Dijkshoorn: I love to see Wes benched…

Nico Dijkshoorn calls himself a poet. I think he just makes lovely, witty little ditties.

This is his guest column in VI. I’ll try to come up with some fun poems of his as well… Patience, already!

Wes’ new girlfriend….

“There’s a nice tension when I go to watch Holland-Macedonia on Wednesday. I hope Wesley Sneijder is benched. No one does “being benched” better and more insulted than Wes. Angry at everyone. On those bloody chairs, mounted way to high in the dug out. His little legs are hanging there, just not able to touch the ground.

Angry at Mark van Bommel, just because it’s Mark van Bommel. Angry at Kees Jansma because he put his arm around his shoulder. So humiliating. Next time they win something and chuck Jansma in the bath, he’d have to make sure he smacks his head to one of the taps. No one consoles Wes and hets away with it!

Anger. It’s his speciality. Offended when people don’t recognize his greatness. And that is the best tv there is. I saw him, years ago, stepping out of a bus with Ajax, when they practiced against amateurs. At that same time, he was negotiating with Real Madrid. There we go again, he thought. Walking amongst those sour smelling farmer boys somewhere in rural Holland

Wes didn’t play that game, but his body language was different. He liked it like this. Henk ten Cate was standing next to Sneijder, shouting at his players. He’d give his players advice or he’d call them to the touch line to explain how Nelson Mandela – also a go-getter and a close friend of Henk – had suffered for the black fellow man.

Sneijder gazed at his knee. A beauty, that knee. A real Sneijder knee. Very pretty. Kennedy Bakircioglu was pretending he was actually more than a mediocre player but Sneijder didn’t pay attention. He wanted out. He wanted to go where people could appreciate his talent. Where people would admire him.

Sneijder is the new Seedorf. Always offended and insulted. Always angry, misunderstood. They are very good players, people in other countries say. They don’t have to pay in restaurants because they’re God’s gift to football. Like Seedorf, Sneijder’s expression on the bench tells us he’s secretly solving the world hunger problem. Sweet young blokes with old faces. Whiners in their twenties.

And there’s always people who put their arm around you. It does something to you. Ask Glenn Helder. And how quickly they pull their arm back. Years of adoration made Sneijder believe he’s a God. To see yourself as unique, as someone that deserves respect…than you’re far gone. I rather see Willem van Hanegem, who successfully acts he’s been a people’s man all his life.

Wesley is the spoiled DJ who lands in Manilla and complaints about the heat of the bitumen. That’s not good for the vinyl. It’s the misplaced greatness of Mart Smeets, who would kick an employee all the way through France because the label of the wine isn’t facing him on the table.

Sneijder has all that. He comes across as someone who would wait bored stiff in fashion palace Savage Royale, while the servants try to find him some pants in the kids’ department.

Saturday against Scotland was a good day. I love seeing Wesley benched. He reluctantly does his warm up. He gazes at Bert van Marwijk. The humiliation of being benched. In Madrid, he’s replaced quite often, so he knows the feeling. And than it’s Van Persie making way for him, the same who once stole his free kick.

And then something magical happened. Wesley defrosted when the ball rolled his way. The instinct. The football player can’t resist a ball that rolls his way. Wesley responded like any player. Ball. Rolling. Fun!

He accelerated. He danced. He gave a through pass on Huntelaar. He forced a penalty. He smiled when Kuyt scored. He gave people a caress on their head. Grass. Mates. Goals. This is what it takes to make Wesley smile. When the ref blew the whistle, Wes was already home with his parents, watching a Frasier re-run. But there’s hope. Wes has a new girl friend.

That’s what it was. Wesley wanted to demonstrate that he’s a pretty good player for her. It’s school yard stuff. Annelies is in year 3a and suddenly Wes is elegant. The goalie kicks the ball in and for the first time in your life, because she’s watching, you have the courage to head the ball. You look at her and she gives you the thumbs up. The fact that Wesley is touched by this make it all bearable. He will win the World Cup for us, because his girl friend is watching…”

I like the guy. Here’s his little poem on Louis van Gaal:

Louis van Gaal writes a letter to Obama:

Dear Obama
can I call you Oba
Like you I am
the genuine article
and so you do
that well
now I will stop
because I don’t know what
else to write
so stop harassing me
will you
ok

Or his poem on Nelson Mandela and Bono:

Had I
know that
Bono would wanted to
talk to me all the time
after my release
I would have stayed on
Robbeneiland