ROMANCING THE ORANGE

Jul 12, 2010 Features / Columnists, Tony Deyal column

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The world will experience one big Dutch party tomorrow!  That is not just nostalgia speaking although when I was in my teens, “Dutch” parties were all the rage.  What made them “Dutch” rather than just “parties” were that you had to carry something to the party – boys were expected to supply the drinks and the girls were expected to provide the goods and goodies, however defined.
As far as the girls were concerned, most of the boys had one objective and it had to do with the favourite Dutch flower, tulips, and whatever else was in bloom or bloomers.  However, the drinks were a different matter altogether – most boys going to a Dutch party intended to drink more liquor than they brought – many came with two Caribs but brought a Johnny Walker appetite.
My friend Orland and I had developed a reputation for “busting” the neighbourhood Dutch Parties – drinking out the liquour and asking for more.  We were as popular as Dutch Elm disease, a tree-killing fungus identified in Holland in 1921.
There is also the “Dutch Disease” which has nothing to do with trees but with economics.  The term was first used by The Economist magazine in 1977 to describe a problem which, at the time, was unique to Holland – its exploitation of natural resources, in this case oil, was accompanied by a decline in its manufacturing sector.
In football terms, the “Dutch Disease” amounted to falling apart or completely losing it, literally and metaphorically, in the finals.  It was more than a fungus, it was a blight that infected the team for many, many years.
The term “Dutch Party”, “Dutch Treat” or “Going Dutch” really means that the costs are shared among all the participants in a party or gathering.  In the days when men paid all the bills, or the person who invited the other drinkers paid the whole tab, this was meant as an insult to the tight-fisted Dutch.  The anti-Dutch phrases originated during the Anglo-Dutch wars between England and the Netherlands in the 17th and 18th Centuries.
There were some very interesting “Dutch” putdowns from those days that are still current.  The one I like best is “Dutch Courage”.  It is the quintessential bar-room pronouncement of invulnerability made under the influence of considerable alcohol.
In 1650, Franciscus Sylvius, a Dutch doctor, created gin in an attempt to cure a range of illnesses. This was then used by soldiers in the Thirty Year War and was not just a “hit” but a lot of “hits” which reputedly had a calming if not a totally numbing effect before battle. In fact, even if you got your nether regions shot off you could just gin and bear it.
As an aside, a polar beer walked into a bar, looked at the bartender and said, “I want a gin…and tonic.”  The bartender asked, “No problem, but why the big pause?”  The bear replied, “I don’t know.  I’ve always had them.”
Since the Anglo-Dutch wars the present generation and their forebears used the phrases Dutch Cap (contraceptive diaphragm), Dutch Wife (in these days an inflatable sex doll), Dutch Widow (prostitute), Double-Dutch (gibberish), and Dutch Bottomed (empty bottle).  If the Dutch feel offended, they can then be offered some Dutch Comfort, which means telling someone in pain or trouble that “things could be worse”.
In fact, things do get worse with put-downs like Dutch Auction (an auction which starts with a high bid and works down), Dutch Bargain (a one-sided agreement), Dutch Cheese (baldness e.g. Arjen Robben) and Dutch Concert (an event in which everyone plays a different tune or sings a different song).
The story of the Dutch football team has always been like a Dutch Concert with players not making any concerted effort and with their fans disconcerted.  It was as confusing and confused as Double-Dutch.  In my Dutch Party days, when football came to Trinidad Television and the story of the fantastic Pele to our cinema screens (in the film “GOAL!”), my friends all passionately supported Brazil.
Later, some switched to Argentina.  However, from the beginning I was the deliberate exception.  My love for European history, the stirring, romantic saga of William of Orange founder of the nation and the need to be different made me support the Netherlands.  Their long journey to soccer maturity was as hard on me as it was on the Dutch fans.  I was an Orangeman among Carib-men and paid a high price in drinks for my belief that one day the House of Orange will rule the football world.
Yesterday the Nederlanders faced Spaniards.  Just before the semi-final between Spain and Germany, this joke began to circulate in Holland.  One day in Bavaria, the seven dwarfs went off to work in the salt mine, while Snow White stayed at home as usual to cook their lunch.  However, when she went to the mine to deliver their lunches, she found there had been a cave-in, and there was no sign of the dwarfs.  Tearfully, Snow White shouted down the mine shaft, “Hello – is anyone there.  Can you hear me, Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Happy, Grumpy or Sneezy?” (She knew it would be no good calling Sleepy.)
Then a voice floated up from the bowels of the mine, “Germany will win the 2010 World Cup.”  “Thank God!” said Snow White, “at least Dopey’s still alive!”
I might be as bad as Dopey in my support for the Nederlanders as Dopey was in rooting for Germany.  However, for the past four years I have clung steadfastly to my belief that 2010 is the year of the Orange.  My friends who support Spain say that I am comparing apples with oranges and that oranges suck.
My wife said that the orange might be sweet to taste now but might turn sour on Sunday.  I reply, in all humility, that the Dutch will “squash” Spain and their victory would be as easy as pie – apple pie – un pastel de manzana or, better yet, an appeltaart!
*  Tony Deyal was last seen saying that “Well I’ll be a Dutchman’s Uncle!” is an expression denoting surprise.  Well, my wife’s nephew is a Dutchman which makes me a Dutchman’s uncle but on Sunday I will only be surprised if Spain wins.

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