Category Archives: FIFA World Cup 2010

Depressed about Cameroon losing to Denmark

I went into the match with high spirits, but after watching wasted opportunity after wasted opportunity – in spite of Eto’o’s fantastic first goal – I am now seriously depressed about the indomitable lions. What on earth was wrong with Webo today?

What really bugs me is that this should have been a done deal. The expectations on Cameroon were not too high – they were well within the team’s capacity. Denmark did not even play that exciting a game. They just did not waste any opportunities.

Eto’o, the man who went into ‘2010’ under a cloud and therefore must have felt enormous pressure, is the only one who really delivered. And he did so quite early in the came, trying to set the pace for what should have been a clear win by his side.

Clearly his team mates did not feel as much pressure, certainly not Webo who wasted five chances. Or Jean Makoun, Idrissou or even Aboubaker, who, although not as wasteful and disappointing as Webo, nonetheless also cost the team goals.

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Still behind Bafana Bafana and enjoying TWC

I am breaking my resolve not to blog or write any columns about the FIFA World Cup once it actually started. The only column I’d written thus far was published a few weeks ago and it was about the world cup songs. I had decided not to write about soccer here for the same reasons I don’t like to write about it at all: I can be completely irrational when it comes to a few things, and soccer is one of them. Maybe I am too vain to leave traces of my utter madness in cyberspace, even though I know that rationality is over-rated, etc, etc. And you cannot really be lukewarm about soccer – you either walk away or feel too much.

It is no secret that football fans – or soccer supporters, if you’re South African – are a fickle and temperamental bunch. This is clear from the responses to losing teams generally. More recently, Bafana supporters were seen leaving before the end of the SA team’s match against Uruguay and English fans booed their team after a draw with Algeria, in what was the dullest match played thus far, in my book.

I went to the World Cup Opening match with my mother, who is the biggest and most consistent supporter I have ever known, my partner, who is another serious soccer fan, and our child, who loves balls and teams in yellow (and reads these as Bafana Bafana even when they are Sundowns, Chiefs or Brazil) and blows a vuvuzela better than many adults.

I was as sick as the proverbial dog, but pumped full of antibiotics which I usually avoid like the plague, was quite prepared to risk collapsing as soon as the game was over. It was worth all the money and the legal drugs and more. I enjoyed myself thoroughly: loved the game, felt the whole gamut of feelings that come with watching a soccer game where the stakes are high, was impressed by how many Mexican fans turned up even though it was obviously yellow Bafana terrain, and loved the stadium. I may have soccer loving DNA (courtesy of my mother), but I generally am not a big fan of stadiums because they usually come with significant hassle. Soccer City was pretty impressive: beautiful, masterfully designed so that all amenities were easily accessible and to avoid bottle necks (during half time, exits, especially in the women’s loos, at the boerewors and other food and drinks stalls), etc. I also really liked the fact that the opening game was in Orlando for a whole range of other obvious reasons as well.

Yes, I would have been much happier if my team had actually won, rather than drawing with Mexico. There were obvious missed opportunities. Teko Modise, no matter how many groupies he has that are willing to defend him, could have played a much better game. I know he has apologised for not playing well against Uruguay, but he was not exactly in top form against Mexico either. (Okay, it happens!) Steven Pienaar could have had a lot more support from team mates, although the guy next to me had no patience for Pienaar, so I know that we may watch the same game, but we actually don’t always share the irritations. And I am not going to make excuses for him in the Uruguay match, where he seemed to disappear.

Still on the Opening Match 2010 I am now even more partial to Siphiwe Tshabalala and Itumeleng Khune than I already was (they also play for my other team – Kaizer Chiefs).

And, yes, I despaired after the second match with Uruguay. I am not entirely over my despair, but supporters really did not have to leave the match before it was officially over. I think it is important to support your team regardless of the performance. I think this even though I “stop” watching Chiefs when they are on a bad perfomance streak. I have also been known to “stop” watching Bafana games for months at a time.

So, I am going to resist my boycotts and continue watching more soccer than is good for anybody over the next few weeks. I have got it so bad that I am even watching re-runs of matches I have already seen.

And I am still going to wear my Bafana shirts and root for them against France. Hey, Western European teams are not doing to great in this tournament, so a suporter can hope. Sometimes I think that the reason Bafana lose when they do is a shortage of confidence that leads to fewer chances, less aggression, playing defensive games (that sometimes concede too many goals in any event, and so are not very effective defensive games). In the game against France, I am hoping for none of this lacklustre defensive game nonsense and a team that plays like it has nothing to lose and all the world to gain. And goals! I am not interested in that self-comforting “the boys played well” post-game talk without goals. For one thing, it is loser talk. Playing well is all well and fine, but this supporter wants goals from her team.

Go Bafana!

nationalism, patriotism and Bafana Bafana

Every Friday Jozi explodes in yellow and green. I have it on good authority that the whole country is in the grip of deep FIFA World Cup fever – not just Jozi. A friend updated her facebook status from Mthatha in the Eastern Cape by pointing out that she could not get away from the national flags and soccer jerseys.

Some schools have started asking parents to please ensure that the children are dropped off wearing Bafana Bafana soccer jerseys on Friday mornings. My baby wore his yesterday, and will wear another one next Friday. Another friend’s son was fined R10 at his school because his green and yellow is a Brazilian shirt, not Bafana Bafana. All of this excitement is to show a country well behind our national squad as the soccer tournament grows nearer and nearer.

My family loves soccer, so I have no qualms about the soccer and Bafana are closer to my heart than I’d like to admit. Otherwise, how do I explain the anxiety I feel for days before each match they play whether they are on a winning or losing streak?

I have never seen so many flags in the streets in my entire life. There are SA flags on people’s cars, rear view mirrors, outside people’s houses, on people’s hats and caps. The only flag on my car is a rainbow sticker, and I am not likely to have the national flag waving from my car windows anytime soon. It’s not that I am immune to the fever that has gripped the country I call home.

Far from it.

I am as likely to get swept up in the feeling of the moment as the next person. I was a nut during the Africa Cup. But I am just a little frightened of nationalism so the flags overwhelm me somewhat. At the same time, I remember being less bothered by nationalism and being unapologetically patriotic at other times: when I lived in Germany for a short while, I was extremely South African. In 1994 and 2004, I did not apologise for loving SA and being Southern African. Before 1994, I called myself a patriot sans fear of contradiction.

I know that I will probably buy one of those Bafana Bafana flags for my car before I take my seat at the opening match and my resistance to the shirts is lowering all the time. Everytime I enter a Woolies or Pick and Pay, the green and yellow beckon louder and louder. All I need now, I imagine, is the assurance that the soccer flags and shirts are not made in China but locally, and I’ll exchange more of my cash for the goods. Eish.

Of course, there are larger problems with the FIFA World Cup, and whether all the hyped up benefits will stand the test of time. But I honestly am not thinking about that as I marvel at how popular the national flag is, and how for the most part people actually have the red part on top.