I don’t care for soccer. Not a single shred in my body cares for it. If soccer would disappear from the crust of the earth today, I wouldn’t miss it. But others would.
Eighty-thousand soccer fans trekked yesterday to the Museumplein in Amsterdam to join in the celebrations for the thirtieth national title of the Ajax team.
My nephew had assured me that FC Twente would win, so I had deluded myself into looking forward to a quiet Sunday afternoon and evening.
Ajax is the only publicly listed company and its shares went up 8% today. Television executives are elated about yesterday’s ratings for the match itself and for programs around the honors ceremony on the Museumplein afterwards.
The City of Amsterdam reports that it is pleased, because “Nobody got seriously hurt.” This, in spite of dozens of people being hurt in minor ways squashed by the crowds, the need to set up an emergency hospital behind the stage, ambulances delayed by berserk crowds and racial slurs toward the Jewish people persisting, even during the honors ceremony. Sixty-two people were arrested for violent behavior and vandalism.
Amsterdam is happy.
The majority speaks.