Seoul, October 10

Hey Jack,

Let me start off with a memory I have of some summer weeks spent with friends in France and Italy. I have never been that person who easily remembers which events took place when, but my best guess is it was 2004. I spent the summer of the 2002 Korea and Japan World Cup on a campsite at the Adriatic coast of Italy, and I am sure I did not visit the same campsite the year after. We did though during the trip my memory refers to, and as we happened to drive my first ever car I, I can’t have been much older than 21 years. 2004 it is. The memory of this trip lingers somewhere in the cloud that is my mind thinking of earlier years; it has no trail in modern day technology clouds. I cannot verify the dates by checking when certain photo’s were taken. Ugh, I hate being dependent on my mobile phone. Or. I hate being dependent. Realising I have been one of the lucky last ones to experience a life pre-internet and mobile phones, still makes me happy. I am not sure if any photo’s were made at all during the trip. Three guys, early twenties, minds focused on other things, mobile phones without camera’s, I had no interest in photography yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is nothing left to proof we actually made that trip, other than some fleeting brain waves.

Anyway, we made our way south from The Netherlands to the sun-scorched parts of France, probably along the Route du Soleil. The starting point of so many Dutch children’s holiday recollections. My friends and I brought tents, and sun glasses, and cd’s proving our bad taste in music. The bare necessities. A camera, sun creme, aspirine, a general clue of what to do, all things we didn’t bring, and that – with the benefit of hindsight – would have improved the experience dramatically.

Why is all this important? It is not. If only for the car we drove, my first car. An early 90’s, grey Opel Kadett. I remember buying the car second (or third, or fourth) hand for EUR 700. Although at the end of its life, it performed perfectly fine. Or just fine. Fond memories added the ‘perfect’ adverb. The road trip down south was to be its final act. So why is it important? It was grey as grey can be; a blend of two varieties of grey, dull grey and uninspired grey. If dreariness were a colour… That type of grey. But! At door handle height, on both sides, all the way from front to back, it had Italian flag coloured stripes, like a ribbon. It was the 1990 Italy World Cup edition of the Opel Kadett, and that made driving it a thrill. It had no airco, all windows were open that entire summer, leaving communication impossible. Unpleasant would be an understatement to describe the atmosphere inside the car. But we were happy. No sense of urgency, no responsibility, Mediterranean dreams, a road trip with friends. Just happy.

The 90’s World Cup was the first I have active recollections of. Not of the matches but all the more for it being the first time I collected the famous Panini stickers. My dad bought me the book and, approaching the tournament, he often took me to the book store in Abcoude – where you and I ran that marathon relay several years ago – to buy those little packets with 6 stickers. I recall player names that spoke to my imagination, that spoke of distant, unknown places: Katanec, Taffarel, Lacatus, Butragueño, Protasov, Zenga. And also the kits of the Soviet Union – their last tournament under this name! – and The Netherlands on the stickers. They wore other kits during the games, but on the stickers they still had their 1988 outfits. The Dutch won the ’88 Euros wearing a t-shirt considered horrendous by many, but to me still one of the prettiest. The Soviet team wore the same but in red. Our previous employer, the famous three stripes, did a good job with that one! The image of Marco van Basten, celebrating his goal and the win in the ’88 final, wearing that t-shirt, with the iconic tape on his eyebrow… A classic. Oh and the book also had a spreadsheet with pictures of all the Italian venues where games were to be played, side by side with images of ‘Ciao’, the tournament’s mascot. A Italian tricolore styled stick figure, and one of the most memorable mascots to date.

What’s your first World Cup memory Jack? Did you call it soccer then, or football? Do we agree on calling it football here and now?

The Qatar World Cup is almost upon us, and you and I committed to following it closely, each from our own time zones. Following it apart but together. I drifted away from the big tournaments in recent years. I drifted away from football in general to be honest. I keep an eye on final scores in major leagues, usually on Mondays. As if the weekend is still the main moment for football matches. I still follow the Ajax matches as close as I can, on the balancing rope between my sleeping requirements and time zone differences between East Asia and Europe. But in general, no, I am not the obsessive football adept I used to be. Call me an old soul, a romantic or just plain outdated, but the importance of numbers and data, the ever tv-presence, the calculated tactics, it is just not my cup of tea. I still prefer to settle for a dramatic 5-2 loss in the quarter’s than a close call in the finals’ extra time. Not a single minute of my sleep was wasted on The Netherlands losing the 2010 final in South Africa. They lost my interest several matches before the start of the tournament already.

And now Qatar. A country that practically breathes football history. With a regime that feels like a refreshing change after the Russian edition in 2018. To be played in November because of the relentless weather conditions in August. I recall how you and I played our finest matches during the lunch break, in the adidas office courtyard. The August temperatures, no air circulation whatsoever, and the sun reflecting off the five-stories high glass walls surrounding the pitch, we were playing in a high-pressure cooker. And did we complain?

If this sounds a little cynical, it’s because it is, and because I am confident that you and I often find each other in this type of cynicism. As for our plans in the months to come, I aim to also find where our interests diverge. And when I discover where, to poke around a little more to see what rises to your surface. In the spirit of some of the greatest artists of history, I hope we can write provocative, confusing, truthful, and with a healthy amount of self-mockery. And on that note, and to close off, what are you expecting from all this? Tell me – and the occasional other reader – what you want from ‘Straight Read’?

It’s a rainy early October night in Seoul, I look forward to what’s to come, and I wish you well for now.

Jitse