Orange Fever first caught me back in '78 at a veeeeeeery tender age when "we" "nearly" became Champions of the World. If only Robbie Rensenbrink hadn't shot on the post in the very first minute of the match... In the years following, I didn't loose that fever in spite of the men in orange not getting very lucky. In fact, from time to time they were kind of... crap.
So what does a girl do when she finds herself in Paris in '88, where she's working as a "jeune fille au pair" and disappointingly watches her favourite team getting beaten one-nil by the Soviet Union at the very first game? I can answer that! It'll make her think: you're young, you're in Paris... why bother going through the hassle watching a bunch of overrated w****** getting whipped once again?
So she doesn't bother. And lives to regret it! Weeks later, still in Paris, she runs in to this French Prince Charming who compliments her on being Dutch: "Aaaah!! Vous-etes les champions hein!" She wants to start: "Waddaya mean champions, we're always crap".
But then she bows her head in shame. And it still is there. Cause so many years down the line, it seems as if all that glory has never occured. As far as she's concerned anyhow. She promises herself never to miss another championship again. But finds herself being disappointed time and time again. Never mind: it's always enjoyable as long as it lasts. Also, she feels she should support her team no matter what. The Dutch will only do the Polonaise when they're winning, but the Brazilians will still dance the Samba after they've lost. Now who needs that kind of supporters!? The Dutch can't dance, but that shouldn't stop them from trying to learn!
So... we're writing the year 2010. And the Men in Orange made it further into the tournament than they have done for years and years. Finally I feel it: I've caught that good old Orange Fever again. In spite of.. everything! The past, orange not really being my color, the team not being as sympathetic as they used be to and their play not as gracious as it was in the good old days.. But after watching them win five games in a row, singing our national anthem together with kids from all sorts of backgrounds and deciding I don't look as bad in orange as long as I have a tan I finally succomb.
I reckon there's only one group of people back here that will hope from the bottom of their hearts it won't happen again: houseboat owners in Amsterdam... And who can blame them!
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