Second Ajax

At the end of the school day, Jani walked home with his best friend, Rolf. Rolf lived in a houseboat in the old canal, Oudegracht. Along the way, they passed fields where rows of tulips and bluebell grew. Also, they passed a grassy field where an old windmill stood. The windmill’s blades revolved slowly as wind swept across the sails.
“Let’s walk the polders and see if someone’s playing voetball,” suggested Rolf.
“I hope so. The ground has been too wet to play lately.”
“It’s always muddy in the polder,” said Rolf as mud squished lightly beneath his feet.
Indeed, the grassy fields of the Polders were soft and spongy. Holland folk called the land Nether-lands, or low-lands. These Netherlands were the same lands under water a century ago. The Dutch reclaimed the lands, building stone dams. Then, they used windmills to pump the water out of the polder.
Two teams of boys gathered in the polders, played voetball. Brown-black mud covered their legs. Still, Jani had not played voetball in such a long time.
Rolf waved at the boys in the field. They waved back. These boys went to school with both Rolf and Jani.
“Come join us!” said one boy,
Rolf prepared to join them before Jani interrupted.
“I can’t play until I get tell my parents where I am.”
“Come with me and we’ll call from my house,” said Rolf.
“We’ll be back in a little bit,” shouted Jani.
Rolf broke into a sprint across the polder. Jani raced along behind. Across the field, tall, skinny buildings crunched together. Rolf and Jani cut through side streets until they reached the Oudegracht.
Rolf’s mother was inside the boat, working on cross-stitch.
“Hello, mum.”
“Hello, boys,” greeted his mother.
“There’s a voetball game out in the polder. Jani wanted to call home before we went out.”
“Please help yourself, Jani.”
Jani called home. His mother answered the phone. Soon, it was evident she didn’t want him playing in his dress clothes.
“Jani, would you like to stay for dinner?” asked Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“If it’s okay with my mom,”
Mrs. Van Heeswijk took the phone. “Marina, don’t worry, Jani can borrow a set of Rolf’s clothes.”
Rolf and Jani went to Rolf’s bedroom, where Rolf picked out an extra set of clothes for Jani. He picked out a pair of white socks and a pair of white shorts.
“You can change in here while I change in the bathroom,” said Rolf.
“What about a shirt?”
Rolf sorted through his closet.
“Here’s one you’ll like,” he said. He handed Rolf a jersey with red and white stripes. Jani recognized it immediately. It was just like the jerseys worn by players from Ajax Football Club. FC Ajax was the team from Amsterdam, where Mr. Van der Veld grew up.
After the boys changed their clothes, they were ready to go. They ran through the Oudegracht, returning to the polder. By the time they reached the field, the voetball game turned to a made-up form of rugby. A pile of boys fought for the ball. Everyone in the pile was covered in mud.
“Rolf! Jani! You look so clean!” shouted one boy. As he did, everyone looked up. Soon, it was dirty versus clean.
The two boys darted in opposite directions. The boys caught Rolf first, trapping him at the dike, which not only held the water out, but held Rolf in.the polder. They tackled Rolf, covering his body in mud. Now, it was all against one.
Jani grabbed a stick and used it to leap the canal running alongside the polder. The boys split off into two groups. Jani ran towards the windmill at the edge of the polder. He climbed onto the windmill’s platform, overlooking the polder.
“You’re trapped now!” shouted Rolf.
“No!” he shouted back.
The boys fathered up handfuls of sod and carried them up the ladder, one at a time, until everyone was on the platform.
“Surrender!” shouted a boy.
“Never!” He jumped off the platform, landing in the marshy field below. He sank into mud up to his ankles. As he lifted his feet, his shoes became stuck in the mud. He stepped across the polder in his bare socks as the boys laughed. Soon, they climbed down and chased him through the polder again. As he leapt over the drainage ditch, he slipped, falling into the canal.
The boys piled on, splashing around in the canal. Soon, everyone’s clothes were the color of dirty water. The boys laughed as they crawled out of the canal and collapsed on the bank.
“What now?” asked Jani.
“I liked the way you used that pole to vault the canal,” said Rolf.
“Fierljeppen?” replied Jani.
“We can leap across the terps,” said Rolf.
“Yeah, that would be fun,” said one of the boys.
Along one edge of the polder stood a terp, a man-made ridge of earth. The boys climbed to the top of the ridge. A second terp ran parallel to the first. Between the ridges, water pooled in the drainage ditch.
“Who wants to be first?” asked Rolf.
“I think Jani should show us how Fierljeppen is done,” said a boy.
Jani planted one end of the long stick in the middle of the canal. He took several steps back and got a running start. He reached out, grabbed the pole and swung across. As the pole stopped at the top of the arc, Jani climbed the pole and swung his legs. As the pole fell to the other side, he leapt off, landing on the other side of the canal. The boys hooted and clapped.
“Who’s next?” he asked.
“Me,” said Wil. Jani pushed the pole over to the other side and Wil caught it by the end. He adjusted the pole and then walked to the top of the terp. He took long strides down the side of the terp before leaping at the pole. He grabbed it and vaulted the canal, landing on the other side with Jani.
Boys continued in this manner, leaping from one side of the canal to the other and then leaping back. Some made it across. Some did not. On Rolf’s last turn, he grabbed the pole too low. It stopped at the top of the arc. Rolf swung his legs back, trying to carry his momentum across the canal. The top of the pole tipped sideways. Rolf let go, jumping into the canal. Water splashed up, soaking the boys who watched.
Rolf climbed out of the drainage ditch and joined his friends on the terp. As the sun finished its own fierljeppen over Utrecht, it was time to call it a day. Boys separated into smaller groups and headed off towards their homes. Jani and Rolf walked towards the Oudegracht.
The door on the boat was locked shut. When Rolf knocked, his mother poked her head out a window.
“You boys are a mess. There’s a garden hose and towels on the dock. Before you can enter the boat, you have to wash the mud off your bodies..”
Rolf hooked one end of the garden hose to the pump faucet and handed the other end to Jani.
“You first.”
Jani pumped the water from the well and used it to spray excess mud off his body. Rolf did the same and then unhooked the hose from the faucet. Rolf grabbed his shirt tail and wrung out excess water. Jani sat on the deck of the boat, drying off the best he could.
They knocked on the door again. Mrs. Van Heeswijk inspected the boys once again.
“Leave your shoes outside,” she ordered.
“This is my only pair,” said Jani.
“You can get them before you leave.”
After taking off their shoes, the boys changed into another set of clothes and joined Mrs. Van Heeswijk at the dinner table. There was plenty to eat. She prepared rookwurst, stamppot, and baked dough balls for the boys.
“Where’s papa?” asked Rolf.
“Your father may be getting home later. We’ll start without him.”
“May I have some stamppot?” asked Jani.
“Here you go,” said Rolf. Jani scooped several spoonfuls of stamppot onto the center of his dish. Jani arranged the mix of smashed potatoes, spinach, carrots, and sauerkraut on his plate. On top of the stamppot, he plopped a rookwusrt and placed the biscuits around the outside.
“That’s quite some arrangment you have there,” said Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“It’s my rookwurst castle with a stamppot moat.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied.
Rolf arranged his food in much the same manner as Jani. Often on cold and rainy days, Jani’s mother would cook stamppot and serve it with meat for dinner. It was a bit of food he become quite accustomed to eating for dinner.
The cabin door opened and in stepped Mr. Van Heeswijk. He noticed Jani sitting at the table and greeted him. He also saw the serving platters on the table and smiled.
“Ah, rookwurst,” he said.
“We just started eating. Pull up a chair,” said Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
They passed plates and platters back and forth across the table, placing food on Mr. Van Heeswijk’s plate. Except for the sound of mouths chewing, the kitchen area was quiet. Jani worked his way through the stamppot, then filled his plate again. Jani’s mother never had trouble with Jani eating vegetables, especially when she mashed it together and served it with wurst or a cut of boiled lamb.
“I noticed the voetball jerseys and cleats outside.”
“We were playing in the polder,” said Rolf.
“Ajax plays Utrecht in a few weeks,” said Mr. Van Heeswijk.
“I can’t wait,” said Jani.
“Are you going to cheer for Ajax or Utrecht?”
“My whole family roots for FC Ajax. In fact, my dad named our terrier Ajax.”
“Of course! How could I forget about that?” chuckled Mr. Van Heeswijk, “Let me show you something.”
Mr. Van Heeswijk got up from the table and walked down the hall. Jani noticed Mr. Van Heeswijk crouching as he moved through the boat’s cabin.
“How do you keep from hitting your head on the ceiling?” he asked.
“I’ve just gotten used to the cramped quarters, I guess,” replied Mr. Van Heeswijk, “Plus, I try not to move around more than necessary.”
Mr. Van Heeswijk sat a photo album on the kitchen table. He flipped through the pages, looking through the pictures. He turned the book to face Jani and pointed to a picture. Two young men stood arm-in-arm outside a stadium.
“Do you know who this is?”
“It looks like my father.”
Mr. Van Heeswijk nodded. “We met at Utrecht University. While all the other students rooted for Utrecht, we always rooted for Ajax.”
“That’s how it is with us, too,” said Rolf.

“I should talk to Mr. Van der Veld. Maybe we could go to that game together.”
“That would be great,”
“I’m not promising anything yet,” said Mr. Van Heeswijk.
As the meal wound down, conversation circulated around Utrecht’s match with Ajax. Just after dark, Jani said his good-byes and hurried back to his house. His shoes squished the whole way, filled with mud from the polders.
Mrs. Van der Veld washed the muddy shoes in the sink. She then placed them near the fireplace to dry. Meanwhile, Jani interrupted his father in the workshop.
“Papa?” he called out.
“What is it, Jani?”
‘I wanted to talk to you about the Ajax-Utrecht match.”
“Just a minute,” said his father.
Jani shared the details of dinner with the Van Heeswijk’s, leaving out the bits about what was eaten and leaving in the bits about what was said. Mr. Van der Veld stood across from his son with his arms folded, simply nodding his head.
“Mr. Van Heeswijk is stopping by tomorrow. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Okay.”
“Now get ready for bed,” said Jani’s father.
Jani rushed upstairs and took a shower. The hot water warmed Jani, inside and out. With the washcloth, he rubbed off chunks of mud from his ears to his toes, and everywhere else in between. He stepped out of the shower, warm and clean.
After Jani donned a pair of pajamas, he tucked himself into bed and turned off the light. He still wasn’t sure, but the very moment he mentioned the match, his father’s voice lit up. For now, the answer would have to wait until he saw Mr. Van Heeswijk tomorrow.