Confessions of a Non Football Supporter

“COME ON!”

I had spent the last ten minutes shouting similar words of frustration at the Dutch football team each time they had kicked the ball at the goal in front of them only to miss, have it blocked or bounce it off a goal post.

“YOU’RE SO CLOSE!”

I was not shouting these words at them directly of course. It wasn’t as if I was sitting next to the coach in the stadium (even though he seemed to be shouting similar words in Dutch). In reality I was sitting next to my beloved Dutch wife, in our front room, shouting at the Dutch team via our television. It didn’t seem to be helping much, probably because they could not actually hear me. My wife seemed deeply amused by my actions nevertheless.

“And I thought you were not into football that much,” she says with a sly smirk.

It is true. Normally I have no interest in football at all. In fact, under normal circumstances I have about as much interest in football as most people have in the study of agricultural crop rotation. I just seem to get sucked into it when the world cup starts, more and more each time… Although I still was not going to admit that I have no clue what the outside rule means, especially to my wife who is the football expert of the house.

“Yeah… Well… I’m not but this game is really tense,” I offer as a shorter explanation as I sit there wearing my orange t-shirt and with little Dutch flags painted on my cheeks. Maybe she has a point. Maybe I do get a little too enthusiastic for someone who claims to have no interest whatsoever in football.

But I am quickly distracted once more as the Dutch team suddenly gets the ball again and starts running like crazy towards the other team’s goal as if they just stole the dinner of a particular hungry, fast moving pack of wolves.

“YA!”

The ball is suddenly kicked and it sails through the air towards the goal.

“YA! YA!”

The members of the defending team try desperately to knock it off course. Each one of them fails. The ball continues its journey towards the goal until…

“YA… COME ON! COME ON!”

… it bounces harmlessly off a goal post and flies off in a random direction.

“NEEEEEEEEEE!”

“You do know you’re not actually Dutch right?” My wife asks, just to make sure. I get the impression that she is no longer watching the game and is instead transfixed by my out of character football enthusiasm.

“England is already out. I have no one else to support. Don’t take this away from me.”