When Grief Takes the Field: Mark Verkuijl’s Silent Tribute to Elisa

In football, it is uncommon to find a time when nobody wants to move. The stadium in Amsterdam let out a collective sigh on Monday night when a teenager placed a shirt bearing a name far more significant than his own.

Elisa was the name. She was only 21. A pupil. A daughter. The girlfriend of Mark Verkuijl of Jong Ajax. On Thursday, she had jogged through Ede but never returned home. She died in an unplanned car accident, shattering the emotional cohesion of a team unprepared to deal with such a loss.

Grief had taken its place on the field by the time Monday’s game against RKC Waalwijk arrived. As he positioned the jersey at midfield, Mark, who is only 19 years old and still getting used to the rhythms of professional football, remained silent. His hands shook a little. His teammates, clearly shaken but unflinching, gathered around him.

The game ended as the tribute reached its climax in the twenty-first minute. Together, the players and spectators stood up and clapped steadily, creating a sound that sounded like Elisa’s heartbeat. Mark held up another shirt on the sidelines, this one with the number 21 and her name on it.

The whole scene was incredibly relatable. Stronger than expected.

The KNVB turned down Ajax’s request to postpone the game despite the emotional impact. Official policy states that these postponements only take place in the event of a player or staff member’s death. Despite being technically sound, the decision seemed inflexibly disconnected from the team’s emotional reality.

The timing was extremely precarious.

Coach Willem Weijs disclosed that the night of the accident, Mark’s mother told him the news. He delivered the news to the team in a dark locker room the following morning. He remarked, clearly still taking it in, “It hit like a bomb.” No amount of tactical planning could match the unadulterated nature of that moment, he later told ESPN.

The players and staff decided to visit Mark and his family over the weekend, which was a very human decision. As people, not as athletes. Weijs stated calmly but firmly that “we just needed to be there.” “We were unwilling to discuss football. We wanted to discuss her.

I still remember that moment. It felt incredibly honest to show up without a plan, just to sit in grief together.

There was a noticeable change in the team’s posture when they finally took the field on matchday. It was more important to get through than to win. Every step and every pass served as a silent reminder of the loss they bore.

Before the match, captain Nassef Chourak spoke to the team and urged them to give it their all “for Mark.” He later remarked, “It was very difficult, but it was also meaningful.” There aren’t many opportunities in life to give back in that way.

Hours after the accident, he had paid Mark a visit. Chourak continued, “He’s always been the smartest person in the group, but seeing him like that—it broke me.” Despite its briefness, that sentence encapsulated a universally painful experience. The silence becomes intolerable when the most vivacious soul falls silent.

Nevertheless, the game continued.

Few even registered the final score, but RKC scored twice, once in the 17th minute and again soon after halftime. Tactical acuity was practically impossible due to the emotional strain on the Ajax side. Intentionally, their minds were elsewhere.

Weijs acknowledged that the score was irrelevant in a quick post-match interview. He remarked, “You want to provide some sort of consolation.” Perhaps even a diversion. However, it’s never that easy.

The public’s response was quick and complex. Some harshly criticized the KNVB for refusing to postpone the game, while others commended the team’s strength and poise. One particularly popular post said, “Respect is more than protocol.” Elisa’s name came to represent something greater—compassion over policy—as that sentiment proliferated on social media and fan forums.

The league’s response was firm but acknowledged the tragedy. A KNVB spokesperson said, “It’s a painful decision, but we only suspend games for player or staff deaths.” Although the situation was “deeply saddening,” the spokesperson maintained that regulations needed to be consistent.

Despite being structurally logical, that argument did not lessen the impact.

That night, there was a clear distinction between humanity and the rules. The players’ body language showed it. Despite not wanting to be there, they showed up out of loyalty rather than duty.

That night, Mark Verkuijl did not perform. As the stadium mourned alongside him, he stood silently in the stands, holding her name close. More was conveyed by his presence than by any press release.

The tributes had become well-known outside of Ajax circles by Tuesday. Rival teams, sports journalists, and even politicians acknowledged the occasion. Elisa, a young woman who had been unknown to most only a few days prior, had emerged as a focal point of emotional convergence, whose memory had momentarily brought together a sport that was all too frequently focused on points and results.

Not only is the grief still present, but so is the grace with which it was carried.

Perhaps Elisa’s most potent legacy is that.