THERE WERE BIG MEN CRYING ALL AROUND US
Three months on from Christian Eriksen’s harrowing collapse, Sportsmail returns to find a Copenhagen full of love and respect
IN THE moments after Christian Eriksen’s collapse during Denmark’s opening game of Euro 2020, a father paced around Sankt Jakobs Plads, a quaint square from where, beyond a church and some old floodlights, you can see Parken Stadium.
Peter Mondrup had left his family apartment above the square and was now pondering the imponderable.
‘I was mentally preparing how to tell my kids that Christian had died,’ says the 45-year-old, whose youngest boy is nine.
‘How can I inform them what has happened to their hero? How can I tell them what they witnessed had the worst possible outcome?’
Half an hour earlier, he and his friend Lars Janus and their families were in front of the television when Eriksen, just a few hundred yards away, had stumbled and fallen to the turf. He had suffered a cardiac arrest.
‘At first we smiled, it looked like he had tripped,’ says Peter. ‘Then you realised something was seriously wrong, it was in his eyes.
‘Right away I sent my youngest children out of the room, I wanted to protect them. The older children stayed. We all had tears in our eyes. You can’t underestimate how popular Christian is here.’
Unlike in the UK, Danish television cut away from the images of Eriksen being treated immediately after the horror of the initial chest compressions. Peter and Lars came down to the square in search of news.
Sportsmail met with them this week in the PS Bar & Grill. From its beer garden, earlier on that sunny Saturday afternoon of June 12, a hum of happiness could be heard in Peter’s apartment.
So what scene did the friends find shortly after 7pm?
‘Silence,’ says Lars. ‘The only thing you could hear was the big television in here. It was surreal. “Eriksen” shirts everywhere. So many people, so little noise.’
For Peter, the image will never leave him.
‘Big men, they were crying all around us. To have seen the heart massage, argh… it was not good, it was devastating. But then there was no update, nothing.’
‘Honestly?’ says Lars. ‘We thought he was dead. If they knew he was alive when he left the stadium, they should have told us on TV, it was wrong that they didn’t.’ Peter disagrees. ‘But they did not want to give false hope. When he was brought away with the white sheets around him, I said to Lars, “He is not awake. If he is alive, why not show him?”. My hopes were really low. The longer time went on with no good news, it was getting worse and worse.’
Just yards away, serving at the outdoor bar, was Nathan Rowe — originally from Brighton.
‘It went from a noisy crowd to hearing a penny drop,’ recalls the 31-year-old. ‘Just like that, complete silence. Everyone was grabbing their mouths.
‘I was just standing here, no one bought any drinks. Some people walked away, they couldn’t watch. Everyone was checking their phones. There was confusion.’
A short distance from here, fans in the bars around Trianglen St Metro would have witnessed the sobering sight of the ambulance taking Eriksen to Rigshospitalet. Finally, an hour after his collapse, a message was displayed by the national broadcaster — Eriksen (below) was alive and stable. ‘I remember the sound, a massive intake of air as the news appeared and then cheering and clapping,’ says Nathan. ‘It was like we’d been in a horror movie before that. I was suddenly busy again, there was just sheer relief.’ It was then announced that the game against Finland would continue. Denmark, a team and a nation in a state of shock, lost 1-0. ‘There was a lot of anger at being made to play,’ says Nathan. ‘We were hosting 250 people who went to the game. Only around 30 came back afterwards. That night was eerie.’ But from the horror came unity, in Denmark and beyond. ‘We felt the whole world come together,’ says Peter. ‘When you see something like that, everyone is the same, everything else disappears.’
Denmark made it to the semifinals only to lose to England at Wembley. They returned to Parken for the first time on Wednesday when they beat Scotland 2-0 in front of a joyous, sell-out crowd.
They have got it right here. The beer flows but there is no menace. There are women, children, old and young, a truly happy vibe in a place that, for a short while in June, threatened to be the scene of eternal sorrow.
They have an unofficial code of conduct in Denmark called Jante Law, which encourages humility and, in turn, collectivism.
‘Eriksen has that,’ says Lars. ‘It is why he is so loved. But they all do — Simon Kjaer, Kasper Schmeichel, these guys are national heroes.
‘What happened to Christian reinforced the support for the team. We saw how they protected him. There is special respect for those players.
‘I was there for the Russia game (as Denmark won 4-1 to qualify for the last 16). It was the most emotional match I ever saw.
‘There is new love for the team, a more powerful support. Those nights at Parken right now… they are magical.’