The first Dutch game has ended, with the Netherlands thrashing Italy 3-0. I saw at least one fan that didn’t make it to game time. I was heading out to meet a friend and there he was, passed out cold, flat on his back on the pavement, in a bright orange shirt. A somewhat less intoxicated friend of his stood watch over his prone body. It was 5:45pm.

The hours went by, and the orange costumes got a little bit crazier. Orange feathers appeared, and even dogs were dressed up to show their Dutch pride. I headed in before the match started, a little nervous for my safety. By 10:45pm, the streets were full of screaming fans, weaving and swerving in their cars and honking their horns. And this is in little Leiden.

Ah, football and the drunkenness it inspires.