marseille public, it was the Norwegians who almost opened the score after a few seconds of play.

The Italians did not take long to take exemplary revenge from this sudden attack, scoring after a quick and beautiful action in which Piola, Ferraris, in order took part.

But this opinion had to be changed when the Norwegians began to organize themselves. It soon became apparent that the players, except the goalkeeper and the two backs, were playing almost every position haphazardly, depending on how the game was presented.

THE ITALIANS FORCED ON THE DEFENSIVE.

And Italy had to content itself on many occasions with defending itself.

In short, the first half was whistled while the Norwegians seemed to have gained at least a moral advantage over their opponents, since this superiority was not reflected in the score, and on the contrary Italy was leading by a goal to zero.

The Italians can burn a candle in honor of Olivieri who saved an unstoppable goal on two occasions, helped by the posts and, also, by the clumsiness of the attackers. Incredibly, we could see the phlegmatic Kvannen and the powerful Brynyldsen very often dominating Ferrari and Meazza.

The second half was to provide confirmation of things glimpsed during the first. The Italians do not present a great team this year. Apart from Ferrari and Olivieri, their players do not otherwise stand out from the good international average. In summary, it seems impossible to consider them as tournament favorites any longer.

ANNOYANCE.

Once again, from the start, Norway dominates slightly although they have to concede a corner. The game is getting tough, the quality is getting poorer, the Italians are getting angry, and the Norwegians are not far from doing the same.

The referee, Mr. Beranek, a German, distributes numerous free kicks with composure and authority. He will be perfect until the extension, but then he will weaken and appear more tired than the players: he will make demagogic decisions, with the sole concern of not displeasing one or the other camp.

THE ITALIANS ATTACK, BUT...

Towards the middle of the half, Italy, which was living on its lead, trembling before each rush of the tough Norwegians, went seriously on the offensive. We could believe that she was finally going to get the better of these Norwegians, with their unexpected and stubborn resistance, especially since the Nordics were showing signs of fatigue. There were seven minutes left to play.

BRUSTAD EQUALIZES

The result of 1 to 0 seemed certain. When suddenly a redoubled pass between Brynyldsen and Brustad allowed the latter to place the ball in Olivieri's gate. This goal, which called everything into question, drew screams of joy from the public, who are always in favor of the weakest and who fervently encouraged the Norwegian players.

But the Italian tribulations were not to stop there. The “blue and white” had barely had this unfortunate goal when Brustad hit the mark again. Were the Norwegians going to give the sporting world the extraordinary surprise of beating Italy? No, because the referee was forced to refuse the goal, offside having been noted.

It was therefore in an extremely troubled, pathetic atmosphere that the referee whistled the regulation end.

THE WINNING GOAL

The extension consummated the defeat of the Northerners. However, they started with heart, settling for a moment in front of the Italian goals. But soon there was a very nice offensive movement from the Transalpins and, on a bad save from goalkeeper Johansen, Piola scored the second goal. A goal which, after all, confirmed the victory of intelligent football over stronger football.

ITALY DOES NOT HAVE THE PACE.

If we want to make a quick critique of the two teams, let's say that the Italian team does not have, far from it, the pace but it has elements which will probably allow it to find itself again before the end of the tournament . Otherwise misfortune will be upon her.

In any case, it seems that the French team, playing with heart, would have been successful in front of the Italian team today, in Marseille.

The Nordic goal was clearly insufficient, we cannot push the ball without damage into the feet of Piola or Ferrari.

Let us cite Henriksen, whose football is apparently rudimentary but who is powerful and dangerous. It's a shame that he didn't hold out physically until the end.