Maurits Hendriks called me. If I had Khalid’s number. He was looking for a lawyer who has some time in the coming months. Why? Because Maurits, now that he has been put on a losers’ flight home by Ajax, wants to have a number of things properly arranged.
For example, he does not want the people of Amsterdam to later say that the press release distributed this week was just lame bullshit for the stage. That in a while they won’t tell you that the feathers that he gets in that rag in his hockey hole were supplied by him himself. He also doesn’t want to read anywhere that there was a sigh of relief from both the F-side and the wealthy skyboxes when they heard that he was finally quitting.
What does he want to read? That all departments within the Johan Cruijff Arena were sad. Especially the ladies because as director he always neatly kept his pants on. He would also like it if Ajax soon distributed some photos of a mile-long line at his farewell reception. And it does not need to be known that only tap water was served because the club treasury is empty. The 120 million he let evaporate does not need to be mentioned at that party. This was also at the request of a number of bobos who walk around there and know that they are equally guilty.
And he doesn’t want the title either Chief Sports Officer is ridiculed in the speeches. That all kinds of amateur comedians don’t make fun of this and say that every incompetent idiot within an organization is now called our ‘Chief Sports Officer’.
He also asked if I knew of any job opportunities for him. I said that Sophie Hilbrand is looking for a presentation buddy at VARA because her previous companion suddenly left. Furthermore, the Belgian FC Antwerp has a temporary vacancy for a director and in Suriname they are looking for someone who can keep an eye on Desi. I also advised him to call Rutte. Everyone really wants to get away from there. And they no longer talk about job requirements there. They never actually talked about that.
Finally, he asked if I wanted to keep our phone conversation a bit of a secret. I said I would try that, but of course if I get hacked one day I can’t do anything about it.
He didn’t understand that. I explained that in the future someone might snoop on my computer and this conversation might surface.
“You didn’t record this, did you?” he asked anxiously.
“Of course,” I laughed.
“How so?”
“That was the first thing Peter R. de Vries ever taught me. Record everything. Make sure you have a few good cover-ups and a thick carpet that doesn’t bulge too easily. And a smart son to clear the mess in time. That’s right.”
I heard complete surprise and repeated: “I’m recording everything. Even the weekly arguments with my wife.”
Maurits became furious and asked where I got the courage to…
I interrupted him and told him that as a columnist for a quality newspaper I have to be on my guard. Especially when football scum calls. That is an immoral world full of corrupt board members, greedy agents, lying trainers, bluffing scouts and financial advisors with close ties to freeloaders in the Virgin Islands and Dubai. And that they have no problem with dictatorial states like Qatar and creepy minds like Infantino. Types who think you can play football at 40 degrees Celsius. Did the name Mislintat mean anything to him?
Instantly I heard him say that I should see him as a consultant who has done a fantastic job at Ajax. That he had been brought in there by a renowned member of the Supervisory Board. And he only called for Khalid’s number.
I gave it to him.
Then he asked if I thought Khalid was expensive?
“I have no idea,” I said, “but it has to be in cash!”