K ARUMUGAM

Some hockey rivalries are bigger than a match. They become memories, moments that stay somewhere deep inside you and return unexpectedly when history decides to repeat itself. The Dutch–Leonas rivalry is one such rivalry for me.

When Argentina defeated the Netherlands in the World Cup final in Amsterdam, winning the shoot-out after a 1-1 draw, I was immediately taken back to Perth, 2002. Twenty-four years ago, I had witnessed almost exactly the same script — Argentina and the Netherlands finishing the World Cup final at 1-1 before Las Leonas prevailed in the shoot-out, 4-3, to win their first-ever World Cup.

What happened in Perth then was played out once again in Amsterdam.

The setting was different, of course. The crowd at Amsterdam may not have been as overwhelming as one might have expected from a home World Cup final, but the enthusiasm around the turf was unmistakable. The Netherlands and Argentina produced the sort of hockey that makes this rivalry so special — competitive, skillful and fiercely contested.

Yet, after all that effort, neither could produce the outright winner. The scoreboard once again read 1-1.

Then came the shoot-out.

And once again, it was Argentina who celebrated.

For me, however, the most beautiful part of the Argentine victory was not even the trophy presentation. It was what followed.

There are few teams in world sport that celebrate quite like the Argentine women. They celebrate with their entire being. Players hugged players. Players hugged officials. One embrace continued, then another player arrived, and the circle became bigger. Nobody seemed to be left out.

It was spontaneous, emotional and almost impossible to describe.

I remember watching something similar in Perth. I had travelled all the way to Australia in December 2002 to watch the Women’s World Cup — my first Women’s World Cup. India had not qualified, but that did not stop me. I went anyway. My only interest of course was to meet hockey buff Stan Salaazar, who has painstakingly collected a vast treasure of hockey literature. Anther interest was to witness FIH Annual Awards which was only on its second year.

Looking back, every dollar I spent on that journey became worth it on that particular day.

Paisa vasool.

Argentina had won their first World Cup, and the celebrations seemed to go on forever. The legendary Luciana Aymar was among those leading the celebrations, and the entire crowd seemed to become part of the Argentine party.  Other stars include Soledad Garcia, Cecilia Rogononi and others.

Even after the trophy was presented by IOC President Jacques Rogge, in the presence of then-FIH President Els van Breda Vriesman, the emotions continued.

That is what I missed a little in Amsterdam.

Perhaps the television cameras did not capture everything. Perhaps they showed only a part of what happened after Argentina’s triumph. But from what I saw, the celebration seemed shorter than that unforgettable Perth extravaganza.

And I say this without hesitation: no team, I will not mind repeating, celebrates a victory quite like the Argentines.

Their celebration is not merely about winning. It is about sharing the happiness. Every hug seems to say, you were part of this. The emotion is infectious and almost indescribable.

There was another reason for Argentina to celebrate with such abandon.

They knew what the Netherlands had done to them before.

In the 2014 World Cup in The Hague, the Dutch had demolished Argentina 4-0 in the semi-final, with Luciana Aymar still leading the Leonas, though already carrying the burden of age and injury. I was there that day too. The moment that match ended, it felt almost inevitable that the Netherlands would lift the trophy on home soil. The Dutch had simply overwhelmed Argentina.

Twelve years later, the setting changed, but the story acquired a beautiful twist.

This time it was the Leonas who celebrated on Dutch soil.

And as I watched them celebrate, my mind travelled back to Perth.

The same 1-1.
The same shoot-out drama.
The same Argentina–Netherlands rivalry.
And, once again, Las Leonas standing with the World Cup.

For someone who travelled thousands of miles in 2002 simply to watch a Women’s World Cup, Amsterdam offered one more priceless memory.

Paisa vasool — all over again.