Denmark

The Story

Denmark will not be at the World Cup this summer. They were, until extra time on March 31 in Prague, when the Czech Republic equalized a late Joachim Andersen header to send the playoff to penalties. Denmark missed. Czechia took the slot. Brian Riemer's team flew home to a country that has been here before — the 1992 Euro miracle remains one of the great underdog stories in any sport, but Denmark has only been to six World Cups in 60 years, and the heartbreak of qualifying-round exits is a familiar Scandinavian sweater.

This is the country that produced Michael Laudrup (the most graceful player most Americans have never watched), Peter Schmeichel (Manchester United's loudest goalkeeper ever), and now Christian Eriksen — whose cardiac arrest on a field in Copenhagen at Euro 2020 was the most frightening live sports moment most of us will ever watch, and whose recovery and continued top-flight career is one of soccer's quiet ongoing miracles. He'll likely retire from international football now without one more World Cup. That's the cost.

If you're looking for a team to root for in their absence, Denmark fans tend to pick the country that beat them or, more romantically, an underdog. They will be quietly cheering Norway because of the Scandinavian solidarity, and quietly cheering against England because, well, watch a Premier League match — they are ready to be cheered against. Light a candle for Eriksen. Pour a Carlsberg. Move on.

3 Players to Know

Christian Eriksen

The 33-year-old Manchester United midfielder whose cardiac arrest on the field at Euro 2020 became one of the most traumatic moments in modern soccer. He was clinically dead for five minutes. He has an implanted defibrillator in his chest and has played top-flight football for five years since, scoring goals for Brentford and United and starting Denmark's qualifying campaign as captain. His continued presence in this team is a quiet, ongoing miracle. The fact that this miracle ends with a missed World Cup feels deeply unfair.

Rasmus Højlund

The 23-year-old Manchester United forward who was supposed to be the next great Danish striker and has spent the last two seasons carrying the burden of that label through some genuinely difficult Premier League stretches. Tall, quick, raw. Scored in the playoff win over North Macedonia. Did not score in the loss to Czechia. He's young enough that 2030 is wide open.

Pierre-Emile Højbjerg

The 30-year-old Marseille midfielder who has been the engine of Denmark for a decade — the relentless ball-winner, the captain in everything but armband. Made his debut for Bayern Munich at 17, was once the most-hyped Danish prospect since Michael Laudrup. The career has been good rather than great. The international story closes here without a final World Cup, which is the kind of thing that keeps players up at night.

The Food

Signature Dish

Smørrebrød is the answer most Danes give first — open-faced rye bread, layered with cured fish or roast pork or pickled herring, served at lunch with cold beer and a snaps. The new Nordic movement (Noma, Geranium, etc.) reframed Danish food as foraged moss and fermented carrot, but the real cuisine is humbler: frikadeller (pork-veal meatballs with brown sauce and potatoes), stegt flæsk (crispy pork belly with parsley sauce), wienerbrød ('Vienna bread,' which Americans call a 'Danish'), and risalamande (rice pudding with cherry sauce, eaten exclusively at Christmas, with a hidden almond and a prize).

Where to Eat in DFW

Real talk: Danish food barely exists in DFW. Three Danes Inn & Bakery in Fort Worth's Near Southside is the closest thing — a bed and bakery run by the Marks family, where Erna Marks moved from Denmark to Texas in the 1960s and her daughter Darlene still bakes from the family recipes. Hindbærsnitter (raspberry butter cookies), kanel snegle (cinnamon rolls the size of your hand), marzipan bars. Open Saturdays. For a sit-down meal, Royal Danish Bakery in Addison does pastries, breakfast, and open-faced sandwiches that are genuinely Danish in spirit.

Fan Culture

Roligans is the Danish supporter culture — a portmanteau of "rolig" (calm) and "hooligans" — and they are exactly that. Red-and-white face paint, Viking helmets that lean costume rather than menacing, a relentless cheerful chant of "Vi er røde, vi er hvide" ("we are red, we are white"). Danish away support is famously well-behaved, well-organized, and well-lubricated on Carlsberg and Tuborg. The crowd at Parken in Copenhagen sings in actual choral harmony. There is no World Cup match to gather around this summer, but if you find a Danish bar in any American city in June, the vibe will still be hyggelig — candles, beer, friends, the muted heartbreak of a country that has missed out but isn't going to make a scene about it.