Column | To watch or not to watch?

It has become an inescapable question, a way to taste each other’s moral kidneys as soon as the World Cup in Qatar comes up: to watch or not to watch? GroenLinks leader Jesse Klaver came close to the most hypocritical answer: he would not look in the cafe, but possibly at home.

The appeal not to look is getting louder and louder. After every damning report in the newspaper or on TV about the violations of human rights in Qatar, the pressure on the potential viewer increases. Isn’t it time to lead by example? To show that there is more to the world than 22 ridiculously rich men kicking a ball for the sake of national pride?

“Don’t go and don’t look,” said ChristenUnie leader Gert-Jan Segers. In that case, a Dutch political delegation plus King Willem-Alexander would stay at home, at home where everyone during the final Netherlands-Germany (I almost wrote West Germany) will be grumpy to a repeat of All of Holland Bakt must look.

I envy the people who wrestle with their conscience and convincingly bring their torment into the limelight. I myself belong to the bastards who have no hesitation and already no longer want to make appointments on match days of the Dutch national team. How could I sink so deep?

I shouldn’t make the answer more complicated than it is: because I love football. It is a beautiful, difficult, exciting sport, unless played too defensively. But there must be something at stake, matches of friendly football are annoying. At such a World Cup it is decided who can call themselves the best in the world for the time being, and who wouldn’t want to be that, or at least want to be part of it for a while? In the Netherlands we still honor Johan Cruijff because he was the best football player in the world for a while.

Anyone who loves something – be it human, animal or thing – is capable of the strangest inconsistencies. As sports editor of de Volkskrant I went to Argentina in the spring of 1978 for the Hockey World Cup. I wrote, as was also agreed, mainly about the horrible political situation there, the hockey functioned more as a cover.

I heard about people being tortured and killed, I spoke to terrified people from the Jewish community and artists. When I got back, Ben de Graaf, chief of the sports editors, asked: “Do you want to go to the World Cup in Argentina now too?” It would be played a few months later, the intention was that I would also write a lot about football. ‘Never mind’, I said, ‘it is terrible there, that tournament should not be allowed to take place.’

And what happened? So I stayed at home for a good, principled reason: no World Cup in a country where people are being liquidated for political reasons. Then that filthy World Cup started. I couldn’t resist the temptation, turned on the TV and fully enjoyed a tournament where the Netherlands, without Cruijff, of course, took it much further than expected: the final.

When I look back on that period now, I still see the faces of all those frightened people. But also the legendary ball on the post of Rob Rensenbrink, which prevented the Netherlands from becoming world champion. Maybe I should be ashamed, but I don’t. Maybe I shouldn’t watch the World Cup in Qatar, but I will.