Norway Vikings: World Cup Dress Up Drama
Meanwhile, Norway — who haven't graced a World Cup since 1998 — treats their return like a medieval reenactment society meeting.
They said it couldn't get more absurd. Then Norway showed up dressed as Vikings.
While FIFA scrambles to fill empty seats and sorts through visa nightmares that would make Kafka weep, the Norwegian national team decided this was the perfect moment for a themed photoshoot. Horned helmets, chain mail, the full theatrical package. Because apparently when your governing body is melting down in real time, the correct response is elaborate cosplay.
This is what the beautiful game has become in 2026. A tournament that kicks off tomorrow with 180,000 unsold tickets, referees being turned away at airports, and fan allocations revoked three days before kickoff. Meanwhile, Norway — who haven't graced a World Cup since 1998 — treats their return like a medieval reenactment society meeting.
The irony cuts deeper than a Viking blade. While FIFA president Gianni Infantino faces accusations of turning the organisation into an "embarrassment," Norway's squad commits to the bit with admirable commitment to chaos. Their behind-the-scenes footage shows grown men worth millions giggling in fake beards, apparently unaware their sport's credibility is haemorrhaging faster than ticket sales.
But perhaps they understand something the rest of us have missed. When the machine breaks down this spectacularly — when your top African referee gets denied entry because bureaucracy beats football, when your fans can't get tickets they were promised, when your own tournament feels like it's being run by people who've never seen a football — maybe the only sane response is insanity.
Spain remain betting favourites despite Lamine Yamal's injury concerns. Brazil have climbed back into contention under Carlo Ancelotti's guidance. England arrived with their usual mix of hope and historical disappointment, though Thomas Tuchel's squad selections have raised eyebrows from Cornwall to the Cotswolds.
None of that matters if the tournament becomes a logistical disaster wrapped in bureaucratic incompetence. Mexico '86 gave us Maradona's hand of God and the goal that followed — moments that transcended sport and entered mythology. This World Cup threatens to give us empty stadiums and administrative chaos.
The Norwegians, at least, seem ready for whatever comes next. They've already embraced the absurd. When your tournament feels like it's being organised by people who think football is something you play with your hands, why not lean into the madness?
Tomorrow, 32 nations begin their pursuit of immortality. Some will find it. Others will discover that even Vikings can't pillage their way past proper planning.
