This reminds me of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine. Sleeves rolled up, faceless, determined – and absolutely leathering the ball. Our hero unleashes his power in this massive, sweeping stadium, a vision of modernity in late 1950s Gothenburg. It feels more like the Olympic Stadium in Munich than the old Ullevi, while the floodlights peer like a periscope over the top of the stands.
The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next. Not that you’d have any idea from the cover itself: no teams spelled out, no date; no match info at all other than the name of the stadium, Ullevi.
This reminds me of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine. Sleeves rolled up, faceless, determined – and absolutely leathering the ball. Our hero unleashes his power in this massive, sweeping stadium, a vision of modernity in late 1950s Gothenburg. It feels more like the Olympic Stadium in Munich than the old Ullevi, while the floodlights peer like a periscope over the top of the stands.
The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next. Not that you’d have any idea from the cover itself: no teams spelled out, no date; no match info at all other than the name of the stadium, Ullevi.
To bring you up to speed, this is the programme from IFK Göteborg’s first round meeting with Dutch champions Sparta Rotterdam on 5 November 1959. In an odd anomaly the Swedish side, having lost the first leg 3-1, hit back with a 3-1 win of their own. With
“The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next”
no extra time or penalties to settle the tie, the two teams later reconvened in Bremen, where Sparta won the play-off with – you’ve guessed it – a 3-1 scoreline.
Anyway, this is all about the lovely three-colour printing. You have to get the shadows absolutely right for depth because you only have three colours to play with, and that’s what gives it the aesthetic. It’s not perfect – the angles aren’t quite right – but it doesn’t matter. I love the lines for speed and the fact it seems like the net is scratched on top afterwards.
And who is the player, anyway? Perhaps it’s the artist himself, Thord Lindblom, who has signed the cover – quite unusual on a football programme. Lindblom was the main cartoonist in the early days of Sweden’s Rekord magazine and also drew covers for comic books right up to the 1980s. He apparently left Rekord because it was becoming too Americanised. We like it. Stick to your principles.
This reminds me of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine. Sleeves rolled up, faceless, determined – and absolutely leathering the ball. Our hero unleashes his power in this massive, sweeping stadium, a vision of modernity in late 1950s Gothenburg. It feels more like the Olympic Stadium in Munich than the old Ullevi, while the floodlights peer like a periscope over the top of the stands.
The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next. Not that you’d have any idea from the cover itself: no teams spelled out, no date; no match info at all other than the name of the stadium, Ullevi.
This reminds me of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine. Sleeves rolled up, faceless, determined – and absolutely leathering the ball. Our hero unleashes his power in this massive, sweeping stadium, a vision of modernity in late 1950s Gothenburg. It feels more like the Olympic Stadium in Munich than the old Ullevi, while the floodlights peer like a periscope over the top of the stands.
The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next. Not that you’d have any idea from the cover itself: no teams spelled out, no date; no match info at all other than the name of the stadium, Ullevi.
This reminds me of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine. Sleeves rolled up, faceless, determined – and absolutely leathering the ball. Our hero unleashes his power in this massive, sweeping stadium, a vision of modernity in late 1950s Gothenburg. It feels more like the Olympic Stadium in Munich than the old Ullevi, while the floodlights peer like a periscope over the top of the stands.
The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next. Not that you’d have any idea from the cover itself: no teams spelled out, no date; no match info at all other than the name of the stadium, Ullevi.
To bring you up to speed, this is the programme from IFK Göteborg’s first round meeting with Dutch champions Sparta Rotterdam on 5 November 1959. In an odd anomaly the Swedish side, having lost the first leg 3-1, hit back with a 3-1 win of their own. With
“The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next”
no extra time or penalties to settle the tie, the two teams later reconvened in Bremen, where Sparta won the play-off with – you’ve guessed it – a 3-1 scoreline.
Anyway, this is all about the lovely three-colour printing. You have to get the shadows absolutely right for depth because you only have three colours to play with, and that’s what gives it the aesthetic. It’s not perfect – the angles aren’t quite right – but it doesn’t matter. I love the lines for speed and the fact it seems like the net is scratched on top afterwards.
And who is the player, anyway? Perhaps it’s the artist himself, Thord Lindblom, who has signed the cover – quite unusual on a football programme. Lindblom was the main cartoonist in the early days of Sweden’s Rekord magazine and also drew covers for comic books right up to the 1980s. He apparently left Rekord because it was becoming too Americanised. We like it. Stick to your principles.
This reminds me of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine. Sleeves rolled up, faceless, determined – and absolutely leathering the ball. Our hero unleashes his power in this massive, sweeping stadium, a vision of modernity in late 1950s Gothenburg. It feels more like the Olympic Stadium in Munich than the old Ullevi, while the floodlights peer like a periscope over the top of the stands.
The illustration is full of drama – a tale of derring-do that makes you want to know what happens next. Not that you’d have any idea from the cover itself: no teams spelled out, no date; no match info at all other than the name of the stadium, Ullevi.
