Game On

Growing up with a Dutch father and a Scottish mother made sports a fascinating cultural experience, to say the least. For my dad, who came from a country of towering cyclists and enthusiastic football fans, sports meant discipline, strategy, and a good, non-nonsense attitude toward winning. Every Dutch sporting endeavour seemed to be meticulously thought out - whether it was football or speed skating, the Dutch knew what they were doing. My dad took this all very seriously. Watching him watch a football match was like witnessing a master class in intense wordless disappointment and occasional joyful arm-waving, mostly reserved for a win over Germany.  

Then there was my Scottish mother, whose approach to sports was, well, slightly more relaxed. For her, the primary purpose of sports was to socialise and celebrate (even if the team lost). Rugby and football games were more about the camaraderie, a bit of light-hearted shouting, and a solid excuse for a gathering. She'd cheer enthusiastically, even if she couldn’t name half the players because what mattered was the experience. Winning was just a bonus.  

When the World Cup rolled around, the divide was especially clear. My dad would be up at dawn analysing the match-ups, commenting on players' fitness, and grumbling about the referees' past decisions before the game even began. My mum, meanwhile, would throw together snacks and wave her Scotland scarf, ready to cheer along for whoever played with heart. 

 

The funny thing is this dual approach gave me a unique perspective. I learned the importance of dedication and strategy from my dad but also understood the joy of just joining in from my mum. In the end, I became a mix of the two - half tactician, half enthusiastic fan - forever embracing the world of sports as both a serious game and a social occasion.