Stillness and Speed: My Story (12 page)

In 1990, at the dawn of Dennis’s decade in an orange shirt, both aspects were visible. During the summer, at the Italy World Cup, a combination of feuding superstars, an unwanted coach and
intransigent suits at the KNVB (the Dutch FA), produced nothing but poison. The team of Van Basten, Gullit, Rijkaard, Koeman, Wouters, Van Breukelen and Van’t Schip – then all at their
peak – couldn’t even beat Egypt and came home in disgrace after falling to the Germans. A few months later, however, the picture changed. Soon after Dennis made his debut as a
substitute in a friendly against Italy in Palermo, player power reared its head again. But this time it worked more productively.

Dennis’s first full match, partnering Marco van Basten in a two-man attack, came in October 1990 against Portugal in a European Championships qualifier. The Dutch, confused by their
coach’s tactics, lost 1-0. The coach in question, holding the job for the third time in his brilliant career, was the great Rinus Michels. In his glory years in the late sixties and early
seventies, he had invented Total Football with Ajax and transferred it to the Dutch national team (or rather he had
co-invented
it with his players, the most important being Johan Cruyff).
Now aged 62 and soon to be named FIFA’s ‘Coach of the Century’, Michels had mellowed and now favoured a variant of the 4-4-2 system in vogue all over Europe. It certainly had its
merits and, under Michels, Holland had won Euro ’88 with it. Having returned to the job after the Italy World Cup fiasco, he was unconvinced by Dennis’s performance against the
Portuguese and decided to replace him for the next game, against Greece, with big former PSV man Wim Kieft, an English-style centre-forward now playing for Bordeaux. Michels had even promised Kieft
his place.

One problem was that the Dutch media didn’t approve of the tactics. Much more importantly, neither did Marco van Basten. During training, whenever a move failed or a pass went astray, the
greatest striker on the planet made a show of shaking his head to demonstrate his contempt for Michels’s plan of attack. Van Basten urged Michels to play the Ajax 4-3-3 using two wingers and
Dennis as number 10. Michels’s nicknames – ‘The Bull’, ‘The General’ – convey the impression that he was no pushover. Indeed, by Dutch standards he was
considered a fearsome disciplinarian. But this being the nation where player power was more or less invented, he was both open to ideas and keen to avoid a damaging clash with his biggest star.
Michels therefore asked his squad which tactic they would prefer. At the Kievit Hotel in Wassenaar, a wealthy suburb of The Hague, a players’ meeting was convened. By Dutch tradition, senior
players tend to influence such gatherings and, as the meeting turned into a clash between Ajax 4-3-3-ers and PSV 4-4-2-ists, Ajax’s former and current club captains Van Basten and Jan Wouters
held sway, the PSV contingent was outnumbered and several young Ajax players even mocked Kieft as a ‘tree trunk’. When the meeting voted to adopt 4-3-3, Kieft stormed out.

In the match that followed, Dennis played well and scored his first international goal (with a header, strangely enough). Holland won 2-0. According to Dennis: ‘That game was important,
both for the team and for me. We chose the Ajax approach and it worked from the start. It was great and really important for my self-confidence. I was in a phase then when I was becoming more of a
determining player, more dominant. Only a short time before, I’d been struggling with feelings of resentment about being constantly in and out of the Ajax team. I solved it myself, by working
extremely hard to improve my form. Yes, that’s possible. You can work your way to form by making sure you stay fit and in a good rhythm, and by going the extra mile, like practising your
shooting after training has finished. And you have to stay positive.’

Dennis’s career in
oranje
had begun in earnest, and he now mingled with established greats, observing Michels at close quarters and playing alongside ‘The Milan
Three’, all still at the height of their powers. Michels tended to delegate training sessions to his protégé, Dick Advocaat. ‘Dick trained us while Michels wandered along
the touchline. Now and then he would walk on to the pitch to speak to a player. His match analyses were interesting and compelling. You listened to him because he was a great personality. Being
selected by Michels was very special. To me, he was an imposing figure, a real presence. I was impressed and had great respect for him.’

Training and playing with Marco van Basten, Ruud Gullit and Frank Rijkaard isn’t bad either. ‘I really enjoyed testing myself against the Milan guys. At first you think: “Wow,
it’s amazing to be on the pitch with players like these.” But after a while it’s more like: “Wait a minute, I can keep up with them and that means I can make giant steps
too.” When that happens, you’re already on your way to playing abroad. At first I shared with Marco, but the lads from Milan soon got their own rooms because that’s what they were
used to at their club. It didn’t bother me, I liked having a room to myself too. When I was seventeen, Marco was already a sensation, but he didn’t act like a star. With the national
team it was like it had been at Ajax. I got along really well with him. He thought of himself as completely normal, you could have a laugh with him, too, and he had a really good, sharp sense of
humour. Even when he became a star at Milan, he didn’t think he was different, but I thought he was pretty special.’

Holland cantered through qualification and by June 1992 Dennis was on his was to his first big tournament, the European Champion ships in Sweden. ‘I wasn’t nervous, there was hardly
any pressure. I was just curious. I thought to myself: “Let’s see what this is all about.” I didn’t feel as if we absolutely had to win, and I wasn’t even sure whether
we were capable of winning. I knew we had a good team with a mix of younger and older players. I was just focused on enjoying myself, learning and gaining experience. I really enjoyed tournaments:
the whole thing, including the tension. It didn’t disturb me. I played five major international tournaments, and I must say I loved all of them. I was always able to focus well, always ate,
drank, rested well, trained regularly. It was all good. I never felt out of place at any tournament.’

His job was different in the national team. At Ajax, Dennis was used to being served by Stefan Pettersson. In
oranje
he was to serve Van Basten. Holland’s first two group games
were disappointing, their attack was sputtering and Marco wasn’t scoring. A goal by Dennis beat Scotland but reviews back home were hostile after the 0-0 draw with the post-Soviet, pre-Russia
team know as CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States). Qualification for the semi-final depended on beating the Germans.

The greatest rivalry in European football was in its most bitter phase. The Dutch had never got over the trauma of losing the 1974 World Cup final. Beating the Germans in the semi-final of Euro
’88 had salved the wound somewhat. But the last time the teams had met – in the World Cup second round match in Milan – the Germans had triumphed once again. Poisonously attached
to such matches were all the complex Dutch feelings about the Nazi invasion and occupation during the Second World War. Now the two best teams in the world – the reigning European and World
Champions – clashed amid the low, wide, orange-dominated spaces of the Ullevi Stadium in Gothenburg. Dennis: ‘It was my biggest game so far. The atmosphere was very charged. The media
attention, the pressure, everything was more intense than anything I had experienced. And the Germans had some great players . . . Kohler, Brehme, Effenberg, Möller, Klinsmann, Riedle . .
.’

Against the old enemy, everything suddenly clicked. The Dutch, playing with passion, focus and precision, blew away their rivals with one of the era’s great international performances. The
Germans appeared prosaic and had no answer to mesmeric Dutch movement, technique and imagination. Total Football seemed reborn in the 3-1 triumph, and Dennis scored Holland’s memorable third,
benefiting from a moment of Van Basten brilliance. As Aron Winter hared up the wing, Van Basten made a lethal-looking run to the near post, yet had the awareness to notice that Bergkamp was better
placed behind. As Van Basten ran he also pointed behind him. ‘I saw Marco pointing and I saw Aron understood his hint. As Marco sprinted to the near post, I automatically rushed to fill the
space he’d created. Nowadays, most teams play with their midfield pointing backwards, precisely to catch the opponent’s most advanced midfielder. But that wasn’t the case then,
and you knew you’d find space in the middle when the centre-forward pulled his marker away with him. Heading wasn’t my specialty, but Aron’s ball had just the right pace and,
because I was moving at speed, all I had to do was touch the ball with my head. It was an amazing feeling.’ It still looks an amazing goal, too. Holland topped the group, but Germany were
second. The two teams would surely meet again in the final. All Holland had to do was beat little Denmark, who were only in the competition by default, the winners of their qualification group,
Yugoslavia, having collapsed into civil war and ceased to exist.

But four days later, the Dutch blew it. In the same stadium in which they had crushed the Germans, Holland played one of their worst games, drawing 2-2, then losing on penalties, Peter
Schmeichel making the final decisive save from Van Basten’s spot-kick. Observers at the time and historians since have attributed the Dutch defeat to arrogance and over-confidence, but Dennis
denies this: ‘We didn’t underestimate Denmark. Not at all. We prepared for the semi-final exactly the same way we did for other games. We were completely focused on our next opponent.
Nobody mentioned the final. Of course we celebrated after beating Germany, and it’s logical that we slowed down a bit after that. But we came on to the pitch for the semi-final fully
motivated and totally concentrated. We were all surprised that we suddenly couldn’t perform at all. None of us knew what was going on. No, it wasn’t hubris.’

Dennis, who scored the first goal of the match, also scored in the shootout: ‘I never suffered from nerves anyway. I liked that pressure of having to take a penalty, of walking to the spot
with the ball under your arm, feeling the tension but not seizing up. You know you’re about to do something you’ve mastered. You’re close to scoring a goal, all you have to do is
execute a well-rehearsed routine.’ Against Schmeichel he shoots to the left, at a saveable height but hard and wide. The side of the net bulges satisfactorily. Things will be different next
time.

G
ETTING TO THE
1994 World Cup finals in the USA would prove much harder than expected. Holland and England, drawn in the same group, were both expected
to qualify comfortably. But little Norway, coached by Egil Olsen, a disciple of the English long-ball theorist Charles Reep, usurped them both. For a while, remarkably, Norway were ranked second in
the world. Holland, now coached by Michels’s former deputy Dick Advocaat, and England, under the hapless Graham Taylor, were condemned to play two epic matches against each other for second
place. Dennis played a decisive role in both games.

The two countries had only recently become rivals. Cruyff’s
totaalvoetbal
side had humiliated Don Revie’s England in 1977, but that was a friendly. More recently, Van Basten
had given the 22-year-old Tony Adams the run-around to score the hat-trick that knocked England out of Euro ’88. Five years later, on a dank night at Wembley in April 1993, England raced to a
two-goal lead but were forced to settle for 2-2 after a Dutch comeback. The turning point of the game was one of Dennis’s most notable goals. In the 35th minute Jan Wouters lofts the ball
towards the ‘D’ on the edge of the England penalty area. Adams gives chase but, with a burst of smooth acceleration, Bergkamp gets there first. ‘It was over my head, thank
you,’ remembers Adams with a grimace. ‘I’m still struggling to get to it even now. And it’s still beating me. He’s taken it
with one touch
and put it the
other way . . .’ His voice trails off. Even by Bergkampian standards it’s remarkable: an immaculately controlled reverse flick-lob that floats implausibly into the far corner while
goalkeeper Chris Woods, rooted to the spot because he was expecting a shot to his near-post, can do no more than stare in wonder.

‘Good thing it was only a friendly, eh?’ says Adams. Sorry, Tony, but it was an incredibly important World Cup match. ‘Oh shit!’ Adams laughs and reflects on the cosmic
injustice of it all: ‘Forwards will always come out on top because they’ve got freedom. Freedom of the park! Nothing to lose! Nobody remembers their misses, but us
workers
at
the back . . . one little mistake and that’s it! They never let you forget it!’ On the Sky commentary, Martin Tyler gropes for a local angle: ‘Bergkamp has stamped his class on
the game! Dennis Bergkamp, named after Denis Law, a disciple of Glenn Hoddle, and he’s bitten the British hand that guided him.’ His colleague Andy Gray puts it more accurately:
‘It’s a fabulous goal.’

The decisive return in Rotterdam six months later has passed into legend as the game England lost because the German referee failed to send off Ronald Koeman in the second half for an obvious
red-card foul on David Platt. Less well remembered is that Karl-Josef Assenmacher also blundered in England’s favour in the first half, wrongly disallowing a Frank Rijkaard goal for offside.
Koeman, minutes after his foul, chipped Holland’s first goal from a free-kick. A few minutes later, Bergkamp skipped past Adams again to administer the
coup de grace
, shooting low
from the edge of the area to beat another future team-mate, David Seaman. Many Englishmen still feel cheated, but Adams generously concedes that the result was fair: ‘We were all over the
place. And in their own backyard. It was too much for us. They were the better team.’

In any event, it would now be Holland’s – and Dennis’s – turn to suffer disappointments, traumas and a sense of being cheated. The build-up, yet again, was dominated by
Cruyff. Would he lead the team in America? In 1990, the players had voted for Cruyff and been rebuffed by the KNVB, who had imposed Leo Beenhakker, the preferred candidate of Rinus Michels. This
time everyone in the country seemed to want Johan: the public, the press, the players, the KNVB. Dick Advocaat said he would be perfectly happy to step aside. Yet somehow the negotiations failed.
The KNVB said they’d reached a verbal agreement with Cruyff to take the job. Cruyff equivocated. Wearing the official KNVB blazer would be a problem because it carried the logo of Lotto and
he preferred to wear his own brand Cruyff-Sports. The KNVB sent Johan offers by fax; Johan never saw them because he didn’t know how to use his fax machine. Negotiations carried on through
third parties. There was haggling over money. Finally, abruptly, the KNVB stopped negotiating. Both sides blamed each other.