Welcome to Svenland

This is where Eriksson grew up. And I have come in search of clues to his success. How did Torsby mould the young Sven, or "Svennis" as he has been nicknamed since childhood? And how did his upbringing in this picturesque region shape his management methods? There is only one person working at the tiny airport when my plane touches down at sunset, the orange sky reflecting the glassy surface of the surrounding lakes. The pilot goes to call me a cab but the lone airport worker, Sture, is kind enough to give me a lift into town. On the way he tells me he used to play in Torsby FC's junior team alongside Sven.

We know he was not an exceptional footballer, although, at 16, he was the youngest member of the team in its solitary glory year (1966, as it happens) when they won the Fourth Division title.

"He was the playmaker," recalls Sture. "He was not a great player, just normal. But you could see the mentality he has now, even as a young man. He was very calm." Calmness is a quality that comes easily in Torsby, if only because there is little to get excited about in a place where it takes about five minutes to explore the town centre.

The next morning - crisp, clear and sunny - I track down Sven's old football coach, who has a photo of that team of '66 on his livingroom wall, with Sven so young he looks like the ball boy. In the team's clubhouse, a signed photo of the England team now takes pride of place in the trophy cabinet. "He was always calm," says Sven-?ke Olsson, 72. "He was the strategist of the team. And he always found it easy to communicate. If he was pissed off with people, he always waited until the next day to tell them." Olsson recalls that when Sven first came into the team - helped by his dad's job looking after the team kit - a lot of the older players were not happy at having a 16-year-old alongside them. "But when we won the next match 6-2 they were quiet."

Next stop is the town hall, where I ask the chief executive, Torkel Birgersson, to put his finger on Sven's secret. "Swedes in general are rather good at organising," he says. "Most people here are well organised. We are calm and we are analytical. We like to reflect on things. Svennis is the best example of that." Everything is organised in Torsby, where unemployment is at six per cent, and falling. The biggest employers are the council, the hospital and the saw mill.

The school, where Sven first kicked a ball, has no teacher shortages, no overcrowded classrooms. Grades are good.

The hospital has no waiting lists, no shortage of nurses or doctors, says Birgersson, although local journalist Christer Bergqvist says most nurses prefer to work in neighbouring Norway for twice the salary.

The police station, when it is open, has little crime to tackle, with 15 officers in charge of an area stretching to the Norwegian border more than 100 miles away.

Deputy police chief Ewa Ohlsson, with a stolen car radio on her desk, says the last murder was five or six years ago. "In fact, the murderer is about to be released from jail for Christmas," she says.

Crime is limited mainly to car theft, burglaries and drunk-driving - the biggest problem in a town with the highest car ownership in the country. "This is a quiet place," she says. "People are comfortable living here.

"Everything is well organised, calm and pretty efficient. And everyone knows everyone, so it is not easy to get away with a crime."

Sven is admired not just because he is a Swede making an international name for himself, but because he has stayed true to his roots.

"He is how Swedes like to see Swedes," says Bergqvist, who went to school with Sven and still plays tennis with him on his bi-annual trips home to visit his parents, who live in a big house behind Torsby's tourist-information centre.

"When he comes home he is not more than anyone else. He still walks around the town and talks to his old friends." He also donated generously towards the town's new swimming pool and sponsors a youth football tournament called the Svennis Cup.

Now there is talk of honouring Sven's achievements with a theme park - Svennisland. It's the brainchild of another local journalist, Gunvor Nyman, who envisages a museum housing his first pair of football boots, a restaurant serving his favourite boyhood meals and trips around town in vintage Volvos.

It seems a little ambitious, considering the remoteness of the town, but Birgersson acknowledges that something should be done. "We are very proud of Svennis, and he has put Torsby on the map," he says.

"We are discussing how to honour him and use his success to benefit Torsby.

"One idea is to name a street after him. But we have to talk to him about it first." The Svennisland proposal is "not a bad idea," he says with typical Swedish caution. "We want to have more tourists, especially from England. We in Torsby feel the England team to be our team."