Imagine 150 firefighters from across Sweden gathering in Sundsvall to compete for the Swedish Firefighter Floorball Championship. Pure floorball at its finest.
I was fortunate enough to represent Greater Stockholm Fire & Rescue Services, but my relationship with floorball began long before that tournament.
Over the years, floorball has changed meaning for me. There was a time when winning meant everything. Today, simply getting out on the court means the most.
Being able to play a game of floorball during an afternoon shift does so much—not only for me personally, but for the entire crew. It brings out the best (and sometimes the worst) in people. It creates tears of joy, tears of frustration, and above all, it strengthens the bond within the team.
Working out in the gym or improving our fitness is essential if we're going to perform our jobs as firefighters. But doing something together is even more important.
Playing floorball—or simply "bandy," as we call it at the fire station—helps us truly get to know one another.
It's on the floorball court that you see people's real personalities. That's where trust is built—the same trust we rely on when the alarm sounds and our lives depend on each other in high-pressure situations.
Learning to Lose
For most of my life, floorball felt like life or death.
I've played since I was five years old, progressing from casual games with my dad to a floorball academy and eventually competing in Sweden's second-highest league, Allsvenskan.
After many defeats, I would become consumed by anger—especially when I felt I hadn't played well enough and had let my teammates down.
I still remember one particular drive home after a match. My father stopped the car about four kilometers from home because he thought I was being too angry and unpleasant.
He simply said:
"Get out and run home. We'll talk about the game once you've calmed down."
Thankfully, I'm no longer like that.
Age has certainly helped, but more than anything, becoming a firefighter—and learning from the experienced colleagues around me—has changed my perspective.
I'll be honest: it took me almost three years to learn how to play "fire station floorball."
More than once I wanted to snap my stick in frustration because people weren't playing "proper" floorball.
It probably took an entire year before I finally walked out of the gym with a victory.
Those experiences teach you something.
Learning how to deal with losing is an important skill—whether you've lost a floorball game or whether you've lost someone's life during an emergency call.
In both situations, you may have done absolutely everything possible to succeed.
Sometimes, it still isn't enough.
That's when you need your teammates—or your colleagues—to help carry the burden.
More Than a Game
That's what I love most about being a firefighter.
We shape one another.
We do everything together.
Every shared experience teaches us something about each other.
They've become my second family.
Many people laugh when firefighters and floorball are mentioned in the same sentence.
Some think of comedy sketches.
Others assume we get injured all the time or joke about being lucky enough to play sports during working hours.
But I'm completely serious.
For me, floorball has never been just a stick and a ball.
It creates a sense of unity that's incredibly difficult to build in any other way.
And I absolutely love it.
Firefighter Floorball Championship
Of course, I haven't lost my competitive spirit.
It's still there.
Winning is still one of the greatest feelings in the world.
The difference today is that after about an hour, I let it go.
Life moves on.
Nowadays, it's harder to travel to tournaments. Families, work, and everyday life make it difficult to find the time.
But about a month ago, our team from Greater Stockholm made the trip to Sundsvall to compete in the annual Swedish Firefighter Floorball Championship—the highlight of the year.
Ten teams from across Sweden participated in a full day of competition.
What makes tournaments like this so special is the incredible variety of backgrounds.
Some players have represented Sweden internationally or played at the highest domestic level.
Others proudly consider their greatest achievement beating the veterans during a game of "bandy" back at the station.
Champions After a Dramatic Finish
I'll skip the suspense.
We brought the gold medal back to Stockholm.
After an intense final against Jönköping, the championship was decided by sudden-death penalty shots.
Ironically, I hit the post with my first attempt.
But despite that miss, my teammates still trusted me with another opportunity—and this time I scored the winning penalty.
We actually went through the entire tournament undefeated.
Victories over Jönköping, Södertörn, Motala, and Nerike secured first place in our group before we defeated DalaMitt in the semifinal.
The final once again pitted us against Jönköping.
I also want to give enormous credit to our opponents.
In their very first game, they lost their goalkeeper to a broken arm, requiring a trip to the hospital.
Later, one of their best defenders—a player with experience from the Swedish Super League (SSL) and the national team—tore both hamstrings and ended up stepping into goal for the rest of the tournament.
Despite all of that, they still reached the final.
Absolutely incredible.
One Firefighter Community
A day like this always ends with a banquet.
Dinner, conversations, and sharing experiences with firefighters from departments all over Sweden.
These gatherings strengthen relationships—not only within our own organizations, but throughout the entire Swedish firefighting community.
Sharing knowledge and experiences ultimately helps us serve the public more safely and more effectively whenever the next emergency call comes.
Finally, I'd like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to share what floorball has meant to me throughout my life.
And perhaps even more importantly, what it means to us firefighters—and to many former players who still love the game.
Winning matters.
But community matters even more.
Robert Danling
Firefighter and floorball player, Solna, Sweden
