Category Archives: World Cup 2022

Wednesday 30th June – published Saturday 3rd July (Kirsty’s blog)

Andy, Keith and myself set off for Madikwe Game Reserve about four and half hours drive north west of Joburg on the Botswanan border, I’m really looking forward to it as it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. You may have noticed that’s there’s a discernible gap between my blogs, this is because I’m maintaining radio silence on the debacle that was England vs Germany at Bloemfontein…nough said!

We negotiate our way through about 90km of gravel tracks before reaching one of the gates to Madikwe (this doesn’t include a slight detour that the satnav decided upon itself to take us so we revert to good old fashioned maps ).

As soon as we pass the gate we see giraffes and impala and drive for about another half an hour through the bush looking for our lodge, Madikwe River Lodge, little did we know at the time that we could have bumped into fully grown wild lions at any point during our drive…not sure what we would have done if we had!

We’re greeted by lovely smiling staff with a hot flannel and a glass of juice, hardly roughing it, and subsequently shown to our lodges. It’s a beautiful wooden lodge with a thatched roof set on the river with a large decked area, inside is split level with the largest bed I’ve ever seen covered in about a hundred cushions…all this luxury is in the middle of the South African bush!

After a quick sandwich we head out to our truck for our first game drive of the trip, we’re joined by a lovely bunch of people including a polish family Kris, Helena and their son Wicktor along with their South African friend Vivian, Marc who’s from Germany but with not a trace of a German accent, he has a soft American accent due to going to college in the US, two American brothers, Nikhil and Aroon and our Madikwe guide Jerry.

Before setting off Jerry asked us what we’re looking forward to seeing and I reply elephants…though in hindsight I should have added “from a safe distance”

Off we go through the bush and spot impalas, zebras and giraffes almost straight away, we’re were tackling pretty rough terrain and at one point negotiated a particularly steep and rocky section. Then about two minutes after this, Jerry spots a herd of elephants in the bushes, though as we stop and switch off the engine in order to observe them, there’s a distinctive hissing noise and it becomes apparent that it’s coming from the tyre. The problem here is that we’ve stopped right in the middle of the path that the elephants are taking (a no no in the wild, we’re told to always give the animals an escape route and don’t block their route). So there we are, unable to move (Jerry did try to reverse) slap bang in the middle of the path of a herd of elephants and their young, which makes them doubly dangerous as cows will do anything protecting the babies.

We were told to keep very quiet and very still and the elephants started to amble past us, everything was fine until the last two alpha females of the group, one of them actually suckling her calf and so had to stop very close to us. Jerry had just been explaining to us about the signs of an angry elephant that’s about to charge, the signs are pacing, ear flapping, pawing the ground and throwing dirt into the air with their trunks, the final sign being trumpeting. Suddenly one of the females who was extremely close to us started to go angrily go round in circles, ears flapping furiously, pawing the ground and chucking dirt about the place…this was getting scary, we were sitting ducks, we couldn’t get out of there, I very slowly glanced at Helena who couldn’t even look, but by far the worst view was catching sight of Jerry our guide, who was looking absolutely petrified, sweating and looking for all the world like he was one step away from needing a change of underwear!!!

My heart was pounding out of my chest, I daren’t take my eyes off her and even more sinister was the way the mother who was suckling her young started moving very slowly in our direction while staring menacingly, added to which one of the young suddenly startled and ran across our path trumpeting…as Andy quite rightly pointed out “this was bad news!’ Though Andy then suggested that I try and take a photo of the angry about to charge elephant for posterity…I nearly swore at him but I didn’t want to move my mouth too much in case the elephant saw me move, as apparently if you keep still they just see the whole truck and not the individual.

After a while both females calmed down slightly and following a final harrumph moved on to push over some nearby trees. Jerry leapt into action got the jack and the spare tyre and as the elephants were still nearby asked us to hide around the one side of the truck while he changed the wheel. Andy went off help him though unfortunately the wheel wouldn’t fit! Know we really were in trouble, it was starting to get dark, we had a flat tyre with no spare, angry elephants were nearby, it’s unsafe out of the truck at anytime of day but especially at night as this is when the lions would certainly take pot luck and hunt a slow moving or indeed any moving person! There was only one thing to do…we erected a picnic table, covered it with a table cloth and poured some stiff gin and tonics, complete with ice and lemon, how very British! All the while with Jerry keeping watch and listening for the low grumble of lions or the return of the elephants.

After two hours, most of it in the dark and getting quite cold, rescue came in the shape of a spare wheel and our exciting adventure for the evening was over, Jerry didn’t admit it until afterwards that he was really scared, though to be fare he didn’t need to, just one look at his face revealed the fear accompanied by a look of terror in his eyes…he wasn’t the only one!

We spent a pleasant evening eating outdoors with a nice glass of red or two. I tried pap for the first time accompanied by the most tender melt in the mouth eland, it was glorious (though we might have seen one in the wild earlier), we got to know our lovely ‘truck neighbours’ better and chatted to Kris, Helena (Wiktor was a little tired by this point) and Vivian, then Marc, Andy, Keith and I moved next to the fire and spent a fair bit of time discussing football and FIFA. A perfect day and nobody died!

Friday 2nd July (Andy’s blog)

Now the dust has settled on the rout of England in Bloemfontein, physically if not emotionally, and we have had time to breathe, count to ten, add one for pot and make things neat, where do we go from here?

The same place we always go. Nowhere. Or more specifically not as far as most England fans and media would like to think. Not unless there is some bold, radical and visionary leadership. For that to happen, we need a complete clear out at all levels. The old club tie brigade at the FA, the shoe ins in the team, the profitmeisters at the Premier League, the press hacks for red tops and otherwise all need to be rebooted, or just booted. In short, evolution has left not just English, but British football behind, we either have a revolution – Year Zero – or we continue on the road to nowhere, allowing the free market to capitalise on football or soccer as an ‘entertainment product’. We can mask the cracks, conceptualise and build brands (Club England anyone?), hire all sorts of MBA qualified marketing types and try and buy our way out of trouble or we can look at other nations and learn. Whilst we may think fhat we invented the modern game, and by all accounts The Victorians did, we have been well and truly left in the wake of at least ten other nations. Above all we should invest in youth, and ensure that it is nurtured and allowed the freedom to grow, but whether the youth will behave responsibly and buck the trends of a tearaway nation is anyone’s guess, I wouldn’t back them too heavily.

On the subject of youth, and the reason why I love the World Cup goes way back, forty years. My first memory of watching a World Cup was in 1970. My dad bought a brand new colour TV, we were the first people to get one in the street, complete with a remote control (ok it had a channel and volume button only and was attached to the set by wire, but it was the best gadget ever) just in time for the football. England were reigning world champions and I had collected my stickers, which in those days were printed both sides (player information on the reverse) with a small strip of adhesive across the top. You licked this and carefully applied the player picture in the right position within the book. I proudly collected the whole set in advance of kick off, and my dad also collected the Esso coin collection for me, which featured all 30 of the original squad including fringe players. Names such as Alan Oakes, Keith Newton and his brother Henry, Colin Bell, Peter Bonetti, Peter Storey, Jeff Astle, Ian Storey Moore, Brian Labone and of course Geoff, Martin and the two Bobbys stuck with me. I was glued to every game and remember reading about the effects of altitude in my Shoot magazine, something that had helped Bob Beamon smash the long jump World Record in Mexico City two years earlier, another memory burned into my infant brain. But despite being reigning World Champions, I watched every game we played with my little heart in my mouth. It was my Grandad, West Ham through and through and a football, racing and boxing enthusiast come expert who told me, ‘we’re not that good, always trying to pass the ball into the back of the net instead of cracking one. England are just like West Ham really.’ In the first game against Romania we won 1-0 with Super Geoff (my all time hero) getting the goal, I think. The second game was against the masters, Brazil, the greatest football team I have ever seen. We lost narrowly 1-0 and Jeff Astle missed a sitter. Gordon Banks made the greatest save of all time and Jarzhino netted to win the game. Our last group game was against Czechoslovakia, who we again beat 1-0. And then we went to the quarter finals to face Germany. Don’t forget that there were only 16 teams in those days. 2-0 up and cruising, we lost 3-2, Gerd Muller passed into English paraochial slang for ever more and this little seven year old went to be crying. Everyone ranted on about how England should have played Brazil in the final, but for the Germans ( and of course the Italians who knocked them out in the semis), but that all felt terribly contrived and optimistic, to me even at the time and I was only seven.

Then we really did hit the fallow times two World Cups with no England in it, as an 11 and then as a 15 year old, left to watch Scotland and my second team Italy. I even fell out of love with Brazil on account of them changing from ‘the’ team of pace and skill to a bunch of cloggers in 74, and replaced my warm feelings for them with admiration for the Dutch.

During this time where there were no World Cups as far as England were concerned, English teams won the European Cup, a proper unseeded cup which only allowed the champions of each UEFA member league to enter, a staggering seven times in eight years 1977/78 Liverpool, 79/80 Nottingham Forest, 81 Liverpool, 82 Aston Villa and 84 Liverpool. The English First Division dominated the European Cup. Indeed there were similarities to English Premier League teams dominance of the Champions’ League today even though the competition is a complete misnomer. Yet England was not at the 74 & 78 World Cup and not at the 84 European Championships. Why? When we had the best teams in Europe, could we not actually get our national team near the big prizes? Some would say just like today?

It really is simple. Each of those successful club teams was a mix of English, Irish, Scottish and Welsh players, the teams were not English at all just as they are not ‘English’ today.

Our best performance at a World Cup since 1966 in my view was in Spain 82. Most people will quote 1970 or more likely 1990, as it is fresher in the memory and everyone remembers a tearful Gazza and Pavarotti. In 1982, we went with zero expectation. Zero. It was the first World Cup I could attend, and I went hell for leather to get there. England had a good manager, Ron Greenwood, and a brilliant skipper, Bryann Robson. We/he scored the fastest ever goal in World Cup football (37 seconds) against a team we fully expected to beat us, France. We won 3-1 and then went on to beat Czechoslovakia 2-0 and Kuwait 1-0, I remember the Kuwait management taking their team off in protest when ‘er scored. We played all of our games in Bilbao, and if there were more than 2000 England fans in Spain, I would be surprised. We had a ball, but were treated like scum by the police and locals, lived in fear of our lives but the trip and the camraderie was unbelievable. The next round was a weird round ronin of three games. We drew Spain and Germany, drew 0-0 with both and went out on goal difference. France went on to the semi finals to lose an epic to Germany, indeed Battison lost his teeth in an epic fashion to Harald Schumacher and Italy won the cup again after 44 years or so. Indeed a superb French side came to their peak 2 years later and lifted the Euorpean Championships in 84 when we failed to qualify, and 3rd place in 86.

We actually went to Mexico with more hope only to have an absolute nightmare. Again as was the custom in those days we played all our games as seeds in one city, Monterrey and lost our opener 1-0 to Portugal. Facing Morocco in the second round, we did an Algeria and drew 0-0. Ray Wilkins got sent off in one of the games and was replaced thereafter ny Peter Reid and Bryann Robson’s shoulder also went. Faced with a win or bust game to get out of the group, we beat Poland 3-0 at half time. Second round meant moving to Mexico City and our opponents were little known Paraguay again beaten 3-0 and we then stayed in Mexico City for the quarter finals against Argentina. You all know what happened next!

Euorpean Championships in 88 were another mess, which goes to prove that we can’t beat the elite. Losing 1-0 to Republic of Ireland, 3-1 to Holland and 3-0 to Russia confirmed how poor we had become.

The modern legend of Italia 90 saw us based in Caligari the capital of Sardinia. It started with a 1-1 draw with the Republic of Ireland, during which there was an electric storm, after which the English press demanded that we were brought home, such was the team’s performance deemed ‘disgraceful’. We outplayed the European Champions Holland, who we had lost 3-1 to in that tournament, but could only draw 0-0, I remember Pearce scored a goal at the end which was disallowed as the ball went in direct from an indirect free kick and Gazza did a Cruyff down the left to everyone’s wonderment. The final game saw a change of tactics brought about by the players, whereby Mark Wright joined the back four to create a back five, swept everything up in front of him and scored the vital goal to beat Egypt 1-0 and sneak through. Second round saw us in Bologna to play a tidy Belgian side. That was an epic, us winning 1-0 with a goal in the 120th and last minute of the game. We were lucky that night given that Belgium’s Jan Cuelemanns had a good goal ruled offside. Onwards to Naples to play everyone’s faces that year, Cameroon. Two penalties led the way for a narrow 3-2 and the semi inTurin. Again everyone knows the story that night. One abiding memory for me was watching the West German subs warm up before the game and thinking to myself ‘they are all bigger, stronger, fitter than is and all of them can trap a ball easily and move it. Oh dear, oh dear!

The euphoria of Italia 90 was driven by the same press who wanted the team home after the opener. Bobby Robson, who I had seen personally hounded by the hacks whilst we were staying in the same hotel as him and coach Don Howe, was elevated to mythical status and legends were born. The fact was we had not beaten a front line top 8 team, just like in 86.

The completely briliant FA decided to appoint Graham ‘do I not like that’ Taylor as we coincidentally entered another barren spell – an appalling Euro 92 campaign in Sweden followed by non qualification for USA 94.

Those idiots woke up in time for Euro 96 which needed no qualification in any case as we were at home, and Terry Venables took a decent England team to another semi final and another defeat by Germany. We just don’t seem to beat anyone of any substance when we have to, ie once we get into the knock out stages. Ok, a brilliant perfomance against a strong Holland team did stand out, but ultimately we do not win against the big teams. France 98, another manager (Hoddle) more press revelations (faith healing) and another early exit to a big team, our friends Argentina again. The story just goes on and on. Holland & Belgium in 2000 saw us take a wholly undeserved 2-0 lead in Eindhoven against a superb Portugal who went on to beat us 3-2, giving us a proper footballing lesson just like the Germans did in Bloemfontein last Sunday. A 1-0 win agaisnt a terrible German side was the only bright spot as we lost to Romania (again) and went home before progressing.

Japan in 2002 saw a far better approach under Eriksson. A draw with Sweden and Nigeria (both of who were decent teams) left us needing a result against Argentina and we got it courtesy of Beckham’s penalty. The siege on our goal in the second half could not reverse the half time lead and we progressed into the second round, dismissing a handy Denmark 3-0 (again like Poland 16 years before, all over at half time). Then back to type losing a quarter final against Brazil, who we never beat when it matters. The press slated Sven for not attacking Brazil when they went down to 10 men, something I felt was harsh at the time and harsh today. Brazil went on to win it. Just like Argentina did in 86 and Germany in 90.

Portugal hosted an expectant England in 2004 for the European championships and again we fell at the quarter finals, to the hosts.

Germany in 2006 was about as good, football wise as this World Cup. Beating Paraguay and Trinidad and Tobago and a draw with Sweden, allowed us to sneak past Ecquador. Then we faced Portugal again and lost on penalties, again.

Enter the FA who decided Sven was going to be replaced by Graham Taylor II, Steve McLaren and we predictably failed to qualify again for the European Championships in Switzerland and Austria. That was no big deal as we never do anything at European Championships, there are no easy teams from Oceania, Asia or Africa to beat or draw, instead they are all savvy European teams who work out how we play and how not to lose against us.

So you see our expectations are unrealistic. We have not beaten any team of real significance in a knock out game since 1966. Instead we have been beaten by Germany 5 times, Argentina twice, Brazil once and Portugal twice. Given Portugal are not one of the top teams down the years, it goes to show that if we draw Brazil, Argentina or Germany in a knock out match we lose. Who have we really beaten in World Cups or European Championships when it matters? Spain is the only top nation and that was on penalties.

So what can England do to change this? Indeed can they change? Maybe ditching the arrogance and accepting we are not world beaters is a start. Rebuild from the top down and bottom up. If England are not careful they will get dealt the same fate as Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland whereby those nations have slipped down the FIFA and UEFA rankings so far that qualification for major tournaments becomes harder and harder and ultimately highly unlikely.

Indeed is it time to bury the hatchet, take inspiration from the seventies and build a Great Britain team after all we have done rather well at the Olympics recently by ‘backing winning sports’ with resource and claiming gold in cycling, rowing and sailing. One GB team would be stronger as the sum
rather than the parts. National investment would be needed, but borrowing the key lessons, processes and approaches of the gold standard Olympic teams would be radical. It would mean we could also enter an Olympic team and use that as a springboard for youth, alongside the UEFA and FIFA youth tournaments. Obviously this would not happen, given that all of the home nations have self interest geared normally around money and jobs for the boys, but surely it would improve the collective standing of British teams?

The FA could even be nationalised and receive lottery funding to produce results by investing in infrastructure independently of the mercenaries and bottom line focused Premier League. It seems that the Premier League’s relationship with the FA nowadays is somewhat tenuous so why don’t the FA look to break away completely and choose non Premier League players for England, given that they may be hungrier for the shirt and the prestige. Who knows, in time, a Premier League with the same 20 teams season in and season out would be even more impotent. The FA could merge with the Football League or at least co-operate and work for the benefit of the NATIONAL game rather than the club game. This would build bridges with legions of increasingly older and disenfranchised fans, vital if the game is going to have a life outside of Sky. Before we all howl about the Premier League being the best in the world think about it. Only 4 teams have won it and one of those was Blackburn. The only team who look like they may break into the current monopoly is cash rich Man City, hoping ape former also rans Chelsea, who used to be much like Citeh. Fans are tired of the boredom, tired of the same teams, tired of the expense, tired at the stark commercialism and exploitation. Just look at the mess the ‘owners’ of Manchester United and Liverpool have created with their models based on ‘leveraged debt’ and ‘brand building’.

And finally, the press/media simply have too much power and influence. Despite few of the lead journalists ever having kicked a ball in their life, many relish the role of kingmakers. In this World Cup, Henry Winter and the rest of the press corps always wanted a 4-5-1 system and many punters, players and pundits agreed after the Algeria game that a change to this system felt right. Capello was too stubborn to change. But Winter, Paul Hayward and Oliver Holt are also big friends with ‘Ashley’, ‘Lamps’ and ‘JT’ as they are referred to by those three and the rest of the hacks who write for the daily newspapers and report for Sky. Indeed they all have contracts to appear on Sky every Sunday morning to dissect and give us their ‘inside track’ on the Premier League and football in general. Sky are the main revenue source for the Premier League and international football gets in the way of the ever so precious Premier League. Indeed Sky is not a World Cup broadcaster and probably hates not to be officially involved. Hardly surprising that the Premier League decide to issue their fixtures for next season shortly after the World Cup started. It is almost as if the Premier League acts like a spoilt brat any time football is mentioned and the Premier League misses out. Between the broadcasters, the critics and the producers of the entertainment there is a cosy little relationship one that maybe should not be trusted by the ordinary club and/or country fan. After all, it rarely seems critical does it?

To close off I will leave you with this thought. In my day job I get involved with politicans and members of Her Majesty’s. Government and was speaking to one prominent MP a while ago about targetted tax breaks for video games production in the UK. I suggested that we invest in the way that other winning nations have done, such as Canada, France and Australia. I also suggested that we need to join up the education system with industry. We the games industry need more maths and science students and the country needs more achievement in those basic subjects. If it were football maths and science would be tackling and passing.

The MP said to me that ‘picking winners’ within industry was not fair and not sustainable. Instead we should look to ‘winning’ examples of the free market such as the Premier League and Manchester United. I said that was all very well, but a completely free market such as the Premier League, you can end up with disenfranchised customers (fans) and a very weak national side, unless grass roots investment was attended to alongside targetted help to build a national team. Also just look at the mess at Manchester United, now free marketeers and business has taken over. Much like the Premier League, the video games industry is in good shape. Dig deeper however and you find a tale of lost and wasted talent,British talent, cut adrift and sometimes not even spotted, by market forces. Where we once led the way, we are lucky to follow and pick scraps from the floor, because we don’t learn and we don’t do what other nations do.

Cast your eye over to the Bundesliga or the Spanish league and you will see targetted efforts by national associations to build a winning and sustainable national team. None of the current German squad play outside of the German league. 20 out of 23 players in the Spanish squad play at home.

Back in 1998 Germany lost their World Cup second round to Croatia. It was a shock. Two years later Germany were beaten 1-0 by England and did not progress from the group stage of Euro 2000, a year later England beat them 5-1 in Munich in the World Cup 02 qualifier. Germany set about a root and branch review, they invested in youth and coaching. People like Franz Beckenbauer run the game and provide the vision and the voice, not some businessman with a suit as seems to be the case in our leagues and set up. The results of this are starting to be seen and we certainly had a lesson thrown at us last week in Bloemfontein. Not many stars, let alone superstars, but plenty of strength, skill, pace and committment. And youth. I doubt their players are discussing their cribs, Baby Bentleys and Wags.

Proper investment and leadership could result in an English or even radically a British football team doing well in ten years time. The only things that stand between that are money, the Premier League, the media and of course time. The kids are out there, can someone with a football heritage start taking them and us fans seriously, please?

Friday 2nd July 2010 (Andy)

Just a quick congratulationary note to the men in Orange. Strong in defence and well organised, as well as exceptional committment saw them through. They did not have a prayer in the first half, totally blown away by a superior Brazil.

Arjen Robben, Wesley Schnieder and Mark Van Bommell looked awesome. And Dirk Kuyt ran and ran, proving that not all Premiership players are tired. The match goes to prove the best players don’t always make the winning teams. England take note.

Friday 25th June 2010.Published Wednesday 30th June 2010 (Kirsty’s blog)

Firstly a huge thank you to Little Henry/Sambo/Mrs Key for running around to our house, collecting post and watering Mr P’s plants, he’s been worried about them in the heat, though I did get a frantic phone call from Little Henry who couldn’t get into the house for some reason, but was bursting for the loo! She’d had a run to ours from the neighbouring village so couldn’t get back quickly…thankfully the door finally opened and disaster was averted! Thanks for watering the plants Sambo and not watering the doorstep ;o) (I’m sure she’ll love me for revealing that!)

So after nursing a hangover in Port Elizabeth we head out to Seaview Lion and Wildlife park about 40 mins outside PE as recommended by Wendy at Sir Roy’s. It’s a great place, obviously with a seaview, hence the name and we self drive through the park and spot giraffes and a variety of different looking deer like creatures (I have subsequently looked them up then promptly forgotten what they were all called!)

We then arrive at the lion part of the park whereby they send you and your car into the lion enclosure through a series of huge metal gates, very reminiscent of Jurassic Park. In order to get a good photo opp, Andy wound down his window to get the lion in the background (which we were told not to) and then turned his back on the lions. Great fun telling him that they were right behind him at the open window!

We then went to the area where they hand rear the lion cubs, they’re absolutely beautiful, after a couple of months and up until twelve months they go into an enclosure where they can still be stroked however no children are allowed in with the adolescent lions. Straight away we can see why, as we’re on a suspended wooden walkway above the enclosure, the lions were lying around lazily playing with each other and dragging unidentified hunks of meat and hoofed legs around the place, taking absolutely no notice of the people on the walkways…that is until a child came along! Suddenly all lion eyes are on the child and they start stalking. The children are oblivious to this but the Lion’s instincts are clearly to pick off the smaller prey, we watched time and time again as the lions would appear to be asleep until the appearence of a child when they would be wide awake, alert and start prowling alongside the child, at one point there was a child running along the walkway closely followed by a couple of running lions, it’s actually quite perturbing to see the way they were watching the kids, they never took their eyes off them!

The good thing about this santuary is the fact that after maturity these lions are trained to hunt (wouldn’t take much from what we saw) and then released into the wild through a series of National Parks and Game Reserves. The same happens with the tigers here, though they’re not indiginous to South Africa, projects like this can only help the seriously dwindling tiger population.

After spending a lovely afternoon with the lions we then film another piece to camera for Mike at BBC Look East for Andy’s response to England’s win, we film it from the beautiful Seaview Lion Sanctuary and it goes out that evening, where it’s spotted by Alfie Dinsey amongst others, Andy’s 15 minutes of fame continues.

We head straight to PE airport from Seaview for our flight back to Joburg, we get there ludicrously early as we want to watch the afternoon fooball. We’re greeted by the superbly, smiley and happy Joey from Europcar (pictured below) and head into the departure lounge.

Turns out our flight to Joburg is ‘delayed indefinitely’, what the bejeezus does that mean? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? No one seems to know!

After some scant information and a free burger we finally leave PE at around 10.30pm (we got to see the evening game too), so we spent around six hours at an airport that doesn’t have an awful lot of entertainment or shopping to be had…though the only thing I was worried about was poor Bonny the dog back at Joburg who was waiting patiently for us to get back and feed her, she had to wait ’til 1am for her dinner, she was ever so pleased to see us, bless her!

Bloemfontein and Germany next, should be fun!

Tuesday 29th June 2010 published 29th June (Andy’s blog)

A quiet day for a change, given we are full on again tomorrow game driving in Madikwe we need a rest!

Caught up on some writing and then Dom, Keith, Nat returned from the Holland vs Slovakia game in Durban ( having made a 4.30am start!) complete with little Andy and Bella.

We took a trip into downtown Johannesburg which has ‘changed’ down the years and hit the Carlton Centre in order to seek out ‘Ball Man’ which is an installation made by Nike constructed from 5,000 mini footballs. These balls are predictably in Brazil livery (everyone’s favourite second team, apparently). This was in the middle of this centre which is smack in the middle of the old and formerly prosperous central business district. Underneath were an array of oversized Nike boots, complete with orange heels, the ones specially launched for this World Cup and what every kid will be wanting like, now. Apparently there are four different models of boot, all grey with orange backs. There was also an impressive display of all the Nike World Cup kits – Brazil, Holland, Portugal, South Korea, New Zealand, Australia, Slovenia, Serbia and USA all fitted onto weird models (torso upper and lower, and legs) which were internally lit and housed in glass cases. Nike also supply Ambassadors who’s job is to talk the public through all things Nike and technical. Overall this was really impressive stuff. Add to this that I managed to pick up a Kaizer Chiefs 40th Anniversary track suit top and it turned out to be a doubly interesting day. Fabulous!

As we left, I noticed a quote by Luis Fabiano which kind of hit the spot for me. ‘In Brazil your first gift is the ball, so you always have that with you’. It’s in the blood, it’s in the breeding, it’s in the DNA of every Brazilian. 5 World Cups and counting. QED.

Wednesday 23rd June published Tuesday 29th June (Kirsty’s blog)

Match day morning and we have a lovely breakfast whilst chatting with Wendy and Mardie (who is pictured below). We try some traditional South African chuckaluka (sorry about the estimated spelling) it was gorgeous, about as spicy as a vindaloo the spice certainly woke us up!

Dom, Keith, Simon and Chris turn up to collect Simon’s blackberry which had been left in the restaurant the night before and yet again we tried to see how many grown adults can we squeeze in one car trick! It was two in the front, three in the back and me lying across the laps in the back, poor Chris and Andy took the brunt of the weight and vuvuzela Keith rode in relative comfort.

Dom dropped us at the boardwalk where we were looking for our mate Ben Grant who we haven’t seen for a couple of years since he moved to Australia. On the way we see the bizarre sight of two English coppers with proper helmets, it looks so strange to see them out here out of their usual environment. We stop them for a photo op, very friendly they are too though when we commented on their technical mountain climbing looking gear they said the material was cheap and not as good as it looked due to cost cutting, though still miles better than the old style cotton shirt with collar scenario. How football is changing…here I am on a football trip fraternising with the rozzers and discussing fashion tips.

It’s a sea of red and white and as usual the English have marked their territory and draped flags across every bar and restaurant. Amazingly in the crowd we find Ben and his mates who have all travelled from Oz, there appears to be ten or twelve of them all wearing the Italia ’90 blue England away kit…after that throughout the whole day we keep spotting a little group of blue. It was great to see Ben and the boys and after a few pints and a catch up it’s time to head to the stadium.

En route we pick up ‘the boys’ who’ve been enjoying themselves in a bar right on the sea front and they’re all in high spirits.

As we start walking down the road towards the official FIFA fan shuttle buses which will take us the 5km to the Nelson Mandela Bay stadium we keep spotting the local minivans, they’re like a hop on, hop off transport service for the locals (the ones that FIFA have advised fans not to use), so as one of them stops at lights we all hop on and take over the minibus, I asked the guy at the front how much it would cost to take us to the stadium, his response was “whatever you want to pay mam”. The guy had the biggest smile accompanied by the biggest gold tooth I’ve ever seen! We kept taking pictures and he thought it was hilarious that we wanted a picture of his cold tooth, not only was his dentistry unique he also beat all the FIFA buses, scooted round a back street route and got us there ‘quicksticks’ (this is Andy’s favourite new phrase, he heard South Africans use it a couple of times and has taken it as his own…complete with the accent).

We bump into the boys in blue again, Ben and his mates and not the coppers and look for somewhere to drink, though there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to drink outside the stadium so we head inside for beers.

Talking of police, there are twelve British police out here, probably as a profile thing rather than assisting the South African police, however there’s been zero trouble, the atmosphere has been brilliant wherever we’ve been. Lots of singing and partying, lots of fathers and sons, husbands and wives and families, there hasn’t been a single English arrest…football really is changing, and with any luck it will be exactly the same when we play Germany and Argentina. (this bit was written before our campaign was brutally cut short in Bloemfontein, that report to follow).

Once inside we’re ridiculously early as usual and have time for a few more beers in the glorious sunshine, the England fans are in fine voice and easil drown out the vuvuzelas. After kick off the singing gets louder and the atmosphere is fantastic all aided and abetted by a completely different England team to the one we saw play Algeria. After the goal, there were deafening chants of “we’re not going home, we’re not going home, we’re not going, we’re not going, we’re not going home, oi!” much to the amusement of the locals who asked me what the fans were singing.

We could see ‘the boys’ from where we were sitting an after the game we jumped back onto one of the little minivan taxis and once again took it over, there were two women already on the bus and they looked a little intimidated at first at the noise, chanting and singing filling the van, along with us banging on the windows at passing fans, though they soon started joining in and even gave us a traditional South African song.

We hit a bar back at the boardwalk and from there on in it all becomes a bit of a blur, though I do remember a couple (Hannalo & Hannes Cilliers) who were innocently on a night out for a civilised dinner when they were suddenly surrounded by drunken, singing England fans spilling beer on them and completely ruining what should have been a lovely dinner date. We got talking to them an it turns out they live right out in the country and had booked a babysitter and had decided on a romantic night out, the first for many months, so Hannalo and Hannes we apologise profusely for turning your dinner date into a raucous, messy beerfest!

I would love to tell you stories from the evening as we laughed all night long…however I can’t remember what we were laughing about, I just remember singing, dancing and laughing. Frodo/Ewok/Eva Major has pictoral evidence so as soon as we upload them, we’ll get them posted, they may shed some light on the evening…then again they might be messy ;o)

Monday 28th June published Tuesday 29th June (Andy’s blog)

We awoke in ‘my Nona’s room’ in Bloemfontein to the sound of barking dogs. Everyone has dogs seemingly in South Africa, and they all live outdoors, guarding property rather than providing company I suspect. Our host Irene was nowhere to be seen, so we had a cup of coffee, a quick shower and then away. I felt strangely positive and liberated. The focus now was not on getting to Cape Town to play Argentina, but getting an earlier flight home and looking forward to the game drive at Madikwe we had booked when we felt the quarter finals were a possibility. One always needs tasks and targets in life, doesn’t one? Always look on the bright side and keep positive!

The journey home was unremarkable but for one thing. A Piper light aircraft parked somewhat casually on the side of the road. Sadly we were going too fast to take a picture, but it was there large as life. We then heard on the radio that it had landed the day before when the pilot reported that he had encountered difficulties and decided that the N1 highway was the only place to land. Apparently some of the passengers were being treated for shock. Amazing stuff.

Radio 2000 provides much useful information not least the news about the aircraft. However, Kirsty did wonder if royalties and the payment of is an issue as there are loads of cover versions of well known songs not least a version of ‘Wonderwall’ sung by some laconic and slightly off key crooner who had clearly taken too much mescaline. The radio presenter was doing a lovely job of ‘filling’ between covers. She mused about what other event in the world would bring women together and in the spotlight in the same way as the World Cup. Outside of the Olympics, there is nothing to compare, but bless her she did suggest a ‘beauty pageant’.

The next item of discussion was centred around South African’s president Jacob Zuma’s call for the Ghana team to change their nickname from the Ghana Black Stars to the African Black Stars, such is the continental support for Ghana now. He said that they carried the hopes in the same way as ‘The Blue Samurai’ are doing for Asia. I wonder how long it will be before England get an official nickname, obviously there are plenty of unofficial ones flying about!

We arrived back in Johannesburg shortly before 2.30pm and the rest of the day looked like this.

Sort flights home.
Eat.
Watch Holland vs Slovakia.
Watch Brazil vs Chile.
Sleep.

We fell at the first hurdle. We had booked a game drive in Madikwe a park north of Johannesburg, on Wednesday through to Friday and so wanted to head home at the weekend. Not a chance. Johannesburg airport is like Dunkirk, there are thousands of English fans trying to get home and the earliest our ‘fully flexible’ Virgin flight could muster was next Tuesday evening. It will be fun hitting the office straight from the airport on Wednesday! I caught up with Steve and his team who were at the airport trying to get earlier flights – they had booked their’s for next week as well and the thought of staying on was too much for some of the boys.

So given we have a few days on our hands, we decided to book a trip to Rourke’s Drift at the weekend. Fortunately there was one room left in the prestigious and historic lodge, ‘Fugitive’s Drift’. It has always been a lifelong ambition of mine to visit the scene of the famous enagement between a hundred and fifty British soldiers and 4,000 marauding and freshly victorious Zulu warriors who had massacred a column of 1500 men at Islandwlana the day before. So something brilliant to look forward to before we head home. The only downside is the great David Rattray who I saw a couple of times on his tour of the UK some years back, was senselessly murdered in his house by burglars about four years back. The world was robbed of a great historian and a great speaker. A man with passion for his subject who was committed to keeping the stories of the Zulu War alive. He always had the utmost respect for both the British and more importantly the Zulus. A wonderful man and a tragic loss. ThEe

We headed off to eat and watch the game. No surprise that a solid Holland beat an unimpressive Slovakia who have the worst haircuts in this tournament. I am sure that Holland are capable of upping the stakes and they will have to when they play Brazil. Later Brazil were to resemble Germany of old- physical, technically brilliant, athletic, clinical in front of goal and amazing stamina, virtually impossible to break down and solid in every position. Chile looked like Brazil of old, circa 1970 except that they could not supply the final ball. Brilliant skills, close control and wonderful use of space. You can’t really see past Brazil, Germany, Spain or Argentina winning this tournament to be fair.

In between games I sat down my co pilot and chief organiser Kirsty, variously known as Payne Lite, Number 2, vice captain and 27, to watch Zulu. If we are off to Rourke’s Drift she may as well ‘know ‘er ‘istory’ after all ‘it’s enough to make yer heart go whooa whooa whooa whooa’.