Maradona Puffs on a Cuban; Bafana Chill Out

POLOKWANE. So, no I didn’t miss my posting yesterday because I was so crestfallen and fed up after Bafana Bafana’s capitulation to Uruguay, nor was it my resistance to writing an obituary. It has just all been a bit hectic after watching 7 live matches in 7 days in 5 cities.

After, making my way back from Pretoria on Wednesday evening following the latest June 16th massacre, I never anticipated what a crazy day yesterday would be attaining a new level of fanaticism – namely a World Cup double-header – an early afternoon kick-off in the Soweto sun – Argentina v Korea Republic (So Ko) followed by a round trip 700 kilometers whirlwind northern road trip to Polokwane for Mexico v France with some crazy Frenchy supporters in tow. 

What a day!

But first things first.

Spare a thought for Bafana Bafana. You know the expression you could hear a pin drop? Well, never in my life have I witnessed such a deafening silence as occurred when the vuvuzelas came crashing to the ground after Diego Forlan struck a dagger into South African hearts at Lofus Versfeld. Forlan who had a patchy spell at Manchester United before hitting the golden boot heights with Athletico Madrid in La Liga, will always be remembered fondly by the Old Trafford faithful.

It was one particular strike that sunk Liverpool which endeared him to so many and ensured that they still sing his name on the Stretford End – ‘Diego oh way oh, Diego oh way oh, he made the Scousers cry.’ Diego the heartbreaker. We have seen him do it all before in the 2002 World Cup, similar strike, under the cross bar, same result. There are at least four Diegos in Uruguay’s starting eleven. Perhaps an ode to Maradona? Regardless, South Africans will remember this Diego less fondly than Mancurians or South Americans.

Bafana’s performance was abject at times and while unlucky with the referee’s dubious sending off of goalkeeper Itumeleng Khune, they never looked capable of overcoming a skillful, fast, powerful and determined Uruguayan side. Uruguay looked fluid at times in possession, as well, when they went forward and with their usual solidness in defense, they could prove to be tricky opponents for whoever emerges from Argentina’s group. However with fewer Uruguayan fans in attendance than other visiting brigades, they have no sizable twelfth man and frenzy around their campaign such as Mexico or Argentina have. I wonder if this less than insane support may inhibit their further progress beyond the Round of 16?

One could go on about how disappointed South Africans are with this defeat but don’t be mistaken. South Africans love to ‘get on with it’ and have a dark and at times wicked sense of humor, turning tragedy into comedy. More importantly, they will never shirk at the possibility of ensuring that the party goes on. Even on Wednesday evening, the party rolled on at SIX Cocktail bar in Melville and no doubt at venues across the country as in victory or defeat, the opportunity to celebrate this festival of football is bigger than the fortunes of any single team.

Okay, the tele is on in the background… The Germans have just missed a penalty? What is this world (cup) coming to? Do we still have to pay taxes? Have they banned the vuvuzela? Wow, I can’t believe what is unfolding before my eyes in Port Elizabeth.

A brief word on Argentina. The one thing about watching live football is, at one level, the total viewing experience is actually often less satisfying than watching the match in the comfort of your high definition living room with cups of tea and instant replays readily at hand. Soccer City on a normal winter’s day in Joburg is about two thirds in the shade and one third in the sun. Our seats by the one corner flag received approximately 90 minutes, plus stoppage time, of full beaming sunlight. As we sat in the glare, in the first half by the Argentinean goal, it was difficult to fully appreciate Argentina’s neat, around the box, attacking interplay taking place down the pitch in the So Ko box.

The second half was much more enjoyable spectacle, from our seats, and while living rooms have their comforts, there is something quite special about seeing the current greatest Lionel Messi, so unassuming a specimen, a mere ten meters or so in front of you at the corner flag. Hats off to Messi on a sublime performance and Higuain’s noteworthy hat-trick.

I’ve been told by those running the post match press conference that the larger than life Argentine trainer Diego Maradona was at his prima donna best, showing up with a cigar, obviously Cuban, and refusing to interact with the journos in the ‘mixed zone.’ While I was in the Mighty Reds corner on the day and still hope that the So Kos progress from the group, given Nigeria’s no hope displays, all praise to Argentina on this most masterful and frightening display. The only wrinkle for Argentina, conceding a soft goal at the end of the first half, may raise a few doubts about their defensive resolve as the tournament progresses.

The Polokwane trip, to enjoy the French demise and Mexican wave, was spontaneous and inspired by some French FIFA volunteer friends based at Soccer City. From the Soccer City parking lot up the N1, past my home and comfy couch, through Pretoria in under an hour and I knew making the 20.30 kick off after a 16.00 departure was well within reach.

As witnessed on the opening day, for me thus far, the Mexican fans have to be the most endearing and entertaining to the neutrals. With their sombreros and wrestling masks and Aztec feathers, they are somewhat less intense and manic then the Argentinean supporters, who you feel could go riot breaking down fences and barriers, banging pots and breaking ATM machines if their beloved team were to fail. The Mexicans rather seem to be along for the ride – jubilant and in full voice when the team succeeds, but ultimately less expectant or entitled than the Argentine or Brazilian fans and simply happy to see their team in the competition putting in a good fight.

The less said about the French performance the better. Its hard to see how Ribery can be spoken about in the same breath as Zidane and Platini or for that matter Messi and Ronaldo as one of the current greats. The sooner France go home, the sooner they can dump Domenach, bring on the Laurent Blanc era and press the reset button. Always a lover of French football, c’est tragic to see how Domenach has continually mismanaged his pack and failed to marshall a decent generation of French footballers to success. One wonders how well this group of players could have done under a Wenger or a Houiller.

Well, the Germans are about to lose to Serbia. With Spain crashing, the Ivorians holding Portugal and Italy held by the Paraguay, the continentals are faltering. Maybe its going to be South America’s year?

A brief word on England. It would be shocking if they were not to beat Algeria. Word has it that David ‘calamity’ James is to start in goal instead of the hapless Rob Green. Dom Fabio Capello usually does not name his team until they are on the bus to the match two hours before, lest his players become complacent or someone pulls up injured late in the preparations. This leak from the England camp only further reveals that Dom Fabio is not running as tight a ship as had been imagined. Breaking his cardinal rule by bringing unfit players to the tournament, England are increasingly looking threadbare and reliant on some magic from Wayne Rooney or an 'x' factor in the form of Joe Cole. Let’s see if the Mother City is kinder to the Three Lions then Rustenburg was last Saturday when they faced the Yanks.

The Germans have lost! The footballing gods have blessed this day. USA v Slovenia from Ellis Park to come. After 7 matches in 7 days in 5 cities, the couch is more than adequate place to watch the country of my birth do battle against another former Yugoslavian break away. Tomorrow it is a pre-dawn departure for Durban, a further 600 kms away, for an early Holland v Japan kick off. Love Oranje and can't wait to see that sea of Orange by the Indian Ocean. Then its off to Nelspruit through god’s country in Mpumalanga (the former Eastern Transvaal) on Sunday for, the holders, Italy, the Azzuri v. the All Whites. Let the party roll on. While the big chill still keeps holds over the Highveld, the tournament is just beginning to heat up and I'm heading the sunny seaside Kingdom of the Zulus!