Here's an article I wrote while experiencing the World Cup of European Football in St. Maarten. It was insane and wild and so much fun.
I arrived at Marty’s early,
having been warned that it would be a madhouse for the game. That was not an
understatement! Having staked my claim on a small table and two bar stools, I
settled back to watch the increasingly steady tide of Orange wash in from the
parking lot. I was joined, shortly, by a good friend of mine from Holland, Jax,
and we prepared to watch the game with a couple of drinks and an air of
expectation.
As the kick off drew near, the
atmosphere at Marty’s was increasingly anxious and excited. Soon I felt like I
was bobbing along in an orange sea, with still more people pressing to get
inside in wave after wave of orange. They wanted to get to the bar, to a drink
and to a good spot to see the two big TVs Marty had set up. As for seating, if
you came early enough you scored a chair or a bar stool. Late comers had their
choice of places on the metal scaffolding set up for the game, though it was a
little unforgiving to your backside. It was not a first time visit for many
people, so I saw many pillows being carried in the direction of the
scaffolding. I could hear the same questions floating through the crowd: How
good was Uruguay, really? Could Holland really make it to the finals? Against
whom? Germany? Spain? The questions were interrupted by the Netherland’s
national anthem, which many sang at Marty’s with gusto. The anthem was followed
by a roar from the crowd at the kick off of the game. People were already on
their feet, applauding and cheering.
And then it happened.
Less than 2O minutes into the
first half – Holland scored. Madness erupted all around me. People were jumping
and cheering and hugging each other, screaming all the while. I was right along
for the ride. I found myself in the very strong clutches of a young Dutch woman
who was urging me to will Holland to a win. Her desire for the game was
infectious and I couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm.
“I know you’re not from Holland,
but will you cheer with me?” she asked. Who could say no? Besides, even though
I’m not from Holland, I was definitely FOR Holland. I gave her a big squeeze
and told her, “Holland will do just fine. I have a feeling. Just you wait and
see.” I got a giant Cheshire Cat grin in return.
And then it happened.
Just a little over 2O minutes
after Holland’s goal, Uruguay scored. A rather lightening fast goal that left
the crowd saying, “What just happened?” I looked over at Jax and frowned in confusion.
I had literally looked down for 2 seconds to find something on the table and
there was a goal. The game was tied. Back to square one and it was half time.
Half time was spent in the usual manner of any big sporting events: The mad
rush to the bar and bathrooms. I took a few moments to chat with the people
around, smiling at all the people from different countries there to represent
Holland. I had one group of women from Colombia who didn’t speak a word of
Dutch but were cheering madly and decked out in Orange. “We love football! And
Holland!” they happily told me. Just behind me was a lady from Belgium and in
front of me were 2 German gentlemen. One of the Germans smiled at me and told
me in a playfully scheming tone, “Just seeing what the competition for the
final will be.” That made me laugh and clap him on the back.
At the kick off to the second
half, the atmosphere was slightly different. There was a sense of urgency
drifting around the crowd. Questions surfaced again: Can Holland do this? Sure enough,
7O minutes into the game, Holland scored, and the crowd at Marty’s became a
wild melee. I found myself showered in Heineken and being slapped on the back and
kissed by everyone in my general vicinity. Jax leaned towards me with a huge
grin on her face. “Can you believe it? This is so amazing!” I grinned back,
hoisting a Heineken in the air, although I’m not quite sure where it came from.
It seemed to have magically materialized in my hand. Three minutes later, another goal! Madness
would be an understatement. The crowd
erupted into frenzied glee. The chant of Holland! Holland! Was being yelled out
from every corner, followed by Ole, Ole, Ole. I smiled sheepishly at my friend
and started singing: na,na,naa na, na na naa na, hey hey, hey Good bye. Soon
the crowd was roaring that little tune as well. Jax and I found ourselves, once
again, amidst a fountain of Heineken and miscellaneous other drinks as people
around us were, seemingly, losing their minds.
Twenty minutes later, the crowd
gave a collective gasp as Uruguay scored a goal in extra time for the second
half. A brief look of panic washed across the sea of Orange. What was this…?
Could it be possible? Could Uruguay make some sort of miraculous come back?
Would there be extra time? A shoot out? The answer was NO. The final whistle
blew and lunacy erupted once again. This time the orange sea surged through the
front of Marty’s spilling out to swamp the main road. Traffic was stopped as
people dance and cheered in the street. One young man was suddenly a toreador,
challenging, playfully, the on coming traffic with a Dutch flag. No one seemed
to mind, and many dubbed him the unofficial official mascot as horn honked,
people cheered and hugged and buckets of ice water where being dumped on random
revelers.
The crowd began thinning out
around 6pm, nearly 2 hours after the end of the game. The orange tide was slowly
dispersing, drifting away from Marty’s or back into Marty’s. I briefly spoke to
Marty, who looked exhausted but content. The unofficial beer tally was 1O5
cases of beer in 2 hours. Astounding!
I bid a weary farewell to Jax and
to my new friends, promising I would see them again this Sunday. Same time,
same place, and hopefully the same outcome. Go Holland!
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