The sun is slowly rising as I drive into a remote parking spot at a fast food chain along the A15 highway. I have to report to a white truck with a Polish license plate, to pick up an envelope with valuable contents from the driver instructed by his boss. In exchange, I carry an envelope with me with an amount of money that you can use to go out for a nice meal together.
Actually, I should have parked here in the middle of the night, but that was a bit too much for me in this remote place, where you can easily make someone disappear in a trunk. I therefore gratefully made use of plan B, which resulted in an early alarm, a quick shower and a significant shortage of coffee, as I noticed after an hour and a half of driving.
Driving at a walking pace, I scan the immense and almost deserted terrain. As a result, I quickly see the truck. In line with the truck, I suddenly notice two dark SUVs, next to which four men look up as I approach. I wonder what they are doing here at this ridiculously early time, but don’t make eye contact. I park my car right next to the truck as if that is the most normal thing in the world at this hour.
There is no friendly welcome committee. The cabin curtains are closed. The driver is still sleeping. Not surprising. He parked here a few hours earlier. I gently knock on the door with my knuckles to make my presence known when he doesn’t respond to my text. The curtains remain unmoved.
Shit! What now? Hit the door harder? Or an attempt on the rider’s side? Attempt two brings success. A window slides down very slowly, after which two dark eyes scan me. We know of each other’s existence, but neither have any idea what the other looks like. It feels a bit crazy.
Alberto Stegeman and Kees van der Spek are not far away emotionally. Little do they know that this is not a case of illegal human trafficking, but rather a wonderfully nostalgic football exchange.
I have been collecting old Ajax tickets since I was 12. After 34 years of searching, I am still missing 21 tickets from the 455 official European Cup matches that our club has played since 1957. One card ended up in my collection more easily than the other, but that is also the best. There is a story behind every entrance ticket. Sometimes several. Definitely from the competition, but also because of an anecdote from the former owner.
This morning I have a flashback to an equally ridiculously early time at Schiphol, where a few years ago I was waiting for someone from the Dutch embassy in Buenos Aires. He had in his pocket the ticket for Ajax’s 1972 World Cup match against Independiente. It came from an Argentinian whose father worked at the Argentinian club. Finding such a ticket is step one. Then it’s all about physically getting the ticket into your hands without the risk of loss, disappearance or damage by post.
That’s why I’m standing opposite Rafal and his colleague this Monday morning, an equally sleepy Eastern blocker with a hoodie. The setting not only feels crazy, but also somewhat shadowy. You wonder what the four men near the SUVs think of us. Or else the people who watch the images from the striking number of cameras that surround this area.
A transaction of no more than five minutes, between three adult men who do not speak each other’s language in an almost deserted location, at a suspiciously early time. Alberto Stegeman and Kees van der Spek are not far away emotionally. Little do they know that this is not a case of illegal human trafficking, but rather a wonderfully nostalgic football exchange.
When I open the envelope handed to me, I am pleased by the affirming contents. Happy with a dirty piece of paper measuring barely four by six centimeters. One of only 21 missing needles from my haystack of missing European Cup tickets. It concerns the match Ruch Chorzow – Ajax, from 1969. Result: 1-2, thanks to Gerrie Mühren and Dick van Dijk. Ajax previously won 7-0 at home.
Together with my Polish counterpart, Lukasz and I belong to a small European group of physical match ticket collectors who are trying to survive in the digital age of e-tickets.
A match in the European Trade Fair Cities Cupreports the yellowed piece of paper. In the second round of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup. Finished behind the Iron Curtain in front of 9,400 spectators, with no supporters from Amsterdam apart from club directors who traveled along. Unbelievable, if you know that there will be 1024 Ajax players in the away section in Prague on Thursday.
When I show the card to my curious new Eastern Bloc friends, they look as if they see water burning. After a minute of mutual Polish babble, it becomes clear to the two that it is a football card. They have no idea of the gold they were transporting! Just as quickly as we met, the meeting is over. As proof of the transaction, I take a photo for their boss, Lukasz, who gave me this piece of Ajax history.
There is no exciting anecdote attached to the card. Lukasz acquired it in 2019 from another collector, who collected everything from Ruch Chorzow. Together with my Polish counterpart, Lukasz and I belong to a small European group of physical match ticket collectors who are trying to survive in the digital age of e-tickets. Funnily enough, it is precisely that digital world that helps us to keep collecting, because there is always something to find for each other.
Not much later I drive to the editorial office for the morning meeting and wonder what the two Poles themselves were actually transporting. Remarkably, their rear hatch was open all night, as I noticed after a curious inspection tour upon arrival. The truck was empty, but the trailer stank in the wind for an hour. I let go of my reverie and look to the right like a happy egg.
Their most precious cargo is on the passenger seat.
Very happy with this new gem in the collection @OldAjaxTickets: Ruch Chorzow-Ajax, November 26, 1969. Inter-Cities Fairs Cup. Spectators: 9,400 #ajax pic.twitter.com/AXRXzGD5fg
— Ajax European Tickets Collection (@OldAjaxTickets) September 30, 2024
