Because today is the day of the Dutch Cup Final, I would like to share with you, in two parts, the story of my first Cup Final, Roda JC - Heerenveen in 1997.
I missed the first four minutes as it turned out I could not see when I covered my eyes in an attempt to pretend I was somewhere entirely different. Somewhere where my team had not come so desperately close to the finish line only to surely fall tragically short. I was not familiar with, nor did I expect, any type of success. This is what went through me in the moments before kick-off:
- No way are winning this. We’ve never won a thing. Second place doesn’t count. We’ve played this Cup Final, what, like three times before. Did we ever win? Didn’t think so. We can’t win this. They’ve got Igor Korneev. Igor Korneev! That guy came from FC Barcelona, we’re never going to win against a team who has a player from FC Barcelona.
- Goddamnit , this is so like Roda. They’ve come this far and now they’re going to tragically fall short. Man, I wished we hadn’t even come this far, at least then I wouldn’t have to be so fucking disappointed in a while. Typical. Bloody typical. Why do I still even support this club? How dare they lose when I’m in the stadium. When I came all the way to see my first Final.
- Well let’s hope they’ll at least put up a fight. That’s the least I can ask for, right? There’s some honour in going down swinging, I guess. Just, please, make it a game. I know you’re not going to win, but at least don’t embarrass me. Yourselves! Don’t embarrass yourselves, of course. Just, - god I hate saying this – go out there and give it your best shot. Make me proud?
- Oh my god there he is. Igor fucking Korneev. That’s it. Jesus Christ I wish I hadn’t gone to this stupid game. Why do this to myself? Disappointment tastes bad enough through a tv-screen, but this is going to be a whole other level.
- Ah well. At least we made the final, that’s pretty nice. At least we’re still in there and not making total idiots out of ourselves. At least we’re…we’re up? We’re up 1-0?
I don’t remember a whole lot of the game itself. I remember singing the anthem, waiving the cheap plastic flags that were deposited on each seat, I remember most goals being scored on the other side of the pitch, but I don’t recall the actual goals themselves. And I remember, after my first Cup Final, walking out of de Kuip victorious.
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1 comment:
Sweet.
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