Heritage

Canada Day, how we love to celebrate. Flags flying, fireworks popping magnificence into the skies and BBQ’s. Hot dogs, hamburgers and the quintessential potato salad adorn our plates washed down by icy cold beer. Yes we love our Canada Day and loudly proclaim to the world that we are Canadian.

On the ice in rinks across the country we excel. On lacrosse fields and rugby pitches we are fierce competitors. At the Winter Olympics our athletes thrill us with their successes. And although we play soccer (or football as the majority of the world likes to call it) we never seem to make it to the world stage. So it is that every four years when the FIFA World Cup comes around we are unable to dress in red and white with silly maple leaf hats and paint our faces in red and white stripes.

We go undercover. We trace back our heritage to our origins and cheer on our motherland. As most Canadians are the result of immigration, we look to where our parents or grandparents or great-grandparents started their lives. My mother was Holland born. Her mother was German. My father was Canadian born and his parents came from good Irish stock. Thus my first choice is Holland with Germany and Ireland a close second. Perhaps it is the orange uniform that calls to me or the crazy fans that adorn the stands. Whatever the reason I toss aside my Canadian pride and shout Hup Holland Hup!

As this blog goes to print Germany has advanced to the finals after a resounding win against Brazil. Hup Holland Hup! Let’s have a Germany Holland fight for the World Cup of Soccer.