Louise
Cazilhac Berg

They used to call me “The Iceberg.” Because on the pitch I was unshakable—ice cold, steady, and impossible to get past. I don’t just defend; I anchor. My presence calms the players around me, and my reading of the game lets me shut things down before they become problems. Pressure melts a lot of players—I stay frozen in the best way. But the part people don’t always see is what happens off the pitch. In the locker room, I’m the opposite of cold. I’m a friend, someone who brings energy and warmth when the team needs it. I make it a priority to know my teammates not just as players, but as people—what motivates them, what lifts them, what makes them feel like they belong. That balance—the Iceberg on the field, the heartbeat off it—is my superpower. I defend with calm, I lead with presence, and I connect with genuine care.

The player who represents me best is Wendie Renard. There’s something almost legendary about the way she steps onto the pitch — calm, tall, unshaken, like she already knows the story of the match before it begins. She doesn’t rush, she doesn’t panic; she reads the field with the kind of clarity that feels rare in high-pressure moments. One look at her and you understand why her teammates trust her: she brings stability without ever needing to raise her voice. What inspires me most is the quiet strength she carries. Her leadership isn’t loud or dramatic; it’s built from consistency, presence, and a kind of respect you earn only through years of doing things the right way. Renard shows that a defender can be both an anchor and a calm force — and that’s a style of leadership I connect with deeply.

One of the moments I will never forget was the regional championship final during my senior year in college. It was the culmination of four years with a team where we had grown into a real family—players from different countries who had shared the same commitment, resilience, and hard work. During the final we were losing 4–0, but somehow we fought our way back to 4–4. The belief and energy on the field in that moment is something I will carry with me forever. In the end, we lost 5–4 with a goal in the final seconds, which was devastating at the time. But looking back, that game represents everything football has given me: the friendships, the growth, and the pride of being part of something bigger than yourself.

Recently, I stepped away from my corporate role in Madrid to focus on building my own company, Blue Bridge Oasis. The project brings together local tourism, cultural exchange, and movement practices like yoga, creating group travel experiences that connect people with places, culture, and well-being. I divide my time between Sweden and Spain while developing the concept and organizing experiences. Alongside this, I remain involved in women’s football and initiatives that aim to move the game forward. Looking ahead, I’m also exploring the possibility of starting a PhD in 2026, focusing on the intersection of sport, society, and international collaboration.

For me, fun in a football match is when the team clicks — when the movements, the energy, and the trust all sync up. It’s not about fancy moments; it’s about reading the game right, winning the important duels, and feeling the whole team rise together. That’s the kind of football that feels good. Success is simple: it’s walking off the pitch knowing we stayed connected, stayed disciplined, and fought for each other from first whistle to last. And let’s be real — I want a win.