It's Gonna Be Spain vs. Holland

I love watching World Cup soccer. When it's exciting, well...then I'm excited. And when it's boring, I have a little nap. Either way, I win! This year's tournament is not as thrilling as 2006, when (in my opinion) there was more style to the play, more dramatic goals, more fights, more jersey-kissing and praying, and...the famous head-butt.

This year, I am not sure which team I prefer. True, the Spaniards are major hotties; but I have a soft spot for the Dutch team, because I know that somewhere out there Willem van Santen is watching them.

When my dad went to the Boy Scout World Jamboree in...1983 or so, I asked him to bring me back some pen-pals, and he did. I exchanged letters with several boys a few times, but the correspondence with Willem stuck. We wrote tons of letters to each other over the next eight years or so. The year that I lived in England, I went to the Netherlands, met him and stayed with his family. After that visit, the letters between us became a little more revealing and emotional. I wondered if we might...what? Have a relationship? It was the same problem I had in my relationship with Simon: how can you know when you can't spend any time together? The Atlantic Ocean is big. And in those days there was no e-mail. When I went to live in Poland, he said he would come to see me there. His letters became warmer than before. I thought that would be the opportunity to see if there was anything there. We made plans to meet, but at the last minute, he wrote to say that he had met a girl and was in a relationship with her. According to him, he was not very serious about her, but she had problems in her life and needed him.

Well, that was that. In the letter, he said that, when the time was right, he knew he would end this relationship because he didn't see it leading to anything permanent.

By the time I get the letter saying that he had left that relationship honorably and wondered if I still had feelings for him, I was back in the USA and had been married to Simon for about three weeks.

I suppose it turned out the way it was supposed to. But Simon has sharp edges; and whenever he hurts me, I think about Willem, who was a much kinder person. Maybe it would not have come to anything, but I wish I had had the chance to know for sure. As it is, the lost potential of that friendship tantalizes me, even 20 years later. I especially wish that we were still in touch. We have both moved numerous times and I don't have a good address for him anymore. There are five Willem van Santens on Facebook, but some of them don't have pictures. I'm too embarrassed to contact each one and ask if he is the right one. He could find me if he looked; since he hasn't contacted me, I guess he does not want to go there.

Of course, he was crazy about football. Every time the Netherlands plays, I think, "Well, Willem, for just a couple of hours, I at least know what you're doing, even if I don't know where you are."