A plump spectre stoops uneasily as he prepares to ascend into the incandescent white light, high above the chanting crowd. His dark suit is tighter than he remembers as he squints through tiny, clouded, circular glasses at all that he has assembled.
His moustache, once black and bush-like, is now grey and fading. His hair, once dark and wild, is now receding – yet neatly coiffed. His mind, once sharp, is blunt, bereft of ideas; stale. Eighty-three years old, childless, and alone, Gerard Leonard Frederik Philips checks his pocket-watch and drifts into The light.
We’ve been planning our latest football trip for a couple of months, and now it is already upon us. It is an ambitious schedule. 3 matches, in 3 countries, in 3 days!
We’ve arrived in Dover ‘well-early’ after leaving my house at 6.15 for a midday ferry crossing. Darren is driving, and I’m grateful for that. He has a smart BMW, and I mess around a lot with the heated seats on the way, as we listen to the 90s football podcast.
We’re grateful when we’re told we can board an earlier ferry at the check-in booth, and we are soon on our merry way across the channel. I’ve brought croissants and Haribo jelly babies for the crossing to Dunkirk, so we save money on buying breakfast on the ship. It goes in the fruit machine instead; we don’t win.
We spend about fifteen minutes looking for a door out onto the deck of the ship and discover it isn’t really worth it. It’s cold and a bit shit really. There’s no sign of Kate Winslet anywhere or a swimming pool. While we are on the ferry, I get a call from my youngest daughter to tell me that she has passed her driving test at the first time of asking. She starts off by telling me that she’s failed but she’s fooling nobody. I’m over the moon for her and it’s a great way to start our trip1.
Darren missed his vocation in life; he should have been a travel planner, not a Schools Programme Delivery Manager at the Ordnance Survey. He’s got this trip planned out meticulously. If I was wearing a hat, I’d take it off to him.
Our first match is in Eindhoven tonight, where high flying PSV take on Heracles under the floodlights. It’s been a busy few weeks, so the research is a bit last minute. In the car, we search up Skiete Willy. He’s the little fella on some of the merch that we’ve seen, and we’re keen to find out more about him.
Willy Van der Kuijlen played 528 league games and scored 308 times for PSV, both being all-time club records. With 311 career goals in total, Van der Kuijlen also holds the all-time Eredivisie goal record. Van der Kuijlen ended up playing for the club 18 years, winning three Eredivisie titles, two domestic cups and the UEFA Cup in 1978. He won 22 caps and scored seven goals for the Netherlands national team in the 1960s and 1970s, but his international career was marred by frequent clashes with Johan Cruyff and his allies.
Willy van der Kuijlen – Wikipedia
We’ve splashed out on a Holiday Inn and it’s only a stone’s throw from the ground. Darren’s driven a long way today and it’s good to get into the room and chill for a little while. However, it’s not long before we are heading to the stadium to raid the club store.
Walking in Eindhoven, there are two things that you need to be careful of. The first is that the cars come from the opposite direction when you are crossing the street. The second is a lot more dangerous. Bicycles. They are everywhere and they stop for nobody. We take our chances with the cyclists and have a couple of near misses before arriving, still in one piece, at the store.
In the store, Darren tries hard to convince me to buy some PSV Eindhoven pyjamas. They only have them in kids sizes so I pretend to try them on for size for a laugh. I buy a bobble hat, a pin and a t-shirt. Darren buys a T-shirt and some other bits. We’ve got some vouchers for the shop with our match tickets so it’s a no-brainer to make sure that we spend it all. We take our stuff back to the hotel before making our way back to the ground for the pre-match drinks.
Outside the stadium, an hour before kick-off, there is a DJ on a stage in a dimly lit marquee playing Europop and football tunes. We’re a little surprised when he slaps on Sweet Caroline, widely accepted as the recently adopted anthem of English football. Some of the Dutch fans sing along under the red tinted stage lights, and we’re both getting in the mood now.
The beer is a bit pricey right next to the ground, so we head across the busy ring-road to some pop-up bars and get ourselves a couple of amber beverages and a hot dog each. There’s more atmosphere over here, and it’s all good-natured. The plastic cups they serve the beer in have pictures of a PSV player on each of them. It’s a lottery which one you get. It’s like opening a sealed packet of panini stickers (match attax cards for the younger readers), and I’ve definitely got the better squad.
The Philips Stadion is a 4-star rated stadium according to UEFA and has a capacity of 36,500. Established as the Philips Sportpark, it was constructed as a sports field for Philips employees in 1910. The Philips Elftal played football matches from 1911 until 1913, when the team was succeeded by PSV. Since 1913, PSV has used the original ground as its home stadium.
In the 1970’s and later in the 1990’s, the stadium was covered and extended up to boast two tiers. The four corners were completed in 2002, expanding the capacity to it’s current level. The North East and South East corners are distinctively futuristic when viewed from the outside but honestly, they are not in keeping with the rest of the stadium and look a bit odd.
Once inside we are treated to an incredible light show ahead of the match. We’ve got brilliant tickets fairly close to the halfway line and its perfect for watching the action.
Gerard Philips looks down with glazed eyes. He is not easily impressed, yet he smiles at the way the lights dance to the music across his field of electronic dreams. He weeps openly as the golden generations are relived on the big screen. The 1978 UEFA Cup is won and held aloft. The 1988 European Cup final is replayed as Van Breukelen saves Benfica’s sixth penalty. Philips. This is his club. His company. His city. He will stay a while, perhaps for eternity.
Once the match gets underway, PSV dominate. When Bryan Limbombe is given his marching orders after 13 minutes for a dangerous tackle, Heracles retreat to the edge of their own box and it’s only a handful of minutes before PSV open the scoring. Luuk de Jong glances in from a deft Joey Veerman free kick and the game is effectively over there and then.
Only some miraculous goalkeeping prevents PSV from racking up double figures. Michael Brouwer makes 11 saves in the Heracles goal and at least half of them are world class.
On 72 minutes, Heracles almost haul themselves back into it when substitute Mario Engels skips through the PSV defence before hitting the far post from a narrow angle.
A couple of wonder saves later and the match is over.
We head into the city for a bit of a stroll and we’re on the hunt for food. I weigh up the merits of a kebab over a McDonalds meal but common sense prevails. A kebab this early on in the trip would no doubt play havoc with me for another day or two so we opt for the golden arches.
I avoid the McKroket which is McDonald’s take on the broodje kroket, which consists of a slice of deep-fried, breaded cheese and meat patty between two pieces of bread. The McDonald’s version has something like beef ragout inside and is served plain on a McDonald’s bun with mustard sauce.
We watch some stand-up on YouTube as we fall asleep. Tomorrow we will cross two borders and journey south into France.
Little Gerard is afraid of the darkness. One day, he thinks to himself. One day, I will light up the night sky with my dreams.
Footnotes
- The fundamental difference between a trip and holiday is defined thus: A trip places zero expectation on the traveller to buy gifts for their family. However, a holiday places an absolute requirement on the traveller to find something cheap and tacky (although it may appear expensive and culturally refined) to hand over as a peace offering upon their return. ↩︎