MSNBC reports that global warming is destroying one of the most important sports traditions in the Netherlands: according to an agency, the ‘elfstedentocht’ will only be held once every 18 years due to rising temperatures.

When I was younger, the Elfstedentocht was held regularly but not so in recent years. Our winters aren’t very cold any more, which is important considering that the Elfstedentocht is a 120-mile speedskating marathon over the frozen rivers and canals linking the eleven cities of my home-province of Friesland (not ‘northern Holland’ MSNBC! That’s like calling Florida southern New York).

A study published Friday by the respected Netherlands Environmental Assessment Agency said the race is likely to be held only once every 18 years because of higher winter temperatures. Three years ago, it estimated the likelihood at once every 10 years.

Organizers insist on a minimum thickness of 6 inches of ice along virtually the entire route in the northern province of Friesland to ensure it is safe enough to carry thousands of skaters.

Now, for not “Frisians” and especially Americans it is difficult if not impossible to understand what the Elfstedentocht means to us. But I’ll give it a try nonetheless: imagine that the US cannot, for some reason, host the World Series for 18 years. And on top of that, no Super Bowl either, due to global warming.

Imagine that and you may understand our sadness a bit. But only a bit.

For the Elfstedentocht is an old tradition. We Frisians identify ourselves with ice skating (speed skating, but also just a hobby skating on the ice with friends, family and relatives). What we do every winter, or what we did, was that we all went on the ice, to skate, and one day in the year, saw a group of our best ice skaters take each other on in the 120-mile Elfstedentocht - after the professionals, amateurs would skate it as well (start at approximately the same time, finish much later of course).

Children would get their first ice skates when they were three or four years old, and their parents, fathers mostly, would teach them how to skate. Lovers would put on the skates, get on the ice, and skate while holding hands, laughing when the other, or both, fell.

This was what Friesland was all about in the summer… but what it will never be again.

Well, once every 18 years it will be the old Friesland again, but that’s not exactly a comfort to hundreds of thousands of Frisians who grew up ice skating, and watching the Elfstedentocht (I actually visited the finish line back in the 1990s with my father, we saw the final sprint, who won, who lost, after which we quickly bought a cup of hot chocolate milk).

I started writing about this news with a bit of irony, but now that I’m done, well, the irony is gone, and that sad feeling of ‘nothing will be the same again’ rules.