- 10 Jun 08, 08:40 AM
Berne
Picture the scene - a huge, cavernous underground factory somewhere in the flatlands of Holland populated by industrious and willing orange munchkins.
They slave away producing every conceivable clothing item in bright, distinct orange to satisfy the need of a nation's football frenzy.
I doubt whether Berne has ever seen anything like what it witnessed on Monday as the Dutch provided a textbook lesson in the fine arts of bringing a major tournament to life.
Orange Elvises, orange mountain maids, orange bears, orange road workers, nuclear plant workers in orange radiation suits - orange variations of any kind of clothing you care to mention rolled into town and sparked a huge, huge party.
It was an awe-inspiring sight and, inching my way through the increasingly inebriated masses, I felt for the first time here in Switzerland the true magic of a major football tournament, the point at which it all starts to make sense.
The Italians were here as well but somehow they fail to invade your senses in the same way. They wear shirts and hats and drape flags over their backs but tend to sport a stylish jean, a neat trainer and a handy line in man bags. It just isn't the same.
They sing the same song - ner ner ner ner ner nerrrr nerrrrrr - over and over (anything wrong with a few words?) but had lost their voice after their 3-0 drubbing. Wandering back into town, many had that thousand-yard stare that I know all too well.
The banter that had characterised the afternoon hours under the Swiss sun had become very one sided.
No question, Monday belonged to the Dutch and, if Euro 2008 is to really ignite, their massive presence is all the more welcome.
Occasionally, a businessman in a suit would emerge confused and lost from amid the mass of orange, wondering what had happened to his beloved city.
I could only sympathise, for he would have looked no more out of place if he had suddenly found himself wandering across a medieval battlefield.
The floor could only occasionally be seen, such was the mass of litter, while the Dutch fan in 2008 is incomplete if he does not have a loudspeaker, which he uses, to his great amusement, to communicate with his friend mere inches away.
By the time the Dutch started their mass march to the stadium, the water in the fountains had turned orange while the age old formula of drinking plenty and allowing yourself to bake in the sun for several hours was coming along nicely.
I had hoped to watch the match on a big TV at a Fan Zone but could not get anywhere near either one. A tiny glimpse of a bottom corner of the screen was the best view on offer, but it seemed to satisfy many of those who could no longer focus.
Thousands of ticketless Dutch remained outside the ground while the game was on, but the curious local populace who had come to join the party made up for any shortfall in numbers.
Many wore Italian or Dutch colours but you could spot them a mile off. For starters, they weren't hammered and, secondly, couples wore alternate colours. The Swiss, I guess, are keen to maitain a sense of balance and neutrality.
In the end, I settled for an Australian-Czech bar, an unusual combination but at least I could see the match. Several Czech fans turned up and promptly fell sound asleep, sunglasses gradually slipping off their heads, much to the increasing annoyance of the barmaid. Still, at least the one sat next to me didn't throw up all down my new shorts.
Afterwards, as I walked back to my hotel, I had the definite feeling I was leaving a massive party.
But not everyone in town was here for the football.
Earlier in the day, I had been minding my own business in a seat on the other side of a square from Berne Munster.
A tour group of elderly people gathered several feet in front of me to listen to their guide.
In a sterling illustration of how age withers our control over the body, a man at the back suddenly let rip the most remarkable burst of flatulence I have heard in a long, long time. It was a good job nobody in the near vicinity was trying to light a cigarette.
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Amsterdam shook when the first goal went in!
Here's looking forward to an Oranje summer!
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"I doubt whether Berne has ever seen anything like what it witnessed on Monday as the Dutch provided a textbook lesson in the fine arts of bringing a major tournament to life."
So was the 1954 World Cup Final, when West Germany came from 2 down to beat Hungary 3-2 not very good.
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I predicted Holland to win the tournament, but was a little unsure after seeing who is in their group. But after that performance, and the performances of France v Romania, I can definately see them going through. Holland for the win!
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Okay, the "ner" song...
ner ner ner ner ner nerrrr nerrrrrr
Could it be:
We gaan naar Wenen toe...
We gaan naar Wenen toe...
We gaan naar Wenen toe...
We gaan naar Wenen toe...
What it means?
We're going to Vienna... (and that a few times over)
B.T.W. I had a wonderfull evening, fantastic game. I hope they will keep up the good work.
TFK
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""Okay, the "ner" song...
ner ner ner ner ner nerrrr nerrrrrr"
I believe it's something else.
Namely the song "Life is life" (na na na na na naaa naaa naaaaaa )
Made popular by this advertisement:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTNM-3WM_fM
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I doubt the Italians would be singing a song in Dutch.....
:-p
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Fletch, you haven't seen anything until you attend Queen's Day in Amsterdam and to a lesser extent Queen's Night in Den Haag.
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The ner ner ner ner nerrrrr nerrrrr song is the riff from 7 Nation Army by the White Stripes and hence wordless.
Personally, I think they'd do rather well to extend it into the start of the verse:
[We're] gonna fight 'em off
A seven nation army couldn't hold [us] back
A bit of fighting spirit never goes amiss on the sportsfield.....
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Ipswich_blue
What happened in the Wankdorf in 1954 was undoubtedly of great historical significance but I doubt whether fans travel in number like they do now. I reckon that when the final was taking place the city centre in Berne was pretty normal. No fan zones in them days.
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Great article, but if we are all talking about the Dutch can we do them the courtesy of getting the name of their country right.
The Country playing Italy was The Netherlands not Holland.
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DutchMagpie,
I catch your drift - and your point is something I hear alot - but if that is the case then why were the Dutch chanting 'Hup Holland' all the time?
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Because "Go the Netherlands" doesn't really have the same ring to it..
as a Dutchman I couldn't care less, it's a historical thing that stuck, and mostly people from the provinces complain about it because it references the historically important regions of North- and South Holland in the west of the NL.
hey, as long as we keep winning you can call us whatever you want!
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Sublimesk's right: we don't care as long as we're in the winning mood.
You know, it's not that I'm a big fan of the game (hey, I'm a girl, so I'm allowed to), but seeing Italy, the world champion (can't stress that enough) being wiped off the pitch by our guys... it's almost as good as winning the final. (I said almost.)
Wanna share the feeling?
Just go Dutch by checking this site (lol):
http://www.justgodutch.com/
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As being someone from the North of the Netherlands i would cared about the "Holland" calling thing, but not right now. I just shout HOLLAND like everyone else. Go Holland.
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"Holland", "The Netherlands", who cares?
WE ARE ORANGE!!!
The Dutch were absolutely brilliant. The star of the show clearly was Feyenoord player Gio.
A magnicifent display, despite having Van Basten as a coach!!! (the guy could play football but how could he ever jeopardize the precense of "van the man"????)
Now on to fry some french fries!!!
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Is there life outside of Noord-Holland...?
;-)
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