The dearest story of Jan Rot

Millions of people watch De Slimste every day, from young (my nine-year-old daughter thinks it's great) to old (my parents are fans). The success formula? You can participate, it's clear, apart from knowledge certain character traits of candidates also come to the fore (like just falling short of the other’s seconds in the final, for example), and no matter how famous you are, you still feel a bit exposed. Because there are no safety nets, and you can fall through the cracks mercilessly.

This year, Jacob Derwig was an absolute king in terms of knowledge. But to say that I got to know him better, or even just a little, in seven episodes? Mwah. That was different with Jan Rot. Suddenly there was a skinny man in a sturdy sailor's sweater with a big pair of glasses, looking a bit like he was sitting by the fireplace with the biography of Lyndon Johnson on the left chair. He knew everything. With a certainty like a Swiss watch. Fiep Westendorp belonged to Jip and Janneke, Noraly Beyer to Joost Prinsen. Where the others faltered, he tapped the ball into the net. Precise. He was there to win, but in the friendliest way possible. He had never heard of Lionel Messi. I think the sports section in the Rot household ends up in the litter box by default.

I was fascinated by Jan Rot because I knew him from the past. A little. As a singer, re-translator of the Matthäus Passion. But not really.

Philip Freriks made a comment that triggered me. ‘Your chemobrain isn't really getting in your way yet.’ Hence that slightly fragile figure, perhaps also that certainty, that calm.

But the story gets even better. Once, Jan Rot participated in De Slimste. He was in the final with Arjen Lubach. In the end, they both had 42 seconds, so who started first? The recordings were halted. Yes, back then programs were still halted due to a tie in seconds and not because of serial transgressive behavior. The jury decided, don’t ask me why, that Arjen Lubach could start first and he won.

That gnawed at Jan Rot. For years and years. So when he once ran into Philip Freriks, he suggested whether he could take another shot at revenge. No, Freriks shook his head principled. You can only participate in De Slimste Mens once in your life. ‘But what if it's your last wish because you don't have long to live?’ He must have tilted his head a bit to the side.

So there he was, certain and vulnerable. From now on, we are incredibly team Jan Rot. And not because he is sick, but because he is so nice.

Credits photographer: KRO-NCRV