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All Rise...

  • Writer: Slim
    Slim
  • May 17, 2020
  • 5 min read

Today's blog is from our very own legal counsel and all round (he used to be very round) great guy, Jamie Reekie. Jamie tells us about his 10+ years at Norway Cup.


Back in the day, before Twitter let you to mouth off about anything and anyone to their virtual face, the good people of the internet congregated on messageboard forums to talk about their interests.  One such forum was RateTheRef, originally envisaged as a website that would allow users to rate the referees in high level matches.  Whilst the website didn’t really take off, the forum became home to hundreds of referees, referee sympathisers and some vocal referee non-sympathisers.


To me, RTR became a way of keeping in touch with English guys who I’d met at Butlins tournaments in Scotland and England (this was also before Facebook!) and, eventually, in 2007 a RTR meet up was organised for a week’s refereeing in Ayr on Scotland’s west coast.  That was my first, in person, encounter of Chris Rock and Slim.  Hungover, on the rickety old bus to the pitches, Rocky regaled me with stories about Norway Cup.  I knew about the tournament, not just from the tales on RTR, but also through a previous band of Scottish attendees who Chris mentioned in his blog, and I was sold.  Although the application process had completed by that time, Rocky was going to make an exception as a favour and I would be given a place for the summer.  Unfortunately, I sobered up and realised I was a skint student who needed to work the summer to survive (this was before Norwegian Air Shuttle was as cheap and prevalent as it is... or, was...) and so a couple of years passed before I was actually able to make the trip.


I remember Rocky phoning me one lunchtime in the week before Norway Cup 2010. My flight was due into Gardermoen just before midnight on the Friday and I wasn’t really sure how to get to the digs.  Chris told me that if he was still in town, I should find him for a beer and then we’d head to the school together.  I was reassured, though, that if I got on the 18 tram and get off at Sportsplassen I’d find it.  All of that, of course, was bollocks.  And, there was no mention of The Hill.  Mercifully, Pedr McMullan had been out for a shandy with a couple of Norwegians and was usefully wearing a Welsh FA polo shirt on the last tram.  I threw on my SFA jumper and looked over to him, lost.  It worked and I spent the rest of the night receiving a Welsh history lesson.  At least I had a bed...


We were moved to Holtet the next day and, again, l had to deploy the lost looking eyes.  Trying to find a room with some space (I would later learn that that was never going to happen!) I was grabbed by James Tedford who felt under some obligation to look after the new Scottish guy.  I know another newbie from that year who ended up in the room next door with some sort of development group from Cambridge who didn’t quite find the balance between serious and fun (no cans!).  He didn’t come back, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t been taken in by some NC legends like Sid, Sutts, Wee Gary, the Welshes. As I told him after a few too many easy riders in KFUM a couple of years ago, I’ll be forever grateful to James for doing that.


I reached Peak NC pretty early on.  My first game was on Furuset 2 between a Danish and a Faroese team with big Faisal and a Spanish girl on my lines.  There was also a Norwegian observer.  This was definitely the international party I’d come for. The observer didn’t speak terribly much English and, I was sure, slept through most of the first half.  I would later learn that this chap was The Walrus and was, almost certainly, asleep. Marks of 7.0 all round (the par score for the day).  From there, I think it was pretty much all Norwegian teams and colleagues all the way after that!


I’m not going to go through every year, but I have to say something about 2011.  It didn’t look like it was going to go ahead, with the Oslo bombings and Utøya shootings happening exactly a week before the start.  I remember spending the afternoon at work, streaming BBC News, aghast at the horror. If anything was going to be bigger than football, it was a tragedy like that, surely. But, they carried on.  There was an emotional charge in the air, in the city and around the tournament, that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.  Everyone who was there will remember the sight of all the roses around the city. 


I was lucky enough to given a line on the u19 final that year, which was a huge honour especially with all that was going on. It was particularly poignant when our now hosts, KFUM, pulled off a local victory.  I’m pretty sure that was the first time all four officials in a final team had been from the UK (we’d managed three quite a few times but there was usually a token Norwegian or Refexer) and, indeed, from the same room in the school!  The next time that happened was the Boys Elite in 2018, when I was again lucky enough to be involved.  Maybe they just don’t trust me without being bailed out by other Brits!  


The 2011 final, and the quarter final the day before, were two really enjoyable games with great colleagues.  But, my favourite memories of those couple of days are from that fine establishment, Destiny Cafe.  On the Thursday and Friday nights just about every member of the UK group was in there. This was in the days before we were all in one hall so coordinating a mass night out was more difficult. They were fantastic nights, helped by us outnumbering the junkies and pimps!Singing the trumpet fanfare to Coxy; young Welshy getting a new mum; and *that* dance off. It was brilliant. I also got the yellow t-shirt that year, but the less said about that...


There have been plenty changes over the 10 years I’ve made the trip.  The tournament’s got a bit smaller in the older age groups, though we seem to be doing more games than ever!  The move to KFUM could have been a real challenge with 50 of us in one room, but that’s worked out really well. The foods got worse. Then better. The Lions have been floated, which means we don’t have to all be Oliver Twist. Some things stay the same, though. The same guys spend the week smoking outside Brannfjell and have never been seen refereeing. And, I still get anxiety dreams about Slim’s speech. 


In my home office - the only place where football is allowed in my house! - there are plenty reminders of my time at Norway Cup: photos, medals, trophies, pennants from teams I’ve officiated over the years and, of course, my ten year Troll.  I find it’s difficult to explain to people who haven’t experienced Norway Cup just what that ugly thing means and represents.  The most valuable things I’ve taken away from ten trips to Ekeberg aren’t capable of being put on a shelf.  The experiences and friendships are what make Norway Cup what it is for the UK group.  It always amazes me how well the new guys settle in and that the rest of us can go a year without seeing most of the rest of the group but just pick up where we left off 51 weeks before.  I’m sure it will be the same in 2021.


Jamie


 
 
 

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