Vriendin Ajax Overleden: The Story Behind the Loss

The silence that fell over the field prior to kickoff spoke a lot. On paper, the meeting between RKC Waalwijk and Jong Ajax was another league game. As it turned out, the night was a night marred by intolerable sorrow. The 19-year-old footballer Mark Verkuijl lost his girlfriend Elisa in a terrible car accident just four days prior. She was just 21.

Elisa was hit by a car while jogging close to Ede, which is not far from her hometown of Veenendaal. The injuries were too severe, but medical assistance came fast. She passed away in the hospital later that day. That nightfall, the motorist was apprehended after evading the scene. It was an ordinary, arbitrary, irreversible, and unspeakably horrible way to take a life.

The news hit Jong Ajax hard, reverberating across the entire organization. Colleagues, many of whom were still in their teens, were taken aback. Not only were they dealing with a tragedy, but they had to take it to the field. The KNVB refused to reschedule the game, citing established protocol. The only circumstance that warrants a postponement is the death of a player or employee. A girl doesn’t do that.

Although it made sense administratively, that distinction felt emotionally hollow. Policies don’t play football; individuals do. Elisa was a part of these young players’ everyday life even though she wasn’t a name on a roster. The impact of her absence was profound, intimate, and lasting, much like the absence of a teammate might have.

Item	Details
Incident	Elisa, girlfriend of Jong Ajax player Mark Verkuijl, died in a traffic accident
Date	Thursday, December 18, 2025
Location	Ede, Netherlands
Victim	Elisa, 21, hit by a car while jogging
Driver	54-year-old woman from Veenendaal, later arrested
Club Impacted	Jong Ajax (Ajax reserve team)
Match Played	Jong Ajax vs RKC Waalwijk, 4 days after the accident
Tribute	Minute of silence and personal homage from Verkuijl and teammates
External Source	NOS, AD.nl, NU.nl, Voetbalzone, ESPN NL coverage

You could tell that many players weren’t prepared during the short pause before the game. Emotionally, no. Not in real life. Not all of them. Despite both groups of supporters respectfully observing the gesture, it did not lessen the sense that something deeply human had been missed.

“Our thoughts were not with this game,” stated Jong Ajax coach Willem Weijs. The majority of his players shared his sentiments, he said. An complete team’s emotional reality was exposed in that one comment. They weren’t ready, but they were there. Dedicated but shattered. It was too painful a loss.

As I watched from a distance, I couldn’t help but wonder how many young athletes are supposed to learn how to grieve while navigating adulthood. This does not have a guide. There’s no manual on how to maintain composure when a loved one abruptly and violently disappears. We hardly ever discuss it when we evaluate performance.

Notably, RKC Waalwijk supporters reacted sympathetically. Their homages were heartfelt. Their cheers were soft. Even in the most difficult times, sport may serve as a unifying force, as it served as a reminder to everybody. No one really cared that the game finished 0–2. The story was not on the scoreboard.

The question that persisted instead was whether this game should have been played at all.

Later, the KNVB admitted that the choice was challenging, citing standardized protocols. Although it was the right procedure, their answer came out as emotionally cold. The call to move forward seems especially tone deaf in light of such a recent and painful death.

The days that followed must have seemed eternally bizarre to Mark Verkuijl, who did not play. His loss was shared in both overt and covert ways, yet his absence was respected. Colleagues had sad looks on their faces. A few lowered their heads. Some just stood motionless.

A tribute video was released. An emblem. For once, the quiet was loud enough to convey what words were unable to. It didn’t feel sufficient, though. Maybe because grieving doesn’t usually fit into formal settings. During warm-ups, on the team bus, or in the locker room, it suddenly appears.

It’s worthwhile to consider more humanitarian ways for clubs to react. Time is just as important as gestures. After ninety minutes, grief doesn’t go away. Loss is indifferent to league schedules. And in the sake of consistency, something important is sacrificed when athletes, particularly young ones, are instructed to play through discomfort.

Jong Ajax attempted that evening. They arrived, put on their boots, and played with hearts still in pieces. But it makes sense that their thoughts were elsewhere. That makes logic, too. Because this was a match framed by mourning rather than just a game overshadowed by sadness.

There will be more games, more minutes, and more headlines in the upcoming months. However, the timeline will seem to be eternally divided for those closest to Elisa—before and after that Thursday. Particularly in light of tragedies that occur so close to home, football players must be able to show humanity.

There was a brief period of silence in Elisa’s recollection. Something more enduring must come next—a reconsideration of how federations handle sorrow, how sport creates room for mourning, and how teammates become family during such moments.

The match continued. But this will be carried by the people for much longer, particularly Mark.