Dai looks at looks at football’s lifeblood -the friendships it nurtures.
As I mentioned on our recent podcast, my local team ADO Den Haag have got to the playoffs, as they seek a quick return to the top flight in the Netherlands. As I walked quickly to my local bar for the first leg, I felt a surge in my stomach that only football can give you.
ADO took an early lead whilst our opponents, NAC Breda, scored a great equaliser half way through the second half. As the 90th minute ticked over, we were agreed in the pub we’d be happy with a draw and bring NAC back to our place this weekend to finish the job off. Cue former Newcastle United full back Darryl Janmaat, surging forward and cutting the ball back to a lad celebrating his birthday with his debut to score a 93rd minute winner. The pub was carnage. Cheering, screaming, hugging, kissing at one point. The owner of my local started dishing out shots and then the real problems started. I realised that I’d told my pal (who does weekly bets for us) that I wanted ADO to win 2-1. 275 euros incoming. This was just before he told me he’d ignored my advice and put 25 euro on NAC to win by 2 or more goals. The kissing very nearly turned to fisty cuffs.
As we discussed our weekend meet up and drinking plans and whiled away the hours singing songs and talking rubbish, I asked myself, why do I care so much about this. I’ve only been here for 18 months! The reality is, loving football football isn’t always actually about loving football.
Before the Netherlands, I lived in America. I played 7 a side and went to watch football and it opened up so many doors for me. Back in 2014 I went to watch a new team in the lower leagues called Boston City FC. I wrote a blog about the experience and it got passed onto a guy I called “Football Chris” who ran a non league USA twitter page. He sent me a message and invited me to meet him in a bar for the next home game. Two weeks later we were drinking shots at 5.30 in a weird place which was one half Chinese takeaway and other half pizzeria. A few years later and this guy from football (he set up a 7 a side team I then joined) came to a school event with his now wife and some of the other team members.
This guy, Chris Reid, was watching Wales beat Belgium in the Euros with me. He became one of my best friends, and I am so grateful to him for how open and welcoming he was with me. When I left Boston and told him I was leaving, I cried. He was the only one this happened with. I was friends with him. His brothers. His sister in law. His wife. His friends. He was family on a different continent. That was football. Let’s also remember, this is where I met Ruth too, and that’s a whole other story. She’s part of the family too now, even though she lives further away again.
Cymru beating Austria was a joyous occasion not simply because of Gareth Bale’s endlessly brilliant left foot, but because I celebrated it with the right people. People I’ve known since nappies or Year 7. It’s why I will never forget sharing a glance across a packed Wales end in Paris with a friend I’d witnessed lose humiliatingly to Finland with, and now defeat Northern Ireland. The examples are endless. We tell ourselves we’ve wanted this forever. We haven’t. We’ve wanted to witness it together.
Back here and in the now, I am going to this weekends second leg with my friend who is visiting from Wales, a PE teacher from Swansea who works with me and a Scottish guy I reluctantly met in the pub because our wives chatted. Our Dutch friend who brought a dead rabbit in a bag to my house once, and normally comes too, can’t make it. We will be going to our local after the match to celebrate or commiserate with the girls who run the bar and tolerate us. Put on our favourite songs. Get us drunk. Share our sorrows, join with our superstitions. They understand what football is to us, in our jointly unspoken way.
In one short year of going to matches, we sat together in lockdown, we supported each other through some dark times, and always found something to laugh at even when the occasion didn’t warrant a light touch. The reason this matters so much, is because we have done this together. We’ve made a weird group of unlikely friends, who have shared the emotion of life in lockdown and everything else that goes with it. Football may be the vehicle but it’s also the lifeblood of so many relationships.
Come what may, after this weekends results, I’ll be elated and gutted for so many reasons. If we lose, the journey is over for now, on and off the pitch. By the same token, it may bumble into Tuesday next week as we all scramble to make plans to go to the away game if we can. Who knows, in two weeksfrom now we could be together, calling in sick from work because we are celebrating ADO and promotion. That what we will tell ourselves anyway. We will really be celebrating the things that football has given us. Friendship. Regardless of the results, this is why I care so much about football, and why football means so much to me.
Up the ADO.