At the World Cup, Haaland really hit the jackpot

If you’ve seen the images of Erling Haaland stepping off the plane on his return to Norway with a stuffed raccoon holding a small bottle of spirits, you’ve only seen the final chapter of a World Cup that has been utterly chaotic. The raccoon had been purchased in a Western-themed shop in Dallas. It cost $750 and Haaland took it with him on the plane, along with a cowboy hat, boots and other souvenirs collected during his trip to the United States. When asked to explain, he said the raccoon had followed him all the way home.

Norway had just finished its World Cup campaign. It had returned to the competition after twenty-eight years, knocked Brazil out and reached the quarter-finals. The national team’s return had become a national celebration and Haaland continued to be in the global spotlight. He had scored so many goals, but the goals only tell part of the story. Haaland was already one of the most famous and talented footballers in the world. But he’d missed out on the World Cup – that moment when a footballer ceases to belong solely to those who follow the sport every week and is introduced to everyone else. In the United States, they discovered a striker whom Europeans had known about for years. But above all, they discovered everything surrounding the striker. They discovered that he is nearly two metres tall and can overpower defenders, yet uses Snapchat just like any other young man. That he wears long blond hair tied back with hair ties matching the colours of his kit. That he posts a photo with a Shrek filter, calling him his twin. That, after knocking Brazil out, he can celebrate the victory with a dry “Well well well”, without feeling the need to add anything else. The giant has been embraced. People have started discussing his hair ties, his hair, his expressions. They’ve started watching him because they’d encountered Haaland on social media, not necessarily during a match. They’ve come to know him. What’s more, this happened just as he decided to go by a longer name. On his Norway shirt, it wasn’t just ‘Haaland’ – as it is on his Manchester City shirt – but ‘Braut Haaland’. Braut is his mother’s surname, Gry Marita Braut. Haaland chose to wear it on his back alongside his father’s surname, that of former footballer Alf-Inge Haaland, reclaiming the full form of his name and highlighting his maternal family as well. Whilst millions of people were discovering him, he decided to reveal his full identity.

His greatness didn’t require any particular footballing background. Seven goals are still seven goals. You can see the pace, and the power too. Haaland is one of those players who can be introduced through statistics, highlights and his physique. For an American audience accustomed to measuring everything — points, yards, home runs, height, speed — he was the ideal fit. But being exceptionally talented isn’t enough: Haaland became the most viral figure precisely because he didn’t seem intent on crafting a perfect celebrity image. On the contrary, his persona stems precisely from the very things that, in theory, should ruin him. From his funny faces. From the filters. From his ever-changing ponytail. From the coloured hair ties. From the enormous bags. From the way he switches from a fierce expression after a goal to the look of someone who hasn’t quite understood why he’s being photographed. Haaland is a global star who behaves online just like many young people of his generation. He doesn’t draw too sharp a line between official communications and silly antics, between brand-building and photos sent to friends. The affection has grown this way, through a constant back-and-forth. Americans turned Haaland into memes; Haaland responded to the memes. Fans mimicked the Norwegian national team’s Viking rowing celebration; he invited everyone to Google their own name to see the animation dedicated to the celebration.

All sorts of things have been happening around him. Tom Holland – or rather Spider-Man, one of the world’s most famous actors – said he’d messaged him to invite him to dinner but received no reply. Haaland hadn’t recognised him and had to point out that he doesn’t reply to strangers. With the disillusionment of someone who stares at their phone without lifting a finger because they think it might just be another telemarketing call. What a let-down. He might, however, want to meet 563 Peruvians. Because there, in Peru, Haaland has made it into the registry office: the Peruvian National Registry has counted 468 people named Haaland, a further 91 registered as Erling Haaland and four with the full name, Erling Braut Haaland. One can imagine the conversations between parents during the weeks of the World Cup. Norway are playing, Haaland is scoring again. The name is uttered once as a joke, then a second time with greater conviction: “When he’s grown up, we’ll tell him all about the 2026 World Cup.” That World Cup which allowed a centre-forward born in Leeds, raised in Norway and who made his name in Manchester to end up on Peruvian birth certificates and on everyone’s lips across half the world. A hero at home, loved elsewhere too. He stepped off the plane with a raccoon under his arm, having left the United States. Whilst the United States is still talking about him.