Sports promotion | Offensive in Icelandic

Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir zips up her jacket all the way. The clouds hang low over Reykjavik, it's drizzling, the wind stirs the treetops, but the captain of the Icelandic national football team doesn't let it spoil her good mood. Viggósdóttir strides across the artificial turf, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets. She gives advice, claps her hands, cheers people up. Almost always with a smile.

On a Saturday morning in June, around 250 girls are taking part in a training camp in a suburb of the Icelandic capital. They are passing the ball, dribbling, and practicing shooting. Dozens of parents are standing on the sidelines, chatting and taking photos. Many of the girls aren't wearing Messi or Ronaldo's jerseys, but a red number 4 shirt. It's the jersey Glódís Viggósdóttir wears for her club, FC Bayern Munich.

"I'm very happy that I grew up in Iceland," says Viggósdóttir, the day's celebrity guest. "Here, girls get the same opportunities in sports as boys right from the start. You only realize that this isn't a given after spending a longer period abroad."

Iceland has a population of only around 400,000. Nevertheless, the women's national football team has qualified for the European Championship for the fifth consecutive year. The tournament begins this Wednesday in Switzerland. "Our success is no coincidence," says Viggósdóttir, who has received several awards in Iceland, including "Sports Personality of the Year." "We are the result of long-term, structural support."

This applies to football, and it applies to other areas. The World Economic Forum publishes the Global Gender Gap Report annually, which assesses the differences between the sexes in business, politics, education, and health. Iceland has held first place in this ranking for 15 years. The country has a female president and prime minister, a foreign minister, and a female bishop. The Football Association has also been led by a female president and general secretary. In Germany, England, or France, this was previously almost unimaginable.

How did Iceland do it? The answer to this question can be found at the national football association, which has its headquarters in Laugardalsvöllur, the country's most important stadium. Behind the stands, snow-capped mountain peaks rise in the distance. A park, training pitches, and swimming pool are lined up around the stadium. "The harsh climate demands a lot from us, but that doesn't mean we stay on the couch," says Jörundur Sveinsson, Technical Director of the Icelandic Football Association. "Sport has shaped our everyday lives since childhood. And we don't want to leave anything to chance."

"We have teams at our club that are among the most successful in the country. But we also have teams that haven't won a game in five months."

Ulfar Hinriksson trainer at Breidablik Kópavogu r

In Germany, students usually have sports twice a week. And classes are often canceled due to a lack of teachers or dilapidated gyms. In Iceland, there are three sports classes per week, including regular swimming. "We at the football association would like to see daily sports classes," says Jörundur Sveinsson, who was a former player himself and also coached the women's national team at the beginning of the millennium.

Jörundur Sveinsson has his own office at the association's headquarters, but he prefers to do his paperwork in the open-plan office, where communication with the team is faster. Sveinsson studied teaching and worked for a time in a school, like hundreds of other coaches working for the association or clubs in Iceland. "It's rare for parents or neighbors to spontaneously take over a youth team," says Sveinsson. "We place great importance on the qualifications and training of our coaches."

Based on this, he considers it natural that all departments within the football association are geared towards both genders, whether physiotherapy, career development, or marketing. And the bonuses for national team players are just as high as those of their male colleagues. "Of course, we want to create an environment in which our teams are successful," he says. "But our responsibility goes far beyond that." Sveinsson mentions, for example, the many soccer fields that have been built in schoolyards with the support of the football association.

Icelandic associations and clubs pursue a concept that is arguably unique in Europe. Their focus is not on "promoting elites," but on "sports for all." Vidar Halldorsson from the University of Iceland explains the background. The sports sociologist commutes between his home and campus every day on his racing bike. Before the interview for this article, he quickly eats a plate of pasta. Then he says: "There is no talent scouting in Iceland. All clubs are non-profit. Sport is considered an important part of holistic education."

Vidar Halldorsson has trained hundreds of coaches, teachers, and club employees at the university. He repeatedly refers to his research, which dates back to the 1990s. It shows that when children and young people participate in sports, they benefit in the long term. They are more likely to perform better in school overall, become more self-confident and develop empathy, and smoke and drink less alcohol later in life. "But this sports model needs to be organized for the long term and requires good specialists," says Halldorsson.

But what does it look like in practice? The grounds of Breidablik , one of Iceland's most successful clubs, are located on the outskirts of Reykjavik, along the highway, and are easily recognizable from afar. The name Breidablik comes from Norse mythology and represents the home of Balder, considered the most peaceful of the Germanic gods.

A curved roof spans the heated artificial turf, which is the size of a conventional soccer field. A dozen such arenas have been built over the past 20 years, financed by local authorities. This allows sports to continue during the long, dark winters.

In the afternoon, things get loud in Breidablik's arena. Buses bring children and young people from seven surrounding schools to the club. At the same time, around 100 players are practicing on the artificial turf, supervised by ten coaches. "Our doors are open to everyone," says Ulfar Hinriksson, a long-time coach, official, and teacher by training. "We have teams at our club that are among the most successful in the country. But we also have teams that haven't won a game in five months."

Ulfar Hinriksson is one of the key figures at Breidablik. On the upper floor of the football arena, he opens his laptop in the conference room and explains the close network between the club, schools, and university. "Our membership fees are relatively low. But if parents can't afford the fee, we find a solution. Usually, the children don't even know about it."

Breidablik has around 1,700 members in its youth team, 600 of whom are girls. The players are expected to stay together in their age groups for as long as possible. However, if they prove to be particularly talented, they advance to the next age group early. They remain with the club and school, in their home environment, and do not, as is common in many other countries, move to a distant boarding school where football takes precedence. Six players in the current Icelandic national team squad have played for Breidablik at some point.

So everything's perfect? ​​Ulfar Hinriksson smiles cautiously and shakes his head. In 2016, the Icelandic men's national team participated in the European Championship for the first time, and in 2018, in the World Cup for the first time. Tens of millions of euros flowed into Icelandic football through signing bonuses, advertising revenue, and TV income. "Everyone wanted a piece of the money," says Hinriksson. "The national players, the association, the clubs. In my opinion, that was bad for our overall structure. The players, in particular, now had more money and could demand higher bonuses."

But the men's success in Iceland also attracted thousands of girls to clubs. Some of them could soon play for the national team, but the vast majority view sports as a healthy leisure activity. But that's not all: For his research, sports sociologist Vidar Halldorsson surveyed fans who had followed the Icelandic national teams at major tournaments. One finding: Only 40 percent of respondents were actually interested in the rules and history of football. They were more interested in the fun of traveling, togetherness, and identification.

In such an environment, even female athletes are aware of their role as role models. In 2023, Icelandic footballer Sara Björk Gunnarsdóttir made headlines. In an article, she wrote that she felt unsupported by her club, Olympique Lyon, during her pregnancy. She sued for back pay for unpaid wages – and won.

Some Icelandic media outlets count Gunnarsdóttir's lawsuit as one of a series of important protests. Since the early 1970s, women in Iceland had repeatedly demonstrated for equal rights in labor and family law. It was therefore logical that Vigdís Finnbogadóttir was elected president of Iceland in 1980, the world's first female head of state.

Back at the girls' soccer camp in Reykjavik, where the participants are standing in a long line for an autograph session. At the front of the line at a table is national team player Karólína Lea Vilhjálmsdóttir, who plays for Bayer Leverkusen. She's signing, chatting, and posing for selfies.

"We love football, but no one has to focus solely on football," says Vilhjálmsdóttir. In many other countries, female athletes struggle to return to peak performance after giving birth, partly due to a lack of support from the associations. And in Iceland? "At some national team camps, there are five or six mothers among the players," says Vilhjálmsdóttir calmly. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.