Bart Vriends – Beyond the Pitch

Interview with Bart Vriends, Adelaide United FC

​Bart Vriends is the kind of Dutch footballer who doesn’t just turn up, do his job, and disappear into the dressing room. At 34, he’s still fully “all gas, no cruise control” in Australia—because the A-League Men isn’t exactly a retirement village for footballers. He’s recently extended his contract, lives near the beach in Adelaide, and spends his afternoons doing very Dutch things like finding a decent coffee spot, observing cultural quirks, and wondering why everything closes so early.
— Interview by Vasco Bontje, DutchSA

You’ve done a fair few interviews. Do you actually enjoy it?
Yeah, I don’t mind it at all. I’ve picked up a lot of interview experience over the years—being captain at Sparta helped with that, because after matches you’re often the one who has to say something sensible to the media. I’ve also done other bits and pieces: a podcast with two fellow footballers, some TV stuff… I kind of like that world. Not because I’m trying to jump ship tomorrow, but because I’d go completely bored if football was the only thing in my life. It would feel very one-dimensional. And honestly, I’ve seen players struggle when football ends. Their whole identity is “I’m a footballer,” and then suddenly… nothing. That’s not a situation I want to end up in.

Are you already thinking about “after football”? Media, writing, documentaries… that sort of thing?
Bart: A little, yeah. But my main focus is still: play as long as I can, and play well. That said, I’m still doing a podcast from here, so I can keep that going. And I’ve had to say no to other projects—documentary ideas, narrative podcast concepts, maybe writing—because football always comes first. Ideally, you slowly build something alongside football, so when you start winding down you’ve already got other things ready to grow into. But Australia definitely isn’t a “winding down” league. I’m 34, but you can’t cruise here. It’s physically tough, you have to work hard right until the end of your contract.

Football in Australia sits behind Aussie Rules and cricket. Has anything about football culture here surprised you?
The biggest thing for me—kind of a negative one—is attendance and atmosphere at some clubs. With Adelaide United it’s actually great: good crowds, real passion, proper vibe. But I’ve played in places where there are like 5,000 people in a 50,000-seat stadium. That kills the atmosphere completely. In the Netherlands, Germany, Belgium—even mid-table clubs—people show up with passion. It matters. Here, at some clubs, it matters less. The derby (the Isuzu UTE A-League 2025-2026) we played recently was chaos—in a good way. Proper intense, hot, loud… I loved that.

Why do you think that difference exists?
I think sport competition here is just different. Football has fewer “events” than some other sports—less scoring, fewer dramatic moments. For a lot of people it’s more like: a nice night out with the family—have a chat, watch some football, go home. The upside: people don’t get beaten up after a loss, and players don’t get carried on shoulders after one good match. It’s more relaxed, more distance. But the downside is: if results dip and you lose a few dull games, crowds can drop fast. Dutch supporters are more loyal in that sense. In the Netherlands you go because you’re a supporter. It’s more than entertainment. 

But quality-wise—did Australian football surprise you?
Yeah, in a positive way. Europeans sometimes think: “We invented football, so everyone else is doing a primitive version.” That’s just not true. The level is good. People think tactically, training is strong, and the physical level is high. You don’t just turn up and coast—you really have to work for it. And because I’m Dutch, people do ask: “How do you do it in the Netherlands?” Clubs are definitely curious about that influence.

Now, Bart asked me a question: I hear a tiny Aussie twang in your Dutch sometimes—do you notice that?
Vasco: Haha, yeah, maybe. It’s probably a mix. I speak German at home with my wife, Dutch with my 15-month-old daughter (not much feedback yet), but most of my day is in English. That seeps in. Bart: I noticed it too at Dutch drinks: people who’ve been here for 10–15 years — you start hearing it. Especially if they have an Australian partner and work in English all the time. It’s interesting — when does an accent shift without you realising?

When you got on the plane to Adelaide: how did you imagine life would be? And how did reality compare?
I imagined the stereotypes: good weather, relaxed people, beaches, palm trees, barbecues, everyone chill and that’s true to a certain extent. What I hadn’t fully grasped was the scale. The distances. The vastness. The emptiness. Coming from Europe, you simply don’t have the imagination for it. It starts with away games—we’re constantly flying where you get that exposure to distances.. But even in daily life: the distance between my house, the supermarket, the club… In the Netherlands you’d cycle that. Here everything is spread out. And road trips—six hours driving and you’re basically in “nothingness” for huge stretches. That was new.

Have you had contact with Aboriginal culture here?
I haven’t really had personal contact yet. Not through football, not through work, not socially. And that’s something I’ve noticed. For a country that often talks about having one of the oldest living cultures in the world, it feels surprisingly separate from everyday city life. I can’t help comparing that to places like New Zealand, where Māori culture feels much more present — in street names, language, hospitality, and public life. There, it feels embedded rather than symbolic. In Australia, my impression is that Aboriginal culture often remains on the sidelines: acknowledged, but not fully integrated.
I’m not pretending to have answers, and I’m very aware that this is just my observation as someone who’s still relatively new here. But it’s something that’s stood out to me.

Outside of football—what do your days look like? Have you found your rhythm?
Honestly, it’s a very decent life. Training in the morning, plus gym, meetings, recovery stuff, massage—normal pro football routine. That’s five to six days a week. Afternoons are more open. I’ll go for coffee, read, meet someone, or just sit somewhere and chill. One thing I still can’t get used to: everything closes early here. I live near Henley Beach, so if I feel like it, I can just be at the beach. It’s pretty “living the dream,” not going to lie. Compared to the Netherlands, the rhythm is similar but here you spend more time travelling—flights, hotels, away weekends. That also bonds the team, because you’re together a lot. And I keep working on my podcast in the evenings or afternoons.

But the downside of pro sport: it can turn quickly, right?
100%. Your spot is never guaranteed. Two bad games, or an injury, and someone else is ready to take your place. Contracts are short—one, two, three years—so you always have to perform. When you play well, everything is fun and you enjoy the city more. When you’re injured or not playing, you can feel like a tourist on holiday… but without the joy of being on holiday. For me, enjoyment starts with performing and contributing.

Friends and family visiting—has that surprised you?
Yeah, actually. I’m really grateful, but I didn’t expect so many people to come. My dad was here recently. Friends have visited—several couples, my brother, my sister-in-law, even a mate coming back for a second time soon. It’s special that people make that effort to cross the world. And it does something to relationships, honestly. When someone visits you here, you spend loads of time together, you show them your life… It strengthens things.

Where do you take visitors first if you want to impress them?
Something simple: a good spot to sit, have a bite, get a nice view. Then maybe a drive through McLaren Vale. Food is good here, but it’s not always unique. Good quality, but not necessarily “only-in-Australia” special. Breakfast culture is strong though—brekkie burgers, hash browns, that whole thing.

Are you staying in Australia longer, or is it still temporary?
I just extended my contract—at least one more year. But we’re not emigrating. We’ll go back to the Netherlands at some point. Whether that’s in three years or four, I don’t know yet, but it won’t be ten. A lot of people say “temporary” and then it changes, of course. But for us, it’s tied to work and visas. I could go for PR, but I don’t really see the benefit right now.

Dutch vs Aussie mindset: ambition, teamwork, directness—what differences do you notice?
Australians are genuinely friendly. Small talk is natural and doesn’t feel fake. People connect easily, and there’s this sense of community and harmony. In a team setting, you’re welcomed and supported. In the Netherlands, it’s more like: “Welcome—now prove yourself.” Dutch culture is harsher, more direct. The directness is a big one. In Dutch football, after a bad match, you sit in a video session and you hope you’re not the one getting roasted. If it happens, you take it on the chin and move on. Here, feedback is softer and more “wrapped up.” Criticism is rarely aimed at one person. It’s more positive and harmony-focused. I actually think that’s healthier… but sometimes I miss the sharpness. That “right, this is the line” feeling. Work-life balance is also much stronger here. People protect weekends and evenings. If you’re planning to message someone outside work hours, you can expect a polite version of: “Mate, Monday.”  In the Netherlands there’s more of the “you’re responsible for your own success, push harder” vibe. Here it’s more “we do it together.” Even in small things you notice the difference: here, you call the coach by their first name. In the Netherlands, there’s more hierarchy—not military, but it’s there. You call the coach Coach (though you can still give him a box-handshake when greeting).

And humour—any difference?
Australians, to me, come across as lighter. It often feels like people are just a bit more relaxed, almost as if everyone’s quietly won the lottery and decided not to make a big deal out of it. Life feels less heavy, less loaded. Compared to Dutch humour, which can be sharper and more direct — sometimes at someone else’s expense — this feels softer. In the Netherlands we’re quite good at taking the piss out of each other, calling things out bluntly, and laughing because it’s uncomfortable. Here, the humour feels more about keeping things pleasant, light, and enjoyable. Even in media and entertainment, I notice it. I hardly ever see heavy, confrontational talk shows or deep, intense debates on TV. Things stay upbeat, friendly, and accessible. Sometimes I miss a bit of edge or depth, but at the same time I understand it fits the broader mindset here. So yeah, I wouldn’t say Australian humour is better or worse — it’s just different. Less sharp, more relaxed, more woven into everyday life.

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