Bones knit. That is the one merciful thing about this injury and the reason Brann will talk about it more openly than they would about a knee. He will be back, and roughly when they say.
“I know what people will say. I know what I want, and it is here.” MC Oran had the fee agreed and the shirt ready; they did not have the player, and now they will not.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Daniel Bassi will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Eggert Aron Guðmundsson is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Brann this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Every long career reaches the week the last one is thought about. He would like it to be where he started, and Brann know now that the thought has arrived.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Fillip Jenssen Riise will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
“I want to be playing for trophies while my legs still let me.” Nothing in that sentence is a transfer request, and nobody at Brann heard it as anything else.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Eggert Aron Guðmundsson is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
It is never announced and it is entirely visible: the biggest afternoons of the season keep containing him. A press box works this out long before anybody at the club confirms a word of it.
Nothing in writing and nothing in public: a word about playing time, given face to face at Brann. The team sheets over the next month will show whether it was worth having.
“Thirty minutes, door closed, everything said. We shook hands after.” Whatever was in the room stayed in the room, and Telli Siwe trained the next morning like a man with less to carry.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Brann is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Brann this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Eggert Aron Guðmundsson was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Every manager keeps a short list in his head of the men he wants on the pitch when the stakes rise, and it is never published. The team sheets for the big afternoons say Garang Kuol is on it.
A year in and the language has not come, the city has not opened up, and he eats alone more often than anybody at Brann would like to admit. It is showing on Saturdays.
Two goals and a mark of 8.22 to go with them. Strikers are judged on afternoons like this one and remembered for far fewer of them than people imagine.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Brann they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Brann, and it is not being withdrawn.
The clubs have settled the fee and he has settled his wages. What remains is a medical and a photograph, and around Brann people have started saying his name in the past tense.
Two goals and a mark of 8.58 to go with them. Strikers are judged on afternoons like this one and remembered for far fewer of them than people imagine.
“It was not right for me. I am not going to explain why to anybody except the people I owe an explanation to.” A deal agreed between two clubs, and a player who declined to be part of it.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Brann have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
30 without defeat on their own grass. The pitch has not changed; the crowd has — louder earlier, and quicker to sense when the opposition would rather be somewhere else.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Sivert Sira Hansen will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
“I know what people will say. I know what I want, and it is here.” JS Kabylie had the fee agreed and the shirt ready; they did not have the player, and now they will not.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Brann, and it is not being withdrawn.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Brann is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Eggert Aron Guðmundsson and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
A goalkeeper’s error has no defender behind it to tidy it away. He knew before the ball crossed the line, the crowd knew a second later, and there is nothing anybody can say tonight.
“It was not right for me. I am not going to explain why to anybody except the people I owe an explanation to.” A deal agreed between two clubs, and a player who declined to be part of it.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Denis Videnović will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
Garang Kuol and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
Every run ends on an afternoon somebody had marked down as routine. This one went 5 matches, which is long enough that a town had stopped counting, and short enough that it will remember exactly who stopped it.
The injury that keeps coming back, keeps being rushed back from, and quietly costs more careers than the dramatic ones. 14 days is the estimate; the honest figure depends on whether anybody is patient.
In brief
Player ratingsJakob Segadal Hansen was on a different afternoon to everybody else
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Brann they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
Successful dribbles: 24. He went past people as if he had been told there was a prize for it, and by the end the full-back had stopped pretending to try.
Eggert Aron Guðmundsson and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
The first defeat in 5 matches. The manager will say it had to come; the dressing room will say it did not have to come against Valerenga; the supporters will say both, in that order, all week.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Brann can pretend not to have heard.
The last thing about a transfer that is still about the player is his signature on his own terms, and it is there. Brann have lost him in all but the paperwork.
The offer from Bodo/Glimt for Garang Kuol was heard out and sent back the same day. First bids are rarely meant to succeed; they are meant to find out how loudly the door closes.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Sander Granheim was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Every manager keeps a short list in his head of the men he wants on the pitch when the stakes rise, and it is never published. The team sheets for the big afternoons say Jakob Segadal Hansen is on it.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Haugesund waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Brann is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Valdemar Lund will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
Sofus Johannesen was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
17 signings in three months. Every one of them may be an upgrade and the team can still be worse for a while, which is the part of a rebuild that never appears in the transfer-window verdicts.
Every manager keeps a short list in his head of the men he wants on the pitch when the stakes rise, and it is never published. The team sheets for the big afternoons say Garang Kuol is on it.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Rosenborg waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Brann is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Brann can pretend not to have heard.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Harald Nilsen Tangen will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
He will play here until the summer and then walk out of the door for free, having already signed elsewhere. Supporters will manage the first part of that sentence; it is the second they will struggle with.
There is a version of every career where the player ends up somewhere he chose rather than somewhere that chose him. Villum Dalsgaard is living that version at Brann, and it tends to show in the first month.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Tobias Guddal will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Brann the goodbyes have quietly begun.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Sander Granheim is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Brann this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Squad8 Jan 2035
14 new faces, and Brann are still learning each other
A squad rebuilt inside one window pays for it in a currency nobody budgets for. The football is not worse than the sum of the players; it is worse than the sum of the players who have played together before.
“We keep meeting, and we keep leaving the room with the same numbers we walked in with.” Another round of talks at Brann, another week without a signature from Emil Hillestad.
Nobody at Brann will say this on the record and the team sheets have been saying it for weeks. There is a small group in every squad who get picked when the fixture is difficult, and he has joined it.
In brief
The dugoutDion Beljo is still being punished for one mistake
There are footballers who have a good season and footballers a season is remembered for, and the second kind get their names read out in a hall in the summer. Brann will be quietly delighted and privately nervous.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Brann is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“Nobody here is above being told.” It was not said with a name attached, but the dressing room can count, and so can everybody who was listening.
Squad1 Jan 2035
João Rego falls out with a teammate over standards
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
Every manager keeps a short list in his head of the men he wants on the pitch when the stakes rise, and it is never published. The team sheets for the big afternoons say Daniel Bassi is on it.
A year in and the city has not opened up, the language has not come, and lunch is eaten alone more often than anybody at Brann would admit. It shows on Saturdays.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Brann they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
“I have ambitions, and I would like the club to share them.” Nobody has asked to leave and nobody has been shown the door — but a player chooses that sentence carefully, and a boardroom hears it exactly as it was meant.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Eggert Aron Guðmundsson is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
Nobody at Brann will say this on the record and the team sheets have been saying it for weeks. There is a small group in every squad who get picked when the fixture is difficult, and he has joined it.
It has been denied twice and printed three times, which is the usual arithmetic. Until Leandro Martins signs something — a contract at Brann or anywhere else — this column belongs to him.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Brann is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
20 goals in 25 games at Odd — numbers that travel home faster than he does. Somebody at Brann updates a spreadsheet every Monday, and it makes better reading each week.
Leandro Martins was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Eggert Aron Guðmundsson is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
It is never announced and it is entirely visible: the biggest afternoons of the season keep containing him. A press box works this out long before anybody at the club confirms a word of it.
Squad16 Oct 2034
5 new faces, and Brann are still learning each other
A squad rebuilt inside one window pays for it in a currency nobody budgets for. The football is not worse than the sum of the players; it is worse than the sum of the players who have played together before.
He is not being dropped. There is simply nowhere in the formation Brann are playing to put a man who does what he does, which is a harder thing to be told than any team sheet.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Brann is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“I have ambitions, and I would like the club to share them.” Nobody has asked to leave and nobody has been shown the door — but a player chooses that sentence carefully, and a boardroom hears it exactly as it was meant.
Match7 Oct 2034
Another one collected away from home
5 on the bounce on the road for Brann. The coaches leave early, arrive at unlovely grounds in the dark, and keep coming home with three points.
There is a version of every career where the player ends up somewhere he chose rather than somewhere that chose him. Telli Siwe is living that version at Brann, and it tends to show in the first month.
A goalkeeper's career is counted in the games nobody scored in, and Pontus Dahlberg now has 99 of them across 330 appearances. Nothing about that number was luck.