By Dave Mangene
My favorite team is done. It has been a beautiful run.
When it all started, just a short time ago, my team had no chance. They weren't supposed to beat Spain. Hell, nobody was supposed to beat Spain.
But they beat Spain.
That's when the believing really started - in the euphoric aftermath of the Spanish slaughter.
It grew from there. Day by day. Slowly but surely. De Pay scores a goal. Sneijder scores a goal. Huntelaar makes a penalty. Krul stops two penalties.
"Could this be the year?" we pondered, at first silently, but later out loud, in public.
Yes.
Yes, it could.
We believed that all the past traumas, all the pain, all the frustration - we believed it could be wiped away in an instant, riding a tidal wave of redemption.
It's funny how, as doubt morphs into belief, as the insecure become confident, as the lion regains his swagger, we stop saying 'they' and we start saying 'we'.
When we believe, it is no longer about them. It is about us.
As if we are on the field.
As if we are playing the game.
And, in essence, we are.
"But that's ridiculous!" you say, "the players are playing. We are watching!"
Yes, in a literal sense, that is absolutely true. We have no control over the outcome of that game.
But what is sport, if not a reflection of the human ordeal?
When we watch the drama, the joy, the heartbreak, the good luck, the bad luck, the pain, the injuries, the political maneuverings, the love, the hate, the heroes, and the goats of the World Cup, are we not simply watching our own mortal journey play out on a field of green grass?
I believe we are.
In fact, beyond the literal sense, I don't think the World Cup is even about sports at all.
Just like I don't think the Glastonbury Festival is even about music.
Or the Hajj is even about religion.
Or the stock market is even about business.
Or a Presidential campaign is even about politics.
They are all about being human.
And to be human, to be alive, is to believe.
It's about believing in ourselves enough to have high expectations.
It's about believing that, even when it looks like we are dead, if we refuse to give up, we might find a way to live another day.
It's about believing in our ability to improvise and to courageously try something radical even when they call us stupid.
It's about believing that, despite the intense pain we are feeling right now, football is just a game and life is just a game, and as long as we are alive, we have an obligation to keep playing.
When Argentina scored the winning penalty, and all was lost, my sons, aged 8 and 10, both cried. "Worden we ooit wereldkampioen, Papa?", their tears fat and salty.
If I had been at my best, I would have said, "Sure fellas! Someday. But we fought hard. We never gave up. We believed in ourselves. We might not be a winner today, but we are still champions..."
But I didn't say anything like that.
Instead, I kicked my sofa and screamed "FUCK!"
We stared at the television in silence. We brought the dishes back to the kitchen. We put away the snacks and the drinks. We turned off the TV, we turned out the lights, and went upstairs to bed.
Goodnight.
Welterusten.
Morgen een nieuwe dag, and we will begin believing anew.
Thanks Oranje, for an incredible ride. We will never forget you.
~ DAVE
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