Telstar: Orbital — Terrace Edition

Words: Sebastiaan Weel

Images: Sebastiaan Weel

I was just ten years old when I attended my first Telstar match in October 1987.

During the half-time break, I got to take a penalty against Florian Vijent — the beloved keeper who tragically passed away in the Surinam Airways crash.

I was awestruck by the experience. Looking back, I almost never got the chance.

Just five years earlier, in 1982, Telstar was moments from bankruptcy — only saved by the fierce dedication of its supporters.

For a while, that match stood alone. But in the early ’90s, a few neighborhood friends started dragging me along.

That’s when the Telstar bug really took hold. The stadium became a second home.

©Sebastiaan Weel/ Terrace Edition. Telstar fans at Willem II.

During the 1993/94 season, I began attending away matches too. Telstar was flying that year and reached the playoffs for the first time in 12 years.

Though we didn’t make an impact, for Telstar fans, just reaching the playoffs felt like winning a trophy.

Since then, Telstar reached the playoffs four more times — and crashed out without much of a fight each time.

Following this club has always meant battling on the margins, never expecting glory, only hoping for survival in the Eerste Divisie.

This season felt different.

Anthony Correia took charge as head coach. A true son of the club — he joined the youth system at 14 and went on to play 356 games across 15 seasons.

After retiring, he started coaching in the amateur ranks and won two national amateur titles with Katwijk, all while quietly serving as Telstar’s assistant coach.

Pre-season wasn’t great — some uninspiring losses — but the league campaign started solidly. For once, fans actually believed.

I remember seasons where three of us stood alone in an away end, or the section was never even opened. This year?

Away matches averaged around 120 fans — a massive leap from the usual 30–40. Home games too — average attendance jumped from 2,200 to 2,700.

Mid-season, we sat safely mid-table and the playoffs were within reach. But then, star striker Oussama Eddahchouri was sold to Deportivo La Coruña, and many fans feared the season would fizzle out.

And then came King Kachati. He took over the scoring mantle and Telstar stayed in the hunt.

On the final day, it came down to a direct duel with FC Emmen for the last playoff ticket.

The stadium was packed, the atmosphere electric — and Emmen were swept aside with ease.

From that moment, it was pure joy. Every playoff round felt like a miracle. The team remained calm and full of belief.

We beat ADO Den Haag home and away. In the semi-finals, we knocked out FC Den Bosch after extra time. Tickets? Gone in a flash. I’ve never seen such demand for Telstar. Sold out home ends. Overflowing away sections.

Only one opponent remained between us and the Eredivisie: Willem II Tilburg.

First leg at home. I just hoped it wouldn’t be a blowout so that traveling to the second leg in Tilburg wouldn’t feel pointless.

But Telstar amazed us again. A 2–2 draw that honestly felt like a missed opportunity — we were that good.

Since 2008, I’ve lived in the East of the country — for love.

Ironically, I now attend more away games than home ones. Traveling to Tilburg meant a two-hour drive, then a mandatory two-hour coach trip from IJmuiden.

I hesitated. But then my wife — a Heracles Almelo fan who knows the playoff magic — surprised me. She’d already bought my ticket. What a woman!

On Sunday morning, I set off early. A send-off for the team bus was planned. I figured I’d be one of the first there, but when I arrived half an hour before departure — hundreds were already waiting.

By the time the team bus left, over 1,000 fans had gathered, flares lighting the way to Tilburg.

Only 600 fans followed in three bus convoys. I was in the last one. You could see the nerves — could this really happen?

Then traffic hit. One of the buses suffered minor damage during an emergency stop, and we had to pull over briefly. We reached the stadium exactly at 18:00 — kickoff time.

Security was swift. I got into the away end by the fifth minute.

©Sebastiaan Weel/ Terrace Edition. Telstar fans with team bus.

Seconds later: chaos. 0–1! We were still catching our breath when the second goal flew in — 0–2! Absolute madness.

Willem II was shell-shocked but clawed one back with a deflected free-kick: 1–2. A nervy patch followed, but Telstar held strong. And then, around the hour mark: 1–3! Fully deserved.

We had chances to make it four. Time ticked down. Then came the final whistle.

TELSTAR. BACK IN THE EREDIVISIE. AFTER 47 YEARS.

It was a party. Tears flowed. Grown men — friends I’ve stood beside for decades — collapsed into each other’s arms, crying. None of us ever thought we’d see this day. We never even dared hope.

The club with arguably the smallest budget in Dutch pro football… promoted. It’s surreal. It’s beautiful.

Telstar. In the Eredivisie.

Maybe I’ll truly believe it when the fixture list drops.