As time wore down and Switzerland strained to restore parity in a match that had looked so comfortably within their grasp, the clattering encouragement of a cowbell sounded from St Jakob-Park’s west stand. It may unwittingly have been tolling for the home nation, whose campaign now stands on a knife-edge after one day. The occasion’s celebratory feel had largely been matched by the vibrancy of their football; this, though, was ultimately a barely deserved triumph of Norwegian experience over local expectation.
“This Euro arrives a bit too early,” La Liberté had cautioned its readers over their matchday breakfast. It was hardly a rousing tone-setter but perhaps the point was fair. Nobody watching Pia Sundhage’s players work through the thirds, tear away down the wings and pin their opponents back for the first 50 minutes of this showpiece would have questioned the technical quality or intent of a team natives have taken some persuading to love. In the end knowhow and a little luck, those nebulous descriptors that somehow become starkly real in tournament football, inhabited the shirts in white and meant the mood was drained decisively.
