Just an old story

[gerbie]

MY ENGLAND-NETHERLANDS

As a small child you count the days of important days to come. "6 nights until my championshipmatch" or "3 more days and we are going to watch Ajax."

My England-Netherlands has beaten all those countdowns. It started about half a year before the match itself, the moment I started working for an English touroperator. As soon as my guests found out I was Dutch, we were discussing football. Obviously the Euro '96 tournament was the big subject.

I enjoyed every single discussion; "England will trash us then, and who's gonna score ? Certainly not Shearer as he hasn't scored for ages in the England shirt."
"What do you mean English team are the best ? Could you tell me how they played last week in the European cups ? Sorry, I didn't know they were all out already...."
"If you hadn't organized the tournament you wouldn't even be able to qualify. Talking about qualifying: who kicked you out the last world cup qualifiers ?"
"The best two players in your league, Cantona and Gullit, are not even good enough to play for their countries !"

I think I have won all discussions on points. Not a real achievement, as I know more about British football, than most Brits know about any foreign.

And though I was sure my country would not win the tournament, I could not possibly imagine losing to England. Using a lot of (former) Ajax players (world champions !) and knowing that the last defeat against any British team was way back in '82, I was sure we would at least win the group. Sure, England has some good players like Gazza and Macca, but our strikers always outclass the defence.

From june on I worked in Italy where I watched some matches with my english collegues in a pizzeria. Every match a lot of Dutch tourists (nicknamed cloggies) would show up. Whereas Italy, Denmark, Germany and France, like the English just had some real footy-fans watching their games, somehow the Dutch national team matches appeared to be a national celebration that goes way beyond football. People who couldn't possibly name 5 players of the team, who don'y know any other Dutch team apart from Ajax and for who it would be impossible to explain the off-side rule (tricky one though, even for hardcore fans and linesmen) dress up as idiots with orange caps, shirts, wigs, hats, shorts, socks and clogs. They gather in bars, backgardens, local squares or as on holiday, anywhere they don't have to watch the match on their own.

I was stunned by the amount of orange I saw in Italy. I would love to see their checklist before going on holiday. Imagine:
"Let's doublecheck once more, just to be sure before we go darlin':
- Passports
- Insurance papers
- Orange wig
- Foreign currency
- First aid box
- Dutch flag
- Swimming costumes
- Underwear
- (orange) face paint
- Road maps
- Warm clothes
- Orange shirts
- Suncreme
- Orange shorts
- Rain clothing
- Orange hats and caps"

"Yes, everything is in the car honey."

Finally the big day is there. The pizzeria fills as the first orange fans show up hours before the match, claiming the best seats (no German towels there luckily) I decide to watch in a small room upstairs, together with about 25 Dutch tourists, some of my Dutch and one English collegue. Being on his own, the latter is not at ease, though tries to make up for it in volume. The national anthems are played with Psycho and Skipper doing an effort to sing louder than the crowd at Wembley. They nearly manage.

The start of the match isn't bad, though the first exciting moment is a woman on the front row falling through her chair. As she gets a replacement, she is just in time to see a penalty being awarded to England. For no obvious reason according to the majority in here, though it doesn't stop Shearer from scoring.

I am not really bothered. Bergkamp has several opportunities and only one has to go in, with a gentlemen's agreement (a draw) still as the most logical result to get both teams to the next round. At halftime there's a lot of moaning about Bergkamp, but everybody is still confident about the result. My English mate found some red-crossed faces downstairs and disapppears.

The second half has started but before we (and most Dutch players) realise it has, the English have added 3 more, leaving players, a coach, a few hundred around here and a whole country 1000 km north from here, stunned. As we find out that Scotland is leading as well, the disappointment is huge.

I had heard some cheers at the second Shearer goal. After those cheers two Englishmen, who had just entered the room actually apologized for being excited. As they were the only tourists I knew and I was the only one in there they knew we started talking. We couldn't find a logical explanation for this massacre. The only thing we've concluded was that the English did play with all they had for their country, not for money or a new and better contract.

As the substitutions came on I feared Fowler more than I had confidence in Kluivert. He proved me wrong, scored, and made us calculate again. With 4-1 down and the Jocks still at 1-0, we would make it into the next round. The team had concluded the same and started to defend the 4-1 (!!). They sneaked into the second round, as they had done to qualify for the tournament in the first place (Anfield against Ireland). "I've never seen a crowd so happy after losing 4-1" my English friend concluded after the match. I had to admit that the truth can be very hard.

As I had to admit as well that all my predictions were proven wrong. Even though I wasn't as bothered as everybody around me. I had just seen a good team beat a team that played crap. Logical result therefore. The next day a six foot four bloke stopped me and asked me seriously not to show up for the quarter final against France. It was only one step from threathening. He was quite sure that me being on friendly terms with Brits (and also working for a British company !) had somehow influenced the result of the match