“Chief warden Nils Lannerborg ran around wearing a loudspeaker and sorted people into the right booths. 200 janitors pushed on. Nobody grumbled.”
“Pack up, Djurgår’n is poor and needs cuddling,” sobbed Mr. all-singer Harry Brandelius. He drowned in all the commotion. Only a musical genius could decide when he moved from speech to song.”
So described Svenska Dagbladet the hour-long queues outside Råsunda before the last round of the allsvenskan in 1959, when Djurgården won allsvenskan gold.
In recent years, audience interest in the Allsvenskan has increased and increased, and last year the match average reached over 10,000 people, this year it will be higher. But we still haven’t reached the football fever that prevailed between the late 40s and the late 60s, or the average attendance of 13,369 from the record year of 1959.
“Allsvenskan, the series with charm”, was the headline of a full page in Expressen in July 1950 before the Allsvenskan premiere.
“The question is whether so many people have ever seen football in Sweden at the same time,” Aftonbladet wrote on its front page after the last round of the Allsvenskan in 1959. A total of 101,617 people went around Sweden to a match in the Allsvenskan on October 11, the newspaper stated. Photo: Facsimile Aftonbladet
The football series “has become one of the nation’s dearest treasures and one of its most reliable topics of discussion,” the paper wrote. “A relationship that no professional recruitment in the world is supposed to be able to do anything about.”
Four years later broke three attendance records on the same day in three derbies, on 14 May 1954. At Ullevi in Gothenburg, at Olympia in Helsingborg and at Råsunda in Stockholm.
Djurgården’s players had taken half a day off from work and gathered at Djurgården for relaxation and a bite to eat. Due to the traffic chaos before the match, they had difficulty getting from there to Råsunda, DN wrote. The trunk with shoes and clothes also got stuck in traffic, but eventually arrived.
“Therefore, the audience didn’t have to see Djurgården wading in barefoot in swimming trunks.”
39,023 people saw AIK and Djurgården play 0–0.
“Pillow warriors more accurate than forwards. Spex på Ullevi”, was the headline in Aftonbladet on May 15, 1954. “A local derby in the Allsvenskan, whether the venue is Råsunda or Ullevi, is first and foremost a public festival, an event that no one wants to neglect”, wrote the newspaper. Photo: Facsimile Aftonbladet
In Gothenburg, there was a pillow war at the same time, Bengt Grive reported for Aftonbladet. At Ullevi, where it was 1-1 between Gais and IFK Göteborg In front of 30,415 people, you could rent seat cushions for 35 öre. Right after the final whistle, people started throwing them at each other.
“To begin with, the police and older congregation smiled a little indulgently, but the war increased in strength and raged at its worst for a long time after the end of the playing time. Hundreds of pillows swirled around like giant bats in the twilight,” the paper wrote.
Just a policeman tried to intervene, but had to flee to avoid being buried in pillows. “The scandal was complete.”
Like today, Allsvenskan was described in the 50s as a pleasure for everyone in society, regardless of profession, class and gender. People could start queuing in the middle of the night for tickets.
It brought a lot of revenue, but in Sweden it was not allowed to pay players. Stars disappeared as professionals to Italy.
A young lady was injured in the eye in Råsunda’s stands in the last round in 1959, which DN reported on. Photo: Facsimile Dagens Nyheter
“The fight for the audience and the money means that top football ‘automatically’ takes on a fully or semi-professional character, facts that you must not turn a blind eye to,” wrote Expressen’s Bertil Jansson in a column.
The biggest the audience team was Örgryte, who broke the Swedish audience record at the time even in the qualifiers for Allsvenskan, against Landskrona Bois in 1958.
That year the WC was also played in Sweden. The Allsvenskan’s biggest audience year in 1959 came in the wake of the championship, it was also the first after the season was changed to be played from spring to autumn.
Image 1 of 2 Rune Börjesson scored two of Örgryte’s goals in the crowd record match. Photo: Kamerareportage/TT Image 2 of 2 On June 3, 1959, over 52,000 spectators came to Nya Ullevi to watch the derby between IFK Gothenburg and Örgryte. Photo: Camera reportage/TT
Öi’s total home and away crowd average of 22,486 from 1959 is still a Swedish record, and the highest crowd figure in an Allsvenskan match is still from June 3, 1959, when 52,194 were at Ullevi and saw Örgryte beat IFK Göteborg 3–0.
Many of them probably wanted to see WC hero Gunnar Gren, who was playing coach for Öis, but he had a stomach ulcer, which he himself thought was due to his wife having given birth, he told DN.
– Stories like that put pressure on me psychologically, especially as my wife hasn’t been very careful.
“The Allsvenskan is the Swedish football people’s cuddly pig no. 1 – an incredibly popular institution.” Expressen paid tribute to Allsvenskan ahead of the series’ 27th edition in 1950. Photo: Faksimil Expressen
It was the opposing club’s vice-chairman Gösta Karlsson, who also happened to be a doctor, who had made the diagnosis.
The return meeting between the teams was the premiere for electric lights in Swedish football. Kicking off at 19:00, 46,294 people witnessed the historic event on August 20 at Ullevi.
The players had nothing to complain about, but the public was not completely satisfied, wrote Aftonbladet. Especially not the first part of the “light half” when “daylight broke in in a way that made quick situations and attacks impossible to perceive”.
“Gren’s order on fish lire broke the IFK”, was otherwise Aftonbladet’s headline. Gunnar Gren had whispered in the ear of star Agne Simonsson to take it easy when Öis led 1–0, and it was controversial.
“Örgryte is digging the grave of Swedish football”, wrote Arbetet in capital letters.
That Öis had put himself on the defensive to guard his leadership was not naturally accepted.
– Imagine if all teams applied the same methods, said Gösta Karlsson, the IFK doctor and vice-chairman who stopped Gunnar Gren.
DN’s reporting plane took an aerial photo of Råsunda and the hour-long queues outside. The picture graced the front page after the final round of the Allsvenskan in 1959. Photo: Faksimil Dagens Nyheter
He compared it to IFK Malmö who were known for the same “boring style”.
But DN’s Bobby Byström considered that the first half was the best football he had seen since Brazil against the Soviet Union in the World Cup.
The 1959 season ended on 11 October with long queues outside Råsunda. Three teams had a chance to win the series in the last round, Djurgården did it after 1–1 against IFK Göteborg.
“The weather was grey, with occasional glimmers of sunshine. People came in leather jackets and Icelandic sweaters. They had bags and cases of thermos coffee and sandwiches in incredibly long lines. The sausage men got burned this Sunday,” SvD wrote.
The audience figure was 50,750, “but then the office would have had to deal with the almost two thousand free license holders”, according to DN, which wrote that 10,000 were allowed to go home without a ticket, among other things because people did not crowd together.
“What we cannot do, as a nation, is pack football stands full.”
In two pictures, Expressen showed how the first half was played in daylight and the second in electric lights, after the first illuminated match in Sweden. Photo: Facsimile Expressen
“A young, smelly man” who stood at the most expensive gate already at seven in the morning was first in line, according to SvD. “He was wearing a travel radio and vest pocket chess. Every now and then he bit off a long French.”
A young lady was injured in the match. When Gothenburg supporters threw hard objects at a placard held up by zookeepers, she turned around, and got something thrown in her eye. Maybe a nut, according to SvD. She was taken to Karolinska, which informed the press that she could lose the sight in her eye.
Princess Desirée was at the match, and “smiled with amusement from behind the crown cloth at the sweaty clubmates”, SvD wrote.
Desirée had been granted permanent membership in Djurgården by the board, according to DN. Her sister Birgitta, a member of Djurgården’s slalom section, was in Germany but had “requested to be telegraphed about the outcome of the Sunday match at Råsunda, a request that was of course granted”.
Read more:
They are working for AIK to break the Scandinavian audience record
Public success in the Allsvenskan – several clubs record record numbers
Football Follies and Nostalgic Nights: A Look Back at the Allsvenskan
Ah, the Allsvenskan! Where the crowds are as enthusiastic as the weather is unpredictable, and where footballers can become legends while simultaneously struggling to dress themselves in traffic jams. Yes, dear friends, let’s take a trip down memory lane—specifically to 1959, a year so resonant that even your grandma feels nostalgic when discussing it. And I assure you, she had some wild times—probably more than you’re aware of!
Picture this: Chief warden Nils Lannerborg, in a fashion statement that screams “I’m here to help, but first, let me blast you with sound!”, valiantly directing the masses towards their rightful booths. Meanwhile, 200 janitors? Certainly sounds like the best licensed cover band you never knew you needed! And unsurprisingly, no one was grumbling. I mean, who could complain while awaiting the majestic spectacle of football? Clearly, they were all too busy mentally preparing for their own versions of live performance theatre—just without the backstage snacks!
Amid this chaos, we encounter the ever-emo Mr. Harry Brandelius, sobbing melodramatically for Djurgår’n as he drowns in a cacophony of fans. One must wonder if his tears were purely heartfelt or perhaps a ploy to bring forth spontaneous musical numbers. “Cuddle the poor Djurgården!” he cried, mixing a delightful cocktail of sport and wholesome sentiment. Only a true musical genius could switch from heartfelt speech to a show-stopping performance without missing a beat. Tragically, he may have needed to consult a mood lighting expert. After all, there’s nothing mediocre about melancholy in football!
Attendance: The Fever That Gripped a Nation
Fast forward to October 11, 1959; the Allsvenskan was not just a football series, but an exquisite national treasure! With an audience of 101,617—who knew you could fit that many Swedes in one place? It was like IKEA’s checkout line, but with more fervor and perhaps fewer meatballs. The absolute energy radiating from this gathering was indeed combustible enough to ignite any nation’s passion for football!
Sadly, as much as we adore our beloved Allsvenskan, things have cooled a tad over the years. Not quite as bustling as the bourbon-soaked nights of the late ’40s through the ’60s, when stadiums were filled to the brim with over-excited fans—13,369 in attendance, mind you! Alas, we are living in a time when even the football fever seems to have caught a cold. The attendance figures this year may surpass the oh-so-inviting 10,000 average, but one ponders; will we ever recreate the magic of yesteryear?
Pillow Fights and Traffic Jam Shenanigans
The matches themselves were filled with dizzying moments, like the infamous pillow war at Ullevi—a scene that epitomized Swedish football magic, if I might say so. Forget about the score; the real entertainment was watching spectators transforming into human cannonballs, hurling cheap seat cushions around like they were at an overzealous birthday party!
And let’s not skip on the poor Djurgården players, valiantly trying to embody ‘the warrior spirit’ while stuck in their own personal traffic hell. It’s all fun and games until your teammates show up in flip-flops and swimming trunks! Talk about ‘barefoot and carefree’. Next time you grumble about missing kickoff, I challenge you to imagine showing up without your shoes! Spoiler alert: no one wants to be that guy.
A Glimmer of Hope, or Just a Glimmer?
Even as the Allsvenskan dazzled the nation, it did spark some eyebrows in the media. Critics pointed fingers, proclaiming that the national sport had been turned into something resembling a circus. And admittedly, they had a point: the perfect blend of athletic prowess, drama, and a hint of ‘what on earth just happened?’. Ultimately, one could argue that an audience of over 50,000 isn’t just there to watch football; they want entertainment on several levels—catching a goal, catching a laugh, and possibly catching a rogue pillow.
A hard lesson was learned, though. As enticing as football is, money was the true master of the game, casting shadows over its purity with financial strings that led players to greener pastures—like Italy. Naturally, who could resist the allure of pasta and sunshine? Even the greats had to eat!
And So, History Lives On…
In summary, the Allsvenskan is so much more than just a series of football matches—it’s a delightful spectacle filled with drama, exploits, and the charming idiosyncrasies that only come with years of play. From warden shenanigans to the gloriously chaotic environment that only sports can create, we’re left with a rich tapestry of memories stitched together by passionate players and devoted fans. Here’s hoping that the spirit lives on and that we eventually hit those glorious attendance numbers once more. Who knows? Perhaps Mr. Brandelius will emerge from the shadows, crooning for another cuddle. Now that’s a concert we’d all pay to see!
Amidst the hustle and bustle, Chief Warden Nils Lannerborg energetically navigated the crowd with a loudspeaker, efficiently directing hundreds of attendees into their designated booths for the much-anticipated match. Unfazed by the hectic environment, 200 determined janitors forged ahead, and remarkably, not a single soul complained.
The sounds of the crowd drowned out his voice, but Mr. all-singer Harry Brandelius, choked with emotion, lamented, “Pack up, Djurgår’n is poor and needs some tender loving care.” As the chaos ensued around him, it became clear that only a musical genius could discern the perfect moment to transition from solemn speech to stirring song, capturing the spirit of the occasion.
So described Svenska Dagbladet the hour-long queues that wrapped around Råsunda Stadium before the climactic final round of the Allsvenskan in 1959, a momentous event where Djurgården clinched the prestigious Allsvenskan championship. This historic match ignited electric excitement among fans.
In recent years, audience interest in the Allsvenskan has seen a significant surge, with last year’s average attendance surpassing 10,000 and set to climb even higher this season. However, the fervor for football has yet to reach the exhilarating levels experienced between the late 1940s and the late 1960s, when the record attendance peaked at an impressive average of 13,369 in 1959.
“Allsvenskan, the series with charm,” boldly announced a full-page headline in Expressen in July 1950, just before the highly anticipated premiere of the Allsvenskan season.
Reflecting on the historical significance, Aftonbladet posed a thought-provoking question on its front page: “The question is whether so many people have ever seen football in Sweden at the same time?” After the conclusion of the Allsvenskan in 1959, a staggering total of 101,617 individuals journeyed across Sweden to witness the matches held on October 11, as reported by the newspaper.
The newspaper further elaborated that the football series “has become one of the nation’s dearest treasures and one of its most reliable topics of discussion,” a fixture in the fabric of Swedish culture that no external professional recruitment could ever alter.
Four years later, football fans witnessed a remarkable event as three attendance records shattered on the same day during three thrilling derbies on May 14, 1954, showcasing the growing popularity of the sport.
As excitement built for the matches, Djurgården’s players carved out a half-day break from their work commitments, converging at Djurgården for some well-deserved relaxation and a meal. However, the notorious traffic chaos that preceded the match made their journey to Råsunda a challenging endeavor, as noted by DN. Their trunk filled with shoes and uniforms fell victim to the gridlock but ultimately managed to arrive just in time.
With 39,023 onlookers in attendance, spectators were treated to a thrilling showdown between AIK and Djurgården, which ended in a hard-fought 0-0 draw.
In a lighthearted account, Aftonbladet reported on the convivial atmosphere at Ullevi, which was simultaneously hosting a spirited pillow war, spurred by excitement over the Gais and IFK Göteborg match. Fans, numbering 30,415, could rent seat cushions for just 35 öre. Once the final whistle blew, pandemonium ensued as cushions flew through the air like giant bats in the fading light, prompting smiles from some police officers as they observed the comedy unfold.
Just one policeman tried to maintain control but had to retreat to escape being buried in a sea of flying pillows, leaving behind an utterly chaotic scene, amusingly dubbed “the scandal that was complete.”
As was the case then, the Allsvenskan, during the 1950s, was celebrated as a joyful occasion uniting individuals from all walks of life, regardless of profession, class, or gender. Fans eagerly began queuing for tickets in the wee hours of the morning, reflecting their dedication.
The burgeoning revenue from the matches was laudable, yet a loophole in Swedish law prevented clubs from paying players, resulting in many stars departing to pursue professional careers in Italy.
At the last round in 1959, a young lady was injured in the eye amidst the crowd at Råsunda, prompting headlines in DN that highlighted the chaotic nature of the event.
The biggest the audience team was Örgryte, who achieved a significant audience record during qualifiers for Allsvenskan against Landskrona Bois in 1958.
That year, the World Cup captivated the nation, and the Allsvenskan’s most significant attendance year, in 1959, arose in the aftermath of this championship, marking a pivotal change in the league’s schedule to follow a spring-to-autumn format.
Öis’s staggering total crowd average of 22,486 from the year 1959 remains an enduring Swedish record, and the highest single-match attendance in Allsvenskan history still belongs to June 3, 1959, when 52,194 spectators gathered to witness Örgryte triumph over IFK Göteborg with a score of 3-0.
Many of them no doubt came to see WC hero Gunnar Gren, the playing coach for Öis. Unfortunately, he was suffering from a stomach ulcer, which he attributed to the stress of his wife’s recent childbirth, as he disclosed in an interview.
Ultimately, “The Allsvenskan is the Swedish football people’s cuddly pig no. 1 – an incredibly popular institution,” asserted Expressen with vigor, celebrating the league ahead of its 27th edition in the summer of 1950.
The match between the teams was eagerly anticipated, marking the debut of electric lights in the realm of Swedish football. A captivating assembly of 46,294 spectators witnessed this historic occasion on August 20 at Ullevi.
The players had nothing to complain about, but the public was not completely satisfied, penned Aftonbladet. They particularly voiced their displeasure regarding the first segment of the “light half” when “daylight flooded in, rendering quick plays and attacks nearly impossible to follow.”
“Gren’s order on fish lire broke the IFK,” remarked Aftonbladet, referencing a controversial moment when Gunnar Gren discreetly advised star player Agne Simonsson to play it cautious while Öis led the match 1-0, a strategy that stirred public discontent.
That Öis had opted for a defensive stance to safeguard their lead was met with disapproval among fans and officials alike.
DN’s reporting plane captured a striking aerial image of Råsunda and the sprawling lines of supporters awaiting entry, which occupied the front page following the 1959 Allsvenskan finale.
The 1959 season culminated on October 11 with long queues wrapping around Råsunda Stadium. Three teams were in the running for the championship, but Djurgården ultimately secured the title following a 1-1 draw with IFK Göteborg.
The weather during the match was typically grey, with intermittent shafts of sunlight piercing through the clouds. Enthusiastic fans donned leather jackets and Icelandic sweaters, clutching bags filled with thermos coffee and sandwiches while standing in incredibly lengthy lines. As the game unfolded, the sausage vendors found themselves overwhelmed.
The audience figure was reported to be 50,750, which DN highlighted could have been impacted by nearly two thousand free license holders, underlining the need for organizers to manage crowds more effectively, allowing approximately 10,000 individuals to enter without tickets due to a lack of crowding.
A young gentleman, referred to as “a young, smelly man,” who had camped out at the most exclusive entrance since seven in the morning, was the first in line according to SvD. He occupied his time with a travel radio and pocket chess game, occasionally biting into a long French baguette.
A young lady suffered an injury during the match when venerable Gothenburg supporters hurled objects at a sign held by zookeepers. Tragically, something struck her eye—potentially a nut, as speculated by SvD. Medical personnel rushed her to Karolinska for treatment, where she was informed there was a risk of losing sight in her injured eye.
Princess Desirée graced the match with her presence, smiling amusedly behind the crown cloth at the sweaty clubmates. In a nod to her loyalty, she had been granted lifetime membership in Djurgården by the club’s board, illustrating the league’s deep ties within Swedish society. Meanwhile, her sister Birgitta, a member of Djurgården’s slalom section, was in Germany but requested to be promptly updated on the match outcome, a formal request that was granted without hesitation.
Read more:
They are working for AIK to break the Scandinavian audience record.
Public success in the Allsvenskan – several clubs record record numbers.
Long lines. The excitement in the air was palpable, fueled by the knowledge that history was about to be made.
As fans shuffled forward, they could hear the distant sounds of the band warming up, invigorating the crowd’s anticipation. Once inside Råsunda Stadium, the dramatic atmosphere enveloped everyone, from the die-hard supporters to the casual onlookers. The spectacle was set against a backdrop of swirling flags, vibrant banners, and the unmistakable scent of grilled sausages wafting through the stands.
When the whistle blew, and the match kicked off, the energy was electric. The players displayed a level of skill and passion that kept fans on the edge of their seats. Every goal attempt was met with collective gasps, cheers, and the occasional hushed silence as players executed precision passes and aerial maneuvers.
The tactics employed by Djurgården and their rivals, driven by a mix of fiery determination and strategic caution, were intensely scrutinized by the throngs of spectators. DJurgården fans, adorned in their blue and yellow, clapped and chanted, their unwavering belief in their team’s ability to clinch the title fueling them through the tense moments.
As the match reached its fever pitch, the draw against IFK Göteborg solidified Djurgården’s championship win, and jubilation erupted across the stadium. Fans jumped from their seats, howling in delight. Strangers embraced, and tears of joy flowed freely among older fans who had witnessed years of struggle finally culminate in triumph.
Outside the stadium afterward, the joyous din continued as fans spilled onto the streets, celebrating with fellow supporters. Murmurs of this thrilling season filled the air, with passionate debates over the pivotal plays and player performances of the day. In coffee shops and pubs across the city, people engaged in spirited conversations, their hearts warmed not just with the victory, but by the shared camaraderie that football creates.
The Allsvenskan may face a myriad of challenges through the years, but as the memories of moments like these resonate, the league serves as a cultural touchstone for Sweden—a cherished tradition that binds generations through the beautiful game. In the words of one excited fan that day, “In our hearts, the Allsvenskan will always hold the top score!”
