Soccer: For most of the world, it's exciting

An estimated 40,000 Dutch soccer fans marched
before their team's game in Houston on Saturday.

        
     For those of you who are temporary soccer fans, meaning while World Cup games play on your television daily …  welcome. 

     Here is what to know: Watching soccer requires patience.   

     You might have observed — say, many years ago — that soccer (which is football in the rest of the world) is not a high-scoring game. A game with, say, three goals is a bonanza. Every now and then, in a mismatch, one team scores seven goals or five. Very much the exception.
     So, welcome, 1-0, or 2-0. Or even — yikes — 0-0.
     Yes, it can be a “slow-paced game.” But think golf, or baseball (especially before the major leagues installed a pitch clock). We don’t much mind the slow pace there.
      But those of us who have been soccer fans for life know that there is more up-and-down the field action than soccer neophytes realize. 
     To see a game in person — this month to see a World Cup game in person — is a heckuva lot better than to watch on TV. To see play over the whole field in context to a television view makes a huge difference.
     And people in the U.S., plus Mexico and Canada, are watching by millions on TV and by tens of thousands in full stadiums. No matter how high the ticket prices. 
     (How high? Seeking tickets for a game in Kansas City this week, the low price we could find — for a seat high in the Chiefs’ stadium — was $638. No, thank you. The game will look OK on TV.)
     FIFA, soccer’s international organization, is raking in millions (billions?).
     Americans are streaming to the games in person. And if you’ve seen the huge fan followings here of so many of the countries involved, there are amazing sounds (songs, dances, drums, pep rallies) in the streets around the stadiums and in the stands.
     Borrowed this from a recent story in USA Today: Soccer has now replaced baseball as the third most popular sport in America, behind football and basketball, according to data analytics firm Ampere Analysis. 
     C’mon. As a baseball fan(atic) since we first saw a game, we are offended (OK, we call offside). It’s still No. 1 here, and soccer always has been 1A. Football and basketball, take a back seat now. (Sorry, it’s an un-American view).
     Of course, in this country, there always will be sceptics. Have a friend, a retired Louisiana sportswriter — let’s call him Ted — who two weeks ago posted on Facebook: “No offense to World Cup fans but I have long held that unless your kid is playing, soccer is boring. This is one notion that should spread across the political spectrum. Agree or disagree?”
     He followed that a few days later with, “Am I supposed to feel guilty because I could care less about the World Cup?”
     No, my friend, enough people care.
     We replied to his original post: “It is boring, especially for boring people. No more boring than listening to blowhard politicians.”
     Another friend, from Louisiana but a longtime Texas resident, said this week, “Watching soccer I am amazed at the athleticism of the players.”
     Yes, with many of these World Cup teams, these are those countries’ best athletes. They can use their feet, and they can use their heads.
     Even the U.S. team now has impressive athletes. Suddenly, after two dominant victories, the Americans are thinking they could go a long way in this World Cup. A championship? Do you believe in miracles? Wouldn’t bet on it.
     One aspect of World Cup play that is acceptable to most of the world but not here is games that end in a tie. There were 14 ties — four in one day — in the first 48 games. (In group play — the first three games for all teams — it’s three points for a victory, one for a tie.)
     Around the world, ties are part of soccer in regular-season league play. In the U.S., we decided decades ago that ties were antiquated in football — high school, college and most-not-all NFL games. The National Hockey League regular-season games, if tied at the end of regulation, requires a brief overtime and then a penalty shootout. Of course, baseball always has had extra innings, basketball overtime, golf a playoff, etc.
     Once this World Cup reaches the final 32 teams stage, ties will be broken — even not in 30 minutes of overtime, then with a penalty-kick shootout. Five shooters to begin with; team that converts the most wins. If it still tied after five shots, keep alternating shots until there is a winner.
     This, we think, is stupid. This is our biggest criticism of soccer.
     It’s like ending a baseball game with a home run-hitting contest, or basketball with a free-throw or 3-point shooting contest, or golf with a long-drive or putting contest. 
     Our idea for soccer in overtime is (1) play on, but take one man off the field every five minutes until someone scores, or (2) even better, do away with the offsides rule, giving offenses a chance for a breakaway. (It’s the offsides rule, in the first place, which makes it so difficult for teams to score.) 
     No one from FIFA has called for our advice. 
     PK shootouts? Yes, consider them a boring finish. But soccer itself is an exciting game … for open minds. Just be patient.

An Oranje weekend

     We had an all-Oranje weekend, and it was a wonderful experience. We marched with the Dutch Army. We (sort of) sang with them. We (sort of) danced with them -- "links, rechts" (translated: left, right).

      We found the now-famous double-decked Orange bus, and climbed aboard. 

      We rooted really hard for the Netherlands' soccer team. Because that's what I've done since I was about 5 years old ... and that's 74 years ago.

      The World Cup of soccer at "Dallas Stadium" -- forgive us, Cowboys -- was a blast.

      It was an all-orange outing. Yes, we wore orange shirts. Some of us also wore orange shorts.

      The Dutch flag is red-white-and-blue -- horizontally -- but the national color is orange because the royal family dates to The House of Orange.

      I have been an American citizen for 66 years; I was 8 when we left Holland late in 1955 as immigrants to the U.S. But I've always loved my original country -- a small but beautiful and progressive place (beautiful in many ways).

      This we've known forever, and it certainly was reaffirmed this weekend: The Netherlands has the greatest sports fans in the world. These people devoutly follow their soccer team (and their speed skaters, and every other sport).

      And they party like no else. They might not win the soccer game -- or the World Cup tournament -- but they are the World Champions of Partying.

--- 

     My World Cup adventure began Saturday afternoon at Fort Worth Central Station. As I arrived for the train ride to Dallas, I saw a man sitting and wearing a bright orange shirt, and holding an orange hat. The shirt had a black KNVB logo (the KNVB is the Dutch soccer organization). 

John and Erica van den Berg

       John van den Berg was headed to Dallas, and his wife Erica soon walked up, wearing the same type shirt but also orange tennis shoes, carrying an orange bag with a "Holland" logo ... and her fingernails were painted orange.

        They live in Abbenes, a village not far from Schiphol, the Amsterdam airport (John was an air freight worker).

      They raised four sons -- "very expensive and hard for Erica," said John -- and have five grandchildren. Now retired, with the kids grown, they have time to travel and following the Dutch national team is what they do.

      They are among the select group that have season tickets to the Dutch games through the KNVB. In a deal cut with FIFA, the international soccer organization (which makes millions), they paid only $60 per game for the World Cup games here. 

       Only $60 (we paid four times that much), and they are prepared to make it to eight games if the Dutch go all the way, including a possible game in Mexico. However far the Dutch team falls short, their ticket costs will be refunded.    

      Their first trip to America, and they were staying in Fort Worth. But they will rent a car and drive to Houston, and then to Kansas City for the Dutch team's second and third Group F qualifiers.

      John estimated some 5,000 Dutch fans have made the trip from Holland to the USA this month. The majority are set to go the distance. Figure that maybe 15,000 Dutch more supporters (many with ties to the country) will join them at this World Cup.

       One recent memory stands out for John; the European qualifying game in Dortmund, Germany, two years ago. "There were 130,000 Dutch fans in town," he said. "It was a little dangerous in the streets. We didn't get into those crowds [and the famed Dutch march]. We took the metro straight to the stadium."

      But they were ready to join the crowd here. And if you've seen the videos on Facebook, etc., and TV, you know that an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 were in the march to the stadium here Sunday. Read on.    

---

      I took the train to EBJ Union Station in downtown Dallas, and Jason picked me up. Coming in, he and the boys had spotted the Orange bus across a nearby highway. It was in a huge parking lot, and we went right there.

          We met some of the owners of the bus; it is a group of 38 people who -- obviously -- are soccer fans ... and like to party. 

      The bus has become a Dutch soccer symbol, the organizing point for the now routine marches at major international (men and women's) games.

       It is stored in Breda, a town in the southern part of the Netherlands. I am familiar with Breda; on a family vacation there in October 1953, it is where I saw a television for the first time. Dad and I went in a restaurant, and on the TV that day was a Holland vs. Belgium soccer match (our biggest rival then). Holland won the game 1-0; it was played in Rotterdam. 

     The ownership group has taken the Orange Bus to 10 major tournament in a couple of decades, including men's World Cups in Germany, South Africa, Qatar and Brazil, and the European Championships every four years.

        Some of that requires shipping the bus by boat, and the group more recently has received sponsorship for those costs. The boat this time was shipped from Holland to Galveston, and then driven to Houston last week. Many of the owners flew from Schiphol to Houston. 

      The journey to Dallas included a stop at Buc-ee's in Madisonville, where as always it had admirers from all over. 

Galina Visser

     Galina Visser, one of the owners with her husband, was a bit awed in her first American visit.

       "People are so friendly and so helpful," she said. "And it's all so huge -- huge cars, huge trucks, huge highways."

       We were allowed to step into the bus, which -- surprise -- has a bar on the lower level and we climbed the narrow stairs to the upper deck (to pose for photos, of course).

       Also met Ben Schalks, 67, a retired hotel

Ben Schalks knows voetbal

 worker who lives in Noordwijk, a scenic spot on the North Sea coast in the South Holland province. He's a talkative, friendly sort who is typically soccer-nuts and is taking in his fifth World Cup. He and I traded details of some of the Dutch team's historic World Cup games.

     He remembered that in Qatar, "the bus only was allowed to go around the stadium, either going left or right" (appropriate for the now Dutch dance craze).

      Observed Ben: "Dutch fans are better at celebrating than our team is at playing voetbal sometimes."

---

      Then, onto the FanFest at the Fair Park area in Dallas (think Texas State Fair). A wide-spread setup, with three huge screens to view the games, an amphitheater setting and a huge berm, and people/fans representing and wearing the colors of so many of the countries.

     The prevalent color this day was Brazil's bright yellow and green. But when Morocco scored first, we realized it, too, had a good share of supporters. Still, it was much louder when Brazil -- always the one of the favorites -- hit the equalizing goal. Both teams' fans danced and chanted throughout the match.

      We met a young man, Joshua Voshurt, only 22, from Mijdrecht, an assistant manager in a restaurant making his first journey to the U.S. He flew from London to Dallas "all on my own" and his impression of this country was "an amazing place."

Daniel Oordt, the orange suit
man  (and march leader)

     Then there was the "orange suit man," Daniel Oordt, 31, an major airline pilot but now known as the leader of the Dutch Army parade at the front of the bus.

      Coming through the crowds, he was stopped repeatedly for handshakes and photos. Just last week he was featured in People magazine. Originally from Leiden, the neat university town near The Hague, he now lives in Tampa, Florida, but he hasn't missed a Dutch international soccer game in 11 years, and wearing his orange suit (orange everything), he's the unofficial head cheerleader.  

      But the day's last stop was the highlight -- the Dutch pep rally. Maybe 500-750 orange-clad fans -- waving orange flags -- dancing, jumping, singing (almost all of it in Dutch), led by two excitable deejays. 

      Almost of the people knew all of the songs, no matter what age, what shape. We'd seen this before; Bea and I were on vacation in Amsterdam (and Zaandam) when Willem-Alexander became the King on April 30, 2013. What a day of celebration that was. But this singing and dancing was much the same. 

     Of course, I was clueless about the songs. (Good chance my mother would have known some.)

     And what I learned quickly was that the "links, rechts" dance number was not for me (although I had practices). Too fast, too much movement for this old not-trim body. Had to be careful to keep from being trampled. Left, right; left, right .. forget it.

---

      So many orange shirts, Dutch soccer teams shirts of all sorts (with the names of many of the great Dutch players), orange flags, the national flag (we brought one) ... all just a reminder that -- as we like to hear -- if you ain't Dutch, you ain't much.

      We met Americans -- with Dutch family backgrounds -- from all over. The young man sitting next to me during the game was from Los Angeles; his grandparents had been immigrants from Rotterdam. Met Dutch people from The Hague, Groningen and Den Bosch and, of course, Amsterdam (all of them are Ajax fans). 

       Met several Dutch natives now living in the Dallas area, and we saw a Facebook video featuring Henk's Deli -- off Northwest Highway in Dallas -- which we've visited often. It was the host for, surprise, a Dutch fans' party.

      Listening to conversations around The Bus and various places near the stadium, I tried to make out what the Dutch people were saying. I can pick up words here and there; sometimes if they speak slowly, I almost can understand what they're saying.

     But I forgot how to speak Dutch a long time ago. Know a lot of words, some small phrases. Putting together a sentence isn't happening. My sister, only 4 when we came to the U.S., knows more Dutch than me.

     Even my parents, still fluent in Dutch, after a few years in America spoke English at home and thought in English. But Dad still perused the Dutch newspapers online. 

       I did realize that at my age I have outlasted many Dutch fans. When I asked some if they knew these names -- Abe Lenstra, Kees Broekman and Wim Van Est (the country's superstar athletes of the early 1950s) -- there was very little recognition. Only Lenstra, our best striker in voetbal for more than a decade, but only because there is a stadium named for him.

     Also found supporters of each of the top three teams in Holland -- reigning PSV (Eindhoven), Feyenoord (Rotterdam) and Ajax (Amsterdam, my favorite team since about 1952). 

---

     Sunday morning began with a nice hard rainfall. Still raining as we drove to the stadium area; we avoided the $60, $80 and $100 parking areas to find a spot on a street a good mile (maybe two) from Globe Life Field.

      So, a good walk past the new baseball stadium to the left-field side of the old baseball stadium (now Choctaw Stadium) where the Orange Bus was parked.

      The music, the dancing and the singing had started, and there were a few hundred people there. They kept coming ... and coming ... and coming.

       Doing the "links, rechts" dance was a bit tedious. Some of us avoided it. 

       By the time the bus began to roll toward "Dallas Stadium," it was estimated that at least 15,000 people were walking (marching). If you've seen the overhead photos or videos, it is an awesome sight.

      We stopped to enter Texas Live, where it was busy with TV screens (and food and drinks) available in multiple spots. Left the grandsons there, with a group that had come with us.     

     Onto the big stadium, not much trouble entering, then a four-escalator ride to the very top row. But still, a great view of the field from the right side beyond one of the goals. You can really see how the game develops from there, and I, for the most part, deliberately watched the field and not the giant TV screen above it.      Quite a thrill to watch the pregame ceremonies. Love Wilhelmus, the Dutch national anthem.

---

     About the game: A slow-paced, deliberate first half. A game of chess on the pitch. Both teams played conservatively, rarely speeding up, few scoring chances. The second half was terrific; both teams attacking frequently, playing to open spaces, and the four goals were met with thunderous reactions.

      The attendance was listed at 69,285 -- short of the capacity (70,649) in the stadium readjusted for soccer. 

     There were large patches of orange-clad fans in the stadium. But there might have been even more blue-shirted Japanese fans. And they were just as enthusiastic as the Dutch, maybe more.

    Seemed to us that the response to the Japanese goals was much louder than when Holland scored.   

    The Japanese rhythmic clapping was impressive; their incessant drum banging and chanting -- they never stopped -- honestly, was annoying. 

     We thought they were chanting Let It Go. But my Dutch/Canadian cousin -- also named Van Thyn -- informed me today that the chant was Vamos Nippon ("Let's Go Japan").

      And the blue bags many Japanese fans were waving, they used at game's end -- a fine tradition -- to pick up stadium trash. They were happy to do it.

     They were happier than the Dutch fans with the game's final 2-2 tie. It was a letdown for us, with Japan scoring the tying goal with about eight minutes remaining. It wasn't a loss, but it didn't feel good.

     It was the first time in the Dutch's World Cup history (some glorious, far too much heartbreak) that we gave up the lead twice in a game. We have been a world power program since 1974 (so, 52 years).

     It makes this Saturday's game with Sweden -- in Houston -- an almost "must-win" outing if we hope to advance out of Group F to the final 32.

     So as the Japanese picked up trash, many Dutch fans were headed back to party some more.

---

     Personally, our weekend was a gift from our son. Yes, a birthday/Father's Day present, and maybe payback for the 11 years Beatrice and I followed him through his soccer-playing days.

    Thought of how much Bea would have supported us, and thought of my Dad, who took me to my first games in Amsterdam in the early 1950s.

     In 1994, Dad and I saw the Dutch play two World Cup games in Orlando (a loss and a victory); the first game his seat was right behind the Netherlands' bench. He loved it. He was 75 then, younger than I am now.

      So this was a family experience again. But in a greater sense, it was also my Dutch family. Proud to be an American, but love my Dutch heritage. 

     I always will be an Oranje fan, and winning the World Cup would be a dream come true. Short of that, where's the party? Links or rechts.  

Here we are on the bus:
 One old fat guy, with grandsons
 Jacob and Kaden, son
 Jason, and friend Drew Stewart.

  A video:

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1MFuaegxUL/ 

   

      

The Holocaust museum in Amsterdam (at long last)

      

      On Sunday, the new Netherlands National Holocaust Museum will be dedicated in Amsterdam.

      (On the front of the building the sign says Nationaal Holocaust Museum ... that's the Dutch spelling of national).

       Anyway -- to use a favorite (borrowed) expression: What took them so long?

       It has been 82-plus years since the abuse, degradation and eventual deportation/deaths of Dutch Jews at the Nazi concentration camps began.

       There are several buildings and memorials to honor Holocaust prisoners and victims in Amsterdam; we have visited them on our three trips back to the old country, and we've written about them.

        But never has there been an actual Holocaust museum -- like many around the world, including those in Washington, D.C. and Dallas, for example -- in the Netherlands.

        Until now, thank goodness.

        We thank a friend at Trinity Terrace -- our seniors residency in Fort Worth -- for alerting us to The New York Times story about the museum (see link at the bottom of this blog). It was news to us. 

        If you know and understand our family's Holocaust history, you know that we think it is important.

        And it is important enough in Holland that today the Dutch king, Willem-Alexander, will attend the museum ceremony.

        (He will do so alongside the president of Israel, and with today's fragile Middle East situation, some 200 mosques -- Palestinian supporters -- and even a protesting Jewish organization or two suggested/demanded that Willem-Alexander not attend. His reply: I will be there.)

        Not coincidentally, we -- Beatrice and I -- were in Amsterdam the day (April 30, 2013) that Willem-Alexander became the first king of the Netherlands in more than 100 years.

       That was just a few days after we visited -- or re-visited -- four sites in the Jewish Quarter in Amsterdam: the Hollandsche Schouwburg,  the Joods Historisch Museum, the Portuguese Synagogue, and the Auschwitz memorial. 

    Here is a link to the blog piece I wrote then: https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-place-for-memories-and-tears.html

     Plenty of Holocaust history at those places, and we appreciated the sights.

     The new museum will tell -- as an Associated Press story this week noted -- the story "in video footage, photos, scale models and mementos, of Dutch victims of the Holocaust."

      As you also might know, my mother (Rose Van Thyn) spoke and wrote about her and our family's Holocaust experiences for many years. Will some of her material (photos, videos, articles, letters) be included in this Holocaust museum?

     Answer: We have no idea. Certainly no indication of that.

      My sister -- Elsa Van Thyn -- said in a note: "Guess the museum will feature Mama's statements about how the Dutch weren't the best for the Jews." 

      Don't know.

      But what we do know is that -- whether our family, especially those who lost their lives in the World War II years -- is directly acknowledged at the museum or not, the opening of this facility is a great thing.

       We cannot forget our people.

       And we are grateful for those who remember, and -- with this museum -- honor their memory.

---

      Here are links to information about the museum:

       -- Nationaal Holocaustmuseum  Museum/nl\ 

       -- https://www.yahoo.com/news/holocaust-museum-amsterdam-aims-tell-063005778.html?fr=sycsrp_catchall

     -- https://apnews.com/article/netherlands-holocaust-museum-antisemitism-4b7f1e725bb014283c57381425001aee

   -- With a New Holocaust Museum, the Netherlands Faces Its Past 

   

Hannie Urbanus: Holland's baseball superstar

   

Spring training, New York Giants, 1952:
Dutch superstar pitcher Hannie Urbanus
and Giants manager Leo Durocher.

     Hannie Urbanus died Friday in The Netherlands at age 93. This is stunning to me because I thought he long ago had left us.

     He was my first baseball hero. 

     In fact, he was the only baseball player I knew of until we came to the United States in early 1956.

     Of course, that name will be foreign to you ... unless you are -- or were -- Dutch, and only then if you were a sports fan, or more specifically a honkbal fan. That's the Dutch word for baseball.

     Hannie Urbanus was the superstar of the sport in our home country, a right-handed pitcher for the OVVO team in Amsterdam. They were the Dutch  Yankees, the perennial 1950s champions.

      He was good enough to warrant a month-long spring-training stay with the 1952 New York Giants, the reigning National League champions. It was more of an exhibition appearance rather than a tryout. When he returned to Holland, he resumed leading his team to championships and as the No. 1 pitcher for the national team.

      Baseball was far from a major sport in The Netherlands in the late 1940s and early 1950s when we lived there. Soccer (voetbal) was the  sport most people cared about, although other sports that were popular included cycling, swimming, speed skating, basketball, track and field, field hockey, and an odd mixed-gender sport called korfbal -- a derivative of basketball, without dribbling --  in which Holland was the world's best. 

      Here is how I learned about Hannie Urbanus and baseball:      

    In 1955 (the year before we left), the Blue Band margarine company in Holland sponsored a series of small publications -- 10 books in all -- titled 40 Sporten en Spelen in Woord en Beeld (40 Sports and Games in Words and Images). 

      Here was history, highlights, photos, rules of all these sports. It was great for a kid who was absorbed in it all and loved to read. Soccer was the main emphasis, of course, and there were only two relatively small sections on honkbal/baseball. 

      Still didn't understand the game much because we'd never seen it played, even though home base for Hannie Urbanus and his OVVO team was in Amsterdam.

       To collect the books, and the paste-in photos, I suppose, we had to buy lots and lots of Blue Band margarine. And we did.

       Those books, bound together in a neat folder, came with us to the U.S., and they're right here -- barely holding together; they're fragile  -- on a shelf to my left as I type this.

       And here was Hannie Urbanus' photo from that book (which also is online now). 

      Seeing notice of his death today sent me on a Google search for Hannie Urbanus. Here, from www.knbsb.nl, is the headline on the best story -- really his life's story -- that I found: 

        honkbal icoon, heuvel legende, en hall of famer han urbanus overleden 

        Translated: Baseball icon, hill legend and Hall of Famer Han Urbanus passed away 

---

     Here is the first portion of that story:

IN MEMORIAM ... Han Urbanus ... (1927 - 2021) ... (© Photo: Marco Stoovelaar) Han Urbanus , who played in the Dutch big league in four decades, pitched eleven no-hitters and played for the National Team for 17 years, passed away on Friday (February 5) at the age of 93. With the Netherlands National Baseball Team , Han Urbanus won seven consecutive European titles. Urbanus also participated in Major League spring training with New York Giants, was a member of the Dutch Hall of Fame, and was a living legend and Dutch baseball icon.

     Consider some of his feats: 

     -- Eleven no-hitter, from 1954 through 1961  (take that, Nolan Ryan). That included nine for OVVO and a couple in the rivalry national-team games with neighbor Belgium. Twice (1954, 1956) he pitched two no-hitters in one season.

     -- He was selected the Dutch major league's "Best Pitcher" five times (1953-55, 1957-58), and set a league record for strikeouts (213) in 1955, a record that stood until 1980. He was the league MVP three times (1954-55, 1961).

     -- He also played second base and shortstop at times for OVVO and the national team, and was a solid hitter with home-run power. In 1959, he was the league's Best Hitter with a .348 average.

      -- He played in 64 international games, a record at the time of his retirement. 

      He played in the highest division for four decades (1947-70) and his 24 seasons was a long-standing record.

... On the left a unique playing card with the portrait of Han Urbanus ... ... On the right a caricature made by the famous draftsman ... ... Dik Bruijnesteijn, which was used in newspapers ...

     

---

     In 1952, at age 24, he received a unique invitation -- the first European player to take part in one of America's major-league spring training camps. It was the Giants' camp in Phoenix that included BobbyThomson (whose famous pennant-winning home run was the previous October), Wes Westrum, Alvin Dark, Sal Maglie, Monte Irvin, Hoyt Wilhem, Jim Hearn, Larry Jansen ... and a young Willie Mays.

    The manager was Leo "The Lip" Durocher. Frank Shellenback was the pitching coach.

      From the story:  

 A year earlier, Urbanus had been interviewed by Albert Balink, the publisher and editor of 'The Knickerbocker,'  a Dutch/American magazine for Dutch immigrants in America. It was Balink who arranged the trip to promote and stimulate baseball in Europe. 

      When Urbanus received the invitation in February, he worked as an assistant accountant at an Amsterdam office. His employer immediately gave him the opportunity to travel to America. ... In an interview in Het Parool at the time, Urbanus said: "I just wonder if I will be able to keep up with the level. And if they ask to remain as a professional, I refuse firmly.'' He was described as 'a calm and jovial man of 24 years old.' "

... Han Urbanus receives instructions from ... ... New York Giants Pitching Coach ... ... Frank Shellenback ...

    When Urbanus returned a month later on March 15, he brought back an instructional video and in the weeks and months that followed he traveled across the country to lecture on pitching, what he had learned and what it's like to participate in a professional training camp. All these lectures were organized by clubs or the union in canteens or rented halls that were packed with many baseball enthusiasts. In an article in the Algemeen Dagblad, Urbanus said: “To my great surprise, I have experienced that in America people throw completely differently. Besides, I learned that the pitchers are completely focused on pitching and not hitting themselves. '' Urbanus also wrote many articles about pitching and the correct way to throw a ball in Baseball News.

---

    And then there was the Urbanus tie-in to Texas. 

    His grandson Nick Urbanus, who was a star in the Dutch leagues playing for the Amsterdam Pirates, signed with the Texas Rangers' organization in 2011 and was a middle infielder in the rookie leagues and Class A for four seasons.  But he never hit much here, and returned to play in Holland.

      Throughout his life, Hannie was a constant -- and revered -- presence at any baseball gathering of note in The Netherlands, and also in Europe. He remained visible almost to the end, always the ambassador for the game.

       And always a Dutch hero, including one baseball fan in Fort Worth. Hannie preceded even Mickey Mantle.

"The rest of the story" on a boxing/Auschwitz hero

     Facebook Messenger note, APR 27, 2020, 8:24 PM:
     "My name is Joe Sanders. I am the son of Leen Sanders. I just read an article that you wrote about my father and his actions as a prisoner in Auschwitz. Things I was never aware of. I am not much of a reader, but I really enjoyed reading your story about my father.
      "Thank you so much.
      Joe Sanders"
---     
     Life, as it does, has presented challenges for Joe Sanders. 
     Being the child of a Holocaust survivor (or survivors) is different. Hard to capsulize in one sentence or paragraph.
     Joe experienced it -- as many have, me and my younger sister included -- so he knows, as we know.
     To hear from Joe, some 6 1/2 years since I first wrote about Leen Sanders was quite a surprise. Never realized that Leen had a "second family" because -- to be honest -- I did not research much of his post-World War II life for that blog piece.
     That was published January 25, 2014, as part 15 of the series on my father's "story" and subsequently became Chapter 16 of the 2017 book on my parents and family.
     I described Leen as one of Dad's heroes. The details are in the blog piece (if you care to read it again):https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-boxer-leen-sanders-my-dads-hero.html
     Look, many people who knew Louis Van Thyn knew him as a hero, too -- and still do. But he wasn't a national hero.  Leen Sanders was.

Leen Sanders, in 1985
(photo from Rotterdam Jewish Heritage)

     He was a star, a Dutch boxing champion through the 1920 and '30s, and a behind-the-scenes champion at Auschwitz who through sacrifice, selflessness and -- honestly, some thiefery -- made miserable existences a bit better for fellow prisoners.
     This blog will be about "the rest of the story," his final 4 1/2 decades. Much of the information below was supplied by Joe Sanders, and some of it is from a November 1985 "Rotterdam Jewish Heritage" webpage article available online.
     There was much glory and much travail in Leen Sanders' life.
---
     When contacted by Joe Sanders, it was reminiscent of a follow-up of another blog piece involving another chapter of Dad's story. Jacqueline Frankenhuis, daughter of one of the three men with Dad in the Russian Army-uniform photo, sent a note 2 1/2 years after my original piece (in July 2014) and we subsequently did a Skype session that led to a blog about Jack Frankenhuis' post-WW II life in Amsterdam.
      So now more correspondence with Joe, and the follow-up on Leen Sanders and his second wife, Joe's mother ... 
     In the Nazis' destruction, the murdered included Leen's firrst wife and two sons (ages 10 and 8) -- all killed not long after arriving at Auschwitz -- plus seven of his siblings (including the older brother (Bram) he had followed into boxing.
     And before that even, when the Nazis bombed Rotterdam -- where Sanders' family lived -- their house was destroyed and everything -- medals, cups, scrapbooks included -- burned. 
     So emptiness on his return to Rotterdam after survival of Auschwitz and a "death march." But soon -- like my parents in Amsterdam -- a new start.
      Leen married a friend of one of his deceased sisters, Henriette van Creveld, on July 4, 1946. (The sister's name was Rosette -- same name as our mother, slightly different spelling).

Jetty and Leen Sanders greeting his former sparring
 partner, Rinus Krijger, on a 1975 visit to Rotterdam.
(photo from boksen.nl)

     Joe and "Jetty" were together nearly 47 years -- nomadic in a way, with much happiness and much sadness, bitterness mixed in, with U.S. citizenship and then a return "home." 
       The journey, from 1946: A brief time in Rotterdam; a move to Aruba, a Dutch-influenced island in the Caribbean Sea; a move to the United States -- the Los Angeles area (first in Culver City, then Canoga Park) for 31 years; and finally a return for the final decades in Rotterdam.  
     Leen died at age 83 in April 1992. Henriette outlived him by almost 22 years; she died in January 2014 at age 101. 
     Joe was born in Aruba in 1949. But he eventually became a California surfer dude.
     And here is a we-can-identify start: tension, some anger, in the home, no love -- at all -- for the Nazis and Germany. 
     "I think the best place to start is what it was like growing up with my parents," Joe wrote. "As a child I was curious about the war and how it was for them." (Henriette was hidden during the war, and survived it.) 
     "Both my parents were willing to tell me, but after a few years I realized it caused a lot of tensions between my parents. They would become angry thinking about the horrible things the Germans did to them and their families."
     There is a reason that Joe describes his father as "a pressure cooker." There were times when the old boxing champion's aggressive nature surfaced.
     "They would say things to each other," Joe related, "and before they knew it, a violent argument ensued. So I knew some facts, but not all.
     "They never hit each other, but the yelling and screaming at each other was horrible for me to witness. They would cool off and make amends to each other and that is the way it was until [I was] in high school.
     "I was now bigger and quicker than my father and I told him not to take his anger out on my mom any more. Although things cooled down in the house, the rage in my father's head stayed with him until the day he died." 
     But, Joe added, "Life was not always like that. There were plenty of good times." More on that in a moment.
---
     After liberation from Auschwitz, at age 38, Leen boxed two more bouts -- and won -- against the same opponent. The war had taken its toll, and he knew it was time to retire as a boxer. 
     With a new life and a new wife, he also needed a new career in a new place.
     The bad memories in Rotterdam haunted him, just as they haunted my mother in Amsterdam. Especially how hard he had tried to save his wife and two boys.
     As a Dutch soldier, the Nazis had taken him as a POW (same as my Dad), but he escaped and found his wife and kids hiding in a barn. 
     For two years -- as the Nazis began their cruely campaign against Jewish people -- Leen did subterfuge resistance work, distributing illegal magazines and stolen identify documents to help fellow Jews. Then in August 1942, he and his family went into hiding, only to be discovered four months later ... and the Nazis sent them to the camps.
     Three years later, he could tell people that "I really owe my life to a Polish kapo (prisoner guard) who gave me extra food in exchange for boxing lessons."
     But no Selly, Josua ("Joopie") or David. Only their memory, and his sorrow, and a place that no longer felt like home.
     Henriette was the new life, Aruba the new place, boxing trainer the new job. And "he wanted to try a second time in having a family," Joe said.
     The job fizzled, so Leen opened a bar in the town of St. Nicholaas. Then in 1954, when Joe was 4, their application for immigration to the U.S. was accepted.
     In 1959 (Oct. 9), they became U.S. citizens. My family  can identify with that big step. 
     In Los Angeles, Joe noted, "My mom and dad did whatever kind of work they could get to support themselves."
     Leen was a truck driver, then had a government job as a cleaner in schools, which led to his one-man cleaning company during the 1960s.
      "I was an only child, so I was as close as I could be with my parents," Joe wrote. "They always seemed to be working. So I was a latch-key kid."
     His old sport was now a distant memory for Leen. "He never got back into boxing," Joe recalled, "other than to teach me. Although we would watch an occasional match, he did not appreciate the fighting styles he saw. It was more fighting than boxing."
     (Boxing encyclopedias refer to Sanders as a defense-minded, punching stylist, willing to outwit and outpoint his opponent, rather than slug with him. So his "old school" form didn't jive with many of the 1960s fighters he observed.)  
     Joe wasn't interested. "I had developed a passion for surfing," he said -- in Southern California, remember -- "and had no passion for boxing. He thought I was a beach bum. But when I pointed out how his parents disapproved of his boxing, he was a lot more understanding."
      After leaving Rotterdam in 1946, Leen had made only one return trip in 1952. The next visit was 19 years later. But in the 1970s, it became a trend; they made several trips back to see what family and friends remained there.
      And Rotterdam -- a city bombed to shreds by the Nazis in 1940 and totally rebuilt and modernized, one great Dutch success story -- began to grow on them again.
      Leen, in the 1985 Rotterdams Niewsblad interview,
explained that he liked talking to people anywhere and everywhere, "and that was difficult in Los Angeles because you hardly see people on the street there. Besides, my wife and I grew older and we couldn't take the heat so well in the summer. ..."
      So, in 1978, they packed it all up and went back to live in Rotterdam -- The Netherlands' major port city.
       "I am glad I came," Leen said in the '85 interview. "I was born here and I still have many acquaintances in Rotterdam."
       Joe, now totally Americanized, surf-crazy, and with a family, remained in California. He made three trips to visit the folks in Holland, and Leen and Jetty made a return visit or two to Los Angeles. 
      Joe went through a variety of jobs, and one he liked and stuck with was as a micro photographer/artwork cutter.
      "The flexibility of the job worked great with my passion for surfing," he wrote. "Surfing has been a major part of my life. My closest friends that I've gotten to know are from surfing. It is how I met my wife (Diane), who was also a surfer."
      But the business faded, and later work included carpentry. And in June 2006, his wife was diagnosed with cancer. Joe and their two sons watched her decline over 3 1/2 years; he quit work at the start of 2009 to care for her. She died in mid-December 2009 at age 58 1/2.
       Joe: "It was devastating, very depressing ... life was nerve-wracking."
      But he drew inspiration from a familiar source: "There was Dad. Although he had passed away ... he showed me the way. If he was able to survive the things he went through, so could I."
       And there was Jetty, in Holland. "My mother was always on the nervous side, so Diane and I kept her condition from my mom. I was always lying to my mom. She wanted to know why we wouldn't fly to Holland and visit."
      Life, he admits, "was a series of extreme highs and extreme lows. Surfing during the day lifted my spirits to euphoric highs. Being home alone at night was so depressing."
      Ten months after Diane's death, he attended a Breast Cancer Awareness fund-raiser, and he met a girl.
       She soon became his girlfriend -- it's been a decade -- "and I feel so lucky to have her in my life now."
       His and Diane's oldest son served as a U.S. Marine in Iraq and is now a computer tech. The younger son is a structural engineer, working at University of California-San Diego in the testing lab.
      The grandsons of boxing/Auschwitz hero Leen Sanders.

photo from eubcboxing.org

      And the man is not forgotten in The Netherlands. A little more than two years ago -- May 4, 2018, the day of a national sports commemoration in Amsterdam -- the president of the Dutch Boxing Association placed a garland of flowers in Sanders' honor near a statue outside the historic 1928 Olympic Stadium.
      In the 1985 interview, Leen said, "We have a beautiful flat in Bijdorp, and we hope to have a few more pleasant years."
     And they did. They had long, memorable journeys.
     "I love both my parents," Joe summed up. "They were not well educated, but they taught me a lot. To think about what they had to live through, they did very well for themselves and me."