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Sunday 13th June – Aftermath

Woke up nice and early and decided to watch the local TV and see if they replayed ‘that goal’ or more accurately ‘that fumble’. I need not have worried. on SABC Rob Green’s howler was replayed on the 15 minute mark, 4 times an hour. Bad news is currency all over the world. The South African TV was however somewhat more balanced than the local Sky TV feed which comes ‘direct from London’. There is no need for me to cover the detail, you can guess the rest. Ok, it was England’s howler and therefore the English media have the right to unload with both barrels, but a sense of measure would be nice. Before the match I casually predicted a 1-1 draw and a media outrage. I would have settled for a draw before the game in any case. So I got the score right and there was a media bile storm but maybe the outrage was for a different reason. Anyway, like all disasters lessons need to be learned, quickly. Who knows if Mr Capello will stick with the West Ham stopper (oxymoron anyone?) or revert to the apparently injured David James, although the player himself vehemently denies that he is anything other than fully fit. Is that attitude a clue as to why James has not been picked perhaps?

Anyway, let’s leave the politics to the politicians. But to quote one journo of repute, Robert Green is one of the most level headed and normal footballers and certainly the most charity minded. Perhaps he deserves a little bit of consideration. I don’t recall David Seaman getting this much flak when he conceded the ‘wonder goal’ from Ronaldino in Shikzouka eight years back. Anyway, move on Andy.

Another quick thing to highlight is the amount of foreign national fans inside the grounds. Don’t be fooled, whilst there were thousands of English and American fans inside the stadium on Saturday night, blowing the pre match reports from FIFA of the tickets sold in each country, numbers were swelled, especially within the English ranks, by local support, much of it die hard and totally genuine. There are loads of South Africans who follow England, Holland and Portugal ( the biggest Portuguese community outside Portugal lives in South Africa). Expect to see loads of orange shirts at Holland’s games – thousands will be from the Netherlands, but many more will live here.

So back to Sunday morning. Dom, Nat and Pilks were off early doors having had a few hours sleep and fuelled only in Kelloggs Corn Flakes and toast, to see the ‘El Grande Classico’ at Polokwane in the north of the country. Dom has a propensity to work in a binary fashion.Everything is either 1 or 0, on or off. He has bought so many tickets for this World Cup it defies belief, indeed it makes my 16 games at Euro 96 look tame, more so when you take into account the distances travelled. His enthusiasm is legendary, effusive and actually contagious. No wonder he has had such a positive effect on the team at Nike where he works.

The aforementioned ‘El Grande Classico’ was the lunchtime match between Algeria and Slovenia, who are both in England’s group of course. Kirsty, Simon, Chris and I decided to stroll down to the local shopping centre and have a relaxed lunch. We weighed up the options and decided on the aptly named ‘Chefs in Motion’ and enjoyed a wonderful lunch consisting amongst other things of antelope, ostrich, kudu, prawns, line fish and beef. Although you could mix Lonehill up with one of the smarter districts of LA on a bad day, there is no doubt at all that the fayre is vastly superior. The match was pretty uneventful, but there were some signs that both Algeria and Slovenia have some pace that will worry our defence, especially Mr Carragher who looked tired as he ran out as a sub on Saturday. We decided to head over to the mock Italian Rennaissance Monte Casino centre to watch the Ghana vs Serbia game. Along the way we met a couple James and Lauren, walking their dogs Willow a Great Dane pup and Hobbs a golden Labrador. Out of nowhere, they offered to drive the four of us to our destination, thus reliving the squeeze of the night before, Pilks being replaced by the two dogs! A lovely touch from warm and friendly people who like everyone else here are so proud of the World Cup being held in their country. Indeed Lauren said that she never watched football until now, but having seen it she had changed her mind, which she admitted had been closed to football previously. Another convert to the beautiful game.

Duly dropped off at Monte Casino, we found the Fan Fest and settled in to watch the Ghana vs Serbia match on the big screen. This was another Vuvuzela experience. Plenty of noise, dancing and general good vibes. My only downside on the Vuvuzela, which has come in for a lot of criticism back home, is that I have almost lost my voice given that I have had to shout so much in normal conversation.

The game itself was tight and settled by a penalty for the second cynical hand ball in the penalty area of the day. Pleased to see Ghana nick it if I am honest, and the assembled crowd cetainly backed their fellow Africans all the way. So far during all the matches we have been at or watched on the big screens, there has been much alcoholic consumption and absolutely zero confrontation. Just goes to show that alcohol and football fans can mix if the attitude is right, after all rugby has managed it for years.

End of the match and we got word from Dom’s possee that they were on their way back from Polokwane and we were going to meet up for a Sunday evening ruby and catch the Germany vs Australia game. Just what we needed after a huge meal, a vat of wine and a keg of beer each! Still we all decided to play the team game and had a very nice curry, even I personally felt like Monsieur Michelin.

Back to base to see the second half of the match and see the Germans look frighteningly awesome. Poor old Australia never got in the game, and the decision that saw Tim Cahill straight red carded was a disgrace. Pre match talk, mainly by me of ‘fancying Germany in round 2’ was buried hastily. Indeed a good friend from Germany, Ralf, texted in to say he was pleased with the way his team performed. Pleased? I would have been positively salivating if England had put a shift in to that standard, and therein lies the problem. It is down to mentality, technical ability and tactics, things traditionally that England generally lack or at least fail to get right together. To win World Cups you need these attributes. Maybe we should stick to winning friends and having a good time? I think we could enjoy the experience more…

Here we go…the start of the 2010 South African World Cup! (Kirsty’s blog)

The morning started when we were awoken at 6am by the sound of vuvuzelas and car horns out in the street, the excitement is palpable (by the way, the noise never stopped it’s just got louder and louder throughout the day!)
We decided to watch the opening ceremony and the first game of the tournament in a local bar and there wasn’t a shortage of places to choose from, the world and his dog (literally, dogs have been seen wearing South African shirts) are out in force for this historical moment, the excitement has reached fever pitch and the South Africans are quite rightly seriously proud to be the hosts of one of the biggest sporting events in the World.
After an brilliant afternoon watching South Africa vs Mexico in a local bar with Jules, our ears have just about become accustomed to the deafening din of vuvuzelas in a small bar. Being South African I thought Jules would be fine with the sound of vuvuzelas but she admitted that she found them really loud and she visibly jumped every time there was an unexpected blast. When South Africa scored, Johannesburg and everyone at Soccer City in Soweto and I’m sure the rest of the country went properly bonkers, I’ve never seen anything like it! This country has whole heartedly welcomed the World Cup and everyone young or old, football fans or not are excited and sporting green and yellow, blowing vuvuzelas and beeping horns, so imagine the reaction when SA scored! I found myself in a sea of yellow and green dancing and shouting and as soon as the match was over the vuvuzelas stopped and the dancing started, suddenly everyone throwing shapes, break dancing, street dancing and generally showing off their moves in the middle of a large circle of dancing, clapping and singing, every couple of minutes someone would be pushed into the centre to show off their moves and at one point Andy was beckoned towards the centre. You literally have never seen me move so fast to grab him and contain him…I’m sure quite a few of you have seen him dance, it can only be described as a unique style all of his own design. I just wasn’t sure that this crowd of young South Africans break dancing and shakin’ their booties on the dancefloor were really ready for Andy throwing his unusual shapes (if you’ve seen him dance, you’ll know what I mean when I say ‘pursed lips and fingertips’)

Anyway, after a thouroughly enjoyable afternoon of copious amounts of local beer, fantastic football and enthusiastic dancing we headed home, tired and emotional.

The first day of the tournament has got off to a flier.

Let’s put things into perspective. one game down, a draw thanks to a dreadful error by Robert Green and two games to play. Our World Cup campaign has got off to am averag start and now we must be focused not only on winning our next two games but scoring some goals. We all know this, but more to the point Mr Capello and his braves will be thinking of nothing else. Before the game I predicted a 1-1 draw and howls of derision from the tabloid press of ‘bring ’em home, we’re not good enough’. It turned out better than this, although from what I can see, our noble tabloid press can’t help but conform to type. We can forgive them that, after all they are desperate to sell their rags – they even have locals out here selling The Sun and The Mirror in the middle of the road as is their custom. It looks extraordinarily dangerous if you ask me.

I am sure we will line up differently against Algeria, whether Green gets picked again, I am not so sure. But I do think we will see a different formation. Rooney on his own with Gerrard behind, Lampard, Barry, Lennon, Joe Cole in midfield and a back four of Ashley Cole, John Terry and Glen Johnson. Only doubt outside of the goalie is whether we play Carragher or Upson or Dawson. Watching Upson all season, I would say my vote would be with Dawson, but I am sure Mr Capello would pick Carragher. So that’s the football speak out of the way, a good thing given that it is only a game, all be it the reason we are out here!

Keep calm, carry on.

Yesterday was one of the best days I have had at a football match since Japan 02. The atmosphere built up and up through the day. I have often said, when the England fans and players grow up, England FC may actually achieve something. Just think rugby fans and players, especially English ones. The chasm between England fans and players of the two sports is huge, but I do feel the football fans are at last getting the message. If you want to drink a gallon of beer, feel free, but do it with a smile on your face and do it with grace. Equally the environment can play a part. Yesterday, as with every day so far on this trip the locals are always smiling, always interested in meeting you, knowlegeable about football, friendly and welcoming. The American fans, in Rustenberg in their thousands, were loud, brash, patriotic and boisterous. But they were friendly and the banter was just banter and nothing else. Go back to say Italia 90 or even France 98 and things were so different. England away now is far more Barmy Army than a Mongol horde. As I said in Japan, it takes a bit of give and take on all sides and things get better. Segregation in the ground was thankfully non existent, that leads to tolerance and understanding. For those of you tired of hearing the Vuvuzelas on TV, don’t diss them. I can tell you the atmosphere they create is unique. Having them blown in your ear is a shock granted, but it is non offensive and actually quite funny. More power to the Vuvuzela, may you sound be heard throughout this World Cup.

Rustenberg was miles away from Johannesburg in every way. This was the Africa that you see on a David Dimbleby or Michael Palin documentary. Vast areas of deep red landscape, houses and shops built alongside the roads and little else. The poverty was inescapable and for those of you who have visited Africa, you will know what I mean. You do wonder when FIFA’s profiteering claw has left in just under a month, will there be a legacy? One that will actually make a difference to people’s lives? A decent as the Rustenberg stadium is, there is no visible sign of anything else. No hospital for instance, and If there is one, I bet it would be of a pretty low standard.

Having said all of this though, the afternoon in Rustenberg with Nat, Kirsty, Pilks, Dom, Chris and Simon will take a lot of beating.

The journey was a little tight, given we were 7 in a car built for 5, but at least we got banter heads in early. Dom decided that he would phone some hostelries to check availability. He spoke to Lucky Bar, Uncle Tom’s and Cecil’s Bar. Most of the recipients were clearly confused, but it amused Dom and passed the time.

We stopped by a park and ride place which was completely empty and decided to get closer to the ‘action’ which proved to ve a wise move. Along the way we saw the chap who had cycled here from England on his own, starting out in October. Hats off to him, that is some achievement.

Eventually we parked our charger in someone’s house for a small fee and then hitched a lift with the happiest bus driver known to man a short distance to JC’s bar. This was proper. Picture the scene. A place with a reed cum rushes roof, beams, thick concrete and mud walls and a long high counter which was the bar. Beer was unfeasibly cheap and round for 7 of us was about £10. When we stepped in, early doors, there were a few locals, some plastic chairs and a pleasant vibe. On a big screen in a darkened room was South Korea vs Greece, the picture a little on the fuzzy side but visible. I watched the second half whilst the others decided to take some sun in the car park entrance a lovely scene, only spoilt by a Millwall flag. Bless. South Korea looked a decent side and Greece looked like England at Euro 88. Hapless and hopeless. For the good of football let’s hope young Messi is not taken out by the Greek choppers. As one American wag in the bar quipped, ‘their football looked about as good as their economy’. Enough said.

A brief bit of sun, as some will know I am not keen on the sun, having been somewhat precocious as a child, I really do not need help with the ageing process, and back to the bar for the next match.

We managed to secure a nice spot by the empties and in front of the speakers for the Argentina vs Nigeria match. The bar was now heaving and I am sure that every drop of alcohol was sold out yesterday come 7pm. I quickly made friends with a lovely gentleman called Horace, smartly dressed in pinstripe trousers and leather jacket. Horace was from Mozambique, a neighbouring country, ravaged by civil war and economically worse off by a factor of ten than South Africa. Desperately poor then. Horace worked in the platinum mines, Rustenberg being famous for mining and worked as a winch operator. He spent all day 6 days a week underground and earned 3500 rand a month. That is about £350. Given that my experience of prices for petrol ( about 80p a litre) and groceries probably only 15-20% cheaper than the UK, you can get a feel of what sort of standard of living exists. Horace was well spoken, extremly polite, friendly and like everyone else, had a small as broad as the River Thames. He loved his football and spoke enthusiastically about a number of subjects uncluding music, travel and books. I did notice that he had a special relationship with the bar staff, and that was handy given the queue for the bar was out of the bar, and into the car park. A few beers from me for Horace and the barmaid, and we were sorted for the rest of the afternoon. Result.

We meandered off towards the stadium post Argentina’s victory against Nigeria and soaked up more of the atmosphere. Lo and behold along the way we bumped into Messrs Steve Eva, Alan Eva and Dave Mulhry all England away vets. They had spare tickets, an unusual occurrence in any tournament.

Entering the ground to the sound of the now ubiquitous Uwe Seelers, I noticed one thing missing. The sound and atmosphere was at fever pitch and all the fans were mixing and behaving like normal, mature people. The thing missing was the police. I could not see any. The checks on tickets entering the ground were carried out by polite Africans, always smiling and courteous. Was asked by one of the turnstile staff ‘Sir, would you mind drinking your beer up before entering the stadium’, I acquiesed without any hard feeling. The man even thanked me for doing so. We could all learn a thing or two about manners from these people. Lovely stuff.

In the ground we bumped into a couple of American fans who we met a few days earlier in the queue in Checkers. Chip and Dave, lovely geezers and into their football. Dave had done 4 World Cups, was in his fifties and vowed to me that he would attend every future tournament until the day he died. A man after my own heart. We discussed the fact that all the hoardings around the ground were occupied by England flags. I said that it was a reflection of our colonial DNA reflecting the need to mark our territory. This amused Dave. We bade them farewell, and I left them with ‘may the best team win’ to which Dave said ‘he just loved that British approach’.

And so to the match. The Eva boys and Dave turned out to be sitting a few seats away from us, amazing really. You all know what happened, but one thing worth sharing with you.

There was a lone young (like most of their supporters) Yank sitting a little behind us. He got a load of abuse, some of it pretty nasty from some of the idiots around him. Around us were some fellow old school England (no colours on the outside, only on the inside), a couple of Brummies, two Millwall and a couple of Scousers. 20 years ago these types would have been part of the few thousand in Naples. Without hesitation the Scousers called the Yank down and offered him a place amongst us. That was my highlight of the game. Have we changed? Yes we have to quote a famous American.

The journey home was pretty painless for me as I got to ride up front. We found our way back to the car via Minty’s Tuck Shop and 3 hours later we were back in Johannesburg and to bed. My thoughts go out to Robert Green. Don’t hang him out to dry, he doesn’t deserve it. If we have grown up, we will stop talking about 66, fate and all that claptrap. Back the players and the management team, we can progress through the group stages and get into the knockouts. Money on Green to save a penalty or two? If selected don’t bet against him. His record of penalty saves for the Hammers is simply amazing.

Friday 11th June 2010 (Andy’s blog)

Well we thought this would be a big day for South Africa and we weren’t to be let down. The World Cup opened in Soccer City, Soweto to scenes of euphoria, the like I have never ever experienced at any World Cup. Our friends Dom, Nat and Pilks were lucky enough to have tickets to the match, but Kirsty and I had to watch it in a local bar, aptly called Capello’s in Lonehill Johannesburg. We were joined by Jules (Julia) who we know, a committed Bafana Bafana fan and very knowledgeable about the game. We settled in a couple of hours before the kIck off, with some beers and a plate of ribs and wings. Everyone in the bar was decked out in yellow and green and hyped up for the game.

The game itself started nervously, with South Africa looking like they had completely frozen. The Mexicans had an impressive West Ham, Spurs and Arsenal front line and could have has a couple before SA actually woke up, but thanks to the excellent Itumeleng Khune who kept Franco out there was no damage. Throughout the game the bar was literally on fire (there were open fire features throughout, which looked great, but made for the temperature inside being at times unbearable) and the Vuvuzelas were on Defcon 5 the whole way. A nervous first half came to an end and instead of some half time punditry from messrs Barnes and some other bloke, the music went on and the whole place danced to a different full on club vibe. Think Ibiza in the afternoon sun, swimming pool style. Everyone was drinking and dancing and the place was absolutely burnin’.

So to the second half. Bafana Bafana started stronger and with more purpose. Surely the nerves had fallen away and Carlos Alberto Parreira had told his braves to go out and play. And play the did, they played like lions and were the better side. One of the moves of this World Cup climaxed with a top class goal from Stephen Tshabalala – surely one that will feature in the top 5 goals to be seen in this tournament. Needless to say the bar erupted, noise, jubilation and sheer emotion outpouring. Amazing stuff. I had tears in my eyes and found myself grabbing and hugging anyone. This is football.

After that it felt like another England World Cup match or worse still West Ham everyweek! The tension was unbelievable Kirsty and I both suffering heart palpitations and back pain! Sadly and somewhat inevitable, the shaky South African defence let the Mexicans in and they got their equaliser. Unlike in England where everyone would be swearing and angry, this bar went quiet for a nano second, supporters deflated by the goal temporarily, before the noise and dancing to start up again. What a lovely spirit and very refreshing to see the smiling faces smiling for precisely 89mins and 50 seconds out of the 90!

At the end of the match the bar became a club and dancing was compulsory, which is never a problem for me. A wonderful experience, nerve wracking all the way. We walked back with Jules to our digs in the pitch black to the sound of Vuvuzelas and car horns sounding. A brilliant day all round. Early to bed, for tomorrow we play our opening game in Rustenberg. I am sure it will be as nerve wracking as usual. In precisely 12 hours we will find out.

This is what we have come for, come on England.