New Zealanders have long been fervent All Blacks supporters. My Darling says nothing is noisier or more partisan than JW and I watching an All Blacks match.
Yeah, right. Except the Orange brigade, that is. The World Cup build-up in the Netherlands was intense and orchestrated, as Nederlanders got themselves ready for the event. All is Orange here.
Today, at our stamcafe the Coach House Inn, I watched Nederland play Brazil in the quarter-finals round. Saturday is a normal shopping day, but most small businesses closed before the game started. Everyone wore something orange. I never thought I would ever see a little orange number, but now I have – some women even wore little orange dresses. After all, sport is a serious matter, especially when the national team is playing.
Brazil was expected to win by all the world except the Dutch, and even some of those admitted to pessimism. Hans the proprietor had the big screen going in the bar, and set up a TV screen in his terrace. I sat there with a large extended family and watched the action. They all had orange banners, balloons that said “Hup Holland Hup”, and orange horns to blow or play. Hans and his part-time assistant served food and beer throughout the game. The family was even more entertaining than the game, abusing the referee’s decisions when they went against Holland, gasping with horror when Brazil scored or even looked like scoring, cheering when a Brazilian was red-carded, roaring and blowing horns when Holland scored, moaning and swearing when Holland missed opportunities. And at the end, screaming and hugging and kissing everything that moved. Two-one to Holland – Brazil was knocked out of the competition.
Immediately, we heard the dreaded three-note sound of an ambulance siren. Pity, I thought, when there is so much celebration. But not to worry, there was no emergency. As the ambulance came into sight, the driver had his hand on the horn, and his fellow paramedics were leaning out the windows, waving and cheering.
Everyone knew that Holland was a step closer to the final. Every bus that passed honked continuously, the drivers and passengers waving as they passed. Car drivers, normally sedate, flew Dutch flags and orange balloons and bunting, revved their engines and honked their horns. Groups of youths on bicycles hooted and whistled and made as much noise as possible. We have written before about how the Dutch celebrate, but this topped anything I have seen so far. If this is what we get when Nederland beats Brazil, what will happen if (when) Nederland takes the cup?
The NZ rugby, racing and beer culture is often criticised. It takes a healthy dose of a soccer, speed-skating and Genever gin culture to put that into perspective.
Footnote:
NZ, with three draws, was unlucky not to proceed into the second round of the World cup. Hans told me that in 1982, Italy also drew in the first three games, but proceeded to the second round and eventually won the cup that year. Oh, what might have been…
Tags: celebrations, Dutch, football, Haarlem, Orange Craze, the Coach House Inn
