Just Football article on the Soweto Derby

Here's another article that I wrote on the recent Soweto Derby at just-football.com.

Diary of an Umlungu* at the Soweto Derby - Part Two

Saturday 9th March 2013

I had decided long ago that I was going to drive to the stadium myself, rather than travel with the branch of the supporters club that I'm a member of. So often they've been late or just on time. This time I wanted to get there extremely early to get a good seat and avoid yet more traffic chaos. There would be chaos as well as there were fewer police roadblocks and ticket check than at the Afcon. 

Smiles before a mediocre game

As soon as I'd got out of my car, I was greeted by a bunch of Chiefs supporters who, with the now customary greeting of "Hey, umlungu!", asked if they could take my photo. The one Pirates supporter looked at me with disdain, telling me that I should swap teams and support the Buccaneers. I just laughed it off and told him that Pirates fans would be crying by full time.

No matter how hard I try and fit in, I always seem to look stupid!

Arriving three hours before kickoff, the stadium was fairly empty. A few had had the same idea to avoid the chaos that comes with arriving later but I was free to wander around the stadium. Eating my now customary pap and steak, I could relax before the tension really started to build. With two hours to go, I found myself in the front row near the players tunnel. I was with some of the regular, and well-known supporters, swapping match predictions while boiling in the afternoon sun. Many asked me if I was cold as I was wearing a hoodie, but they laughed when they realised that I was just trying prevent myself from being burnt to a crisp. 

The SABC presenters were constantly adjusting their makeup

The SABC pundits and cameramen set up right in front of us; I'd never realised that to be on television required so many make-up fixes! As the tension built, the tv cameras and photographers kept turning back on where we were. As soon as the lens was on the supporters, they started dancing and singing as if a switch had just been flicked. I could either cling to my social awkwardness, not dance and sing, and look completely out of place, or I could throw my inhibitions to the wind and still look out of place. I choose the latter, partly because in that kind of atmosphere, you just have to let go. At one point, as I was absentmindedly looking around, I heard the umlungu shout again, only to see that I'd been umlungu-ed by a pitch-side umlungu photographer. This was confusing to all who had heard it and we had to laugh.

Maybe I was asking for trouble standing near these?

 When I had arrived, the stewards will diligently enforcing the ticketing system. As I had a R60, I was in the bottom section but by kickoff, it was highly dubious whether this had been uniformly enforced. For a sellout crowd, there were a number of empty seats in the top tier while people were cramming into the bottom tier. At so many of these occasion, the stewards are ineffective and standby. This isn't a criticism of the stewards as I'm not sure that they can do anything when faced with a swarm of supporters determined to go where they want to.

Gearing up for the big game

 

Standing right at the front, we were wedged in with limited ability to move. The aisles behind us had been filled with people so we at the front had little hope of getting back to get drinks. It was a hot day and many around me (including myself) were feeling the effects of the heat by half time. Some supporters started pleading with the pitch-side runners who were supplying drinks to the cameramen and television presenters to give them water. Many refused but a couple realised that it was a far from ideal situation and handed some bottles of water over. I for one was extremely grateful when I was given water as I was starting to feel the effects of the sun. A couple of rows behind me, someone had either collapsed or had fallen over and was not looking too good. Yet with so many people crammed into a small space, the stewards and security struggle to reach them. While lessons have been learned from the 2001 Ellis Park stadium disaster, there is still much to improve. Such crowd problems have the potential for some major issues, although on this day, nothing major happened. If they could do it during the World Cup, why can't domestic football effectively steward and police the local game. I'm not sure the political will is there.

Cramming into the bottom tier

Still, the carnival atmosphere that comes with derby day is an exciting one, and one that I've never experience back in the UK. I'm still learning the songs but at the very least I can play a vuvuzela. Those six weeks worth of trumpet lessons finally came in handy! A 0-0 draw was hardly the result that anyone wanted or that the hype around the game needed. A capacity FNB Stadium when a goal is scored is an electric place to be and I was sorely hoping to experience it once more. I think that the fans were robbed.

The game finished at 17:30 but I didn't get home until 20:30. I was stuck in my car for ages and spent two hours moving little more than twenty metres. When I finally was on my way home, I stopped off at a petrol station to get a much needed drink. Kitted out in my Chiefs gear, the pump attendants came over to talk to me. 

Them: Were you the umlungu at the game who was on the tv?

Me: Er, no hair and wearing sunglasses?

Them: Yes, that one.

Me: I guess that was me then.

Them: Pirates already have an umlungu. Now we (Chiefs) have one too! 

I drove the rest of the way home in quiet contemplation. I had had a similar conversation back in 2008 when Manchester United came over to play Chiefs and Pirates. In five years, has SA soccer fandom really changed that little, that the local game is still seen by most as a 'black' game?

*umlungu/ mlungu = white person

Diary of an Umlungu* at the Soweto Derby - Part One

Friday 8^th March 2013

My supporters’ club membership for Kaizer Chiefs had expired a couple of years back while I was living in Edinburgh. There wasn’t much point in trying to renew it if I wasn’t going to be able to watch them play. I hadn’t bought a new Chiefs shirt in a few years either. I’d wanted the zebra one but I could never get hold of it in the UK.

Today I rectified both when I visited the Kaizer Chiefs village in Naturena, Soweto. It’s not a village in the conventional sense but an area housing the offices, training facilities and the club shop. With it being the day before the derby against Pirates, taxi loads of Chiefs supporters from across the country and beyond (supporters from Harare made an appearance) congregated at the village to renew memberships, buy new shirts and other merchandise, and get in a party mood. The club shop itself was like a mini Man Utd megastore, with a variety of shirts and other goods (the strangest was a wireless door bell – I guess someone might want it). The fans were parting with their hard-earned cash very easily as Chiefs’ branded plastic bags were stuffed full of the latest stock. Two free derby tickets with every home shirt purchased must have helped there.

You could buy home shirts, two different away shirts, training shirts, training vests, rugby shirts, golf shirts...

Yet also in the shop lurked a camera crew, well, cameraman and an interviewer. They made their way over to me and as I made eye contact with them, I knew exactly what they wanted and why, but I still wanted to get them to explicitly state it. They asked me if they could interview me for Kaizer Chiefs TV. The following exchange went something like this:

Me: But why would you want to interview me?

Them: We think that you’ll represent the diversity of Kaizer Chiefs fans.

Me: But I don’t think that I do. There aren’t many people like me.

Them: That doesn’t matter.

For diversity, read white. They couldn’t have known that I was an Englishman when they first asked me so it couldn’t have been that I was from overseas. The attention-seeking side of me loved this but it was also telling of the state of South African football fandom as a whole. The significance that these people had place on me because I looked different from everyone else reflects the sad truth that domestic football is often ignored by many white South Africans, so when a white guy supports a local team, it is often seen as strange. I remember back in 2009, The Star did a whole page article on an Orlando Pirates supporter just because he was white.

Sleep-deprived supporters from around SA enticed by free t-shirts and derby tickets being handed out

I wasn't going to start dancing but the Amakhosi faithful were getting into the party mood

The cameraman followed me to the membership office so he could film me filling in my form. I tried to do it in my best handwriting but even my best is just a messy scrawl. The interview itself didn’t last that long. At one point, I had to say Amakhosi 4 Life with two fingers up in the peace sign, which is the symbol that the Chiefs fans use to reflect their slogan of Love and Peace. This was done with a fair deal of social awkwardness as my English reserve was bitterly fighting against any such lack of inhibition. I bumbled my way through the next two or three minutes without too many 'ums' and 'ers' before making a hasty retreat. Still, for a brief moment, the researcher had become the researched. I don't think that my research training covered this.

*umlungu/ mlungu = white person

Soweto Derby Day

Tomorrow is the 148th edition of the Soweto Derby between Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates. This is the biggest fixture in South African football, and probably SA sport in general (sorry, rugby fans). With over 94,700 seats, FNB Stadium has been sold out for days. There has been a great rivalry between the two sides since Chiefs emerged from a split with Pirates in 1970. This game is even more significant given that Chiefs are top of the league, five points clear of second-place Pirates who have a game in hand.

The problem is that, come Saturday afternoon, there'll be many of the Amakhosi (Chiefs) and Buccaneers faithful desperate to get tickets. Despite many fans buying their tickets ahead of the game, the culture of last-minute ticket buying still remains. The PSL have stated that "The law will descend heavily on unruly and violent supporters". If the police perimeters do their job and prevent ticketless fans from entering the stadium precinct, problems will be minimised. If. There'll be some disappointed, and possibly disgruntled, fans who won't be able to get in.

This fixture has had a problematic history. The 1991 Orkney and 2001 Ellis Park Stadium disasters saw 42 and 43 people die respectively at games between the two sides. My own PhD research uncovered oral histories recalling violence and crime at these matches in the 1970s, with fans getting beaten up and mugged. Yet something has dramatically changed in recent years. In today's Star newspaper in Johannesburg, an article neatly sums it up calling it the Friendly Rivalry. Fans on both side will travel together in minibus taxis to the game and sit in the same stands. In my experience at these derby matches, I've never witnessed any problems other than some slightly beer-fuelled aggro, which has been quickly snuffed out by surrounding fans. Can you imagine Manchester United fans sitting side by side with Liverpool fans? I didn't think so.

Much has been made of the increasing global reach of this fixture. While Supersport uses its platform to broadcast across Africa, Al-Jazeera is doing the same across the Middle East and North Africa, while ESPN will be showing it in the UK and Ireland. For those watching overseas, you may get the impression that SA football is one big vibrant carnival. The problem is that you'd be wrong. Outside of the Soweto Derby, attendances are dwindling and at times miniscule. Soccer Laduma recently ran an editorial that reflected on poor attendances across the Premier Soccer League. If the figures quoted here are at the very least roughly accurate, a 6,000 PSL crowd average suggests some major structural flaw in the domestic game. The article is right to suggest that the derby is little more than a sticking plaster for the deep, underlying illness that plagues the PSL.

Still, if you get the opportunity to watch the game, wherever you are, and you can get through the drone of vuvuzelas through the television, you may get an inkling of the electric atmosphere. Having been to both the Manchester and Soweto derbies, I'll conclude with the following: the football is better in Manchester but the atmosphere is better in Soweto!

Malaise on the pitch, malaise off the pitch

At the weekend, I went along to FNB Stadium to watch Kaizer Chiefs v Free State Stars. With Orlando Pirates leapfrogging Chiefs to top spot during the week, Chiefs desperately need to win to keep up the pressure. Chiefs won 2-1 but the three goals couldn't hide the fact that it wasn't the best example of the beautiful game.

Yet the game didn't only suffer from a lack of excitement on the pitch. In a stadium that can hold 90,000 people, there couldn't be more than 20,000 (the PSL do not supply accurate attendance figures). Empty seats aren't the most conducive for generating an exciting atmosphere. Maybe the R40 (£2.90) ticket price is too much for regular supporters? Maybe regular broadcasting of games on Supersport and SABC is keeping fans from the terraces? There is no data or evidence in South Africa to answer these question. However, what is evident is a major structural issue in SA football. If the biggest supported domestic club in South Africa cannot get close to filling half of the national stadium, what hope is there for the other clubs?

Fans clearly have better things to do with their time

Still, some hardy fans gave it a good go.

During the match, the advertising boards occasionally flashed up the following message:

That's just asking for trouble

Admittedly, patience isn't something that many South African football fans have. Within two minutes of the game kicking off, a poor touch incited Chiefs fans to boo and demand a substitution. Now if you support a team, booing and jeering is going to undermine the confidence of the players. I can understand why the club would send out these messages. Yet, what right do they have to expect these fans to conform? After all, it's the fans who buy the tickets and spend too much on over-priced merchandise. They've paid to be entertained and if the team isn't performing, you're not get your money's worth.

But who is right? Should the clubs simply expect blind loyalty from fans when they treat them as consumers and throw out expensive tat for them to gobble up? Some can separate 'team' from 'club', such as Manchester United fans who "Love United. Hate Glazers", but surely fans who deny their club a valuable revenue stream are damaging their team?

Maybe Simon Kuper is right, that football is just a job or business. Maybe we shouldn't have sympathy for those fans who complain about the state of the global game and then proceed to buy yet another replica shirt, myself included? Maybe we have the game that we deserve?

N.B. As I published this, Kaizer Chiefs have publicly condemned the booing fans from Saturday's game. The club's Facebook page has stated that "The Club will not tolerate this behaviour and perpetrators will be identified and dealt with accordingly." Will be they really be able to do this?

Back to normality?

Afcon 2013 is no more. Last night, South Africa’s Premier Soccer League restarted, but with a whimper as Mamelodi Sundowns and Kaizer Chiefs played to a dour 0-0 stalemate at Loftus Versfeld in Pretoria. With seven of Bafana’s regulars in Chiefs’ starting eleven, fatigue appeared to play a part in a slow, plodding performance with some very poor decision making. Sundowns were the stronger side for the first half but neither side created many clear-cut chances.

Reacquainting myself with old friends and new

The game did not match the anticipation of the fans, who were eagerly awaiting the resumption of league football. Fans were still streaming in as the second half commenced, a combination of hectic traffic jams between Jo’burg and Pretoria, and fans leaving it until the last minute to make the journey. Still, with Chiefs supporters outnumbering Sundowns by at least two to one, it didn’t seem like an away game, although with Chiefs’ nationwide support, no game is an away game. 

The "home" fans

It was my first PSL game since I left South Africa in 2009, and two things struck me. Firstly, either the fans have got richer or the clubs are fleecing the fans for even more. I already knew about the ticket price hikes; it cost R20 for most Chiefs games in 2009 but last night cost R40 (£2.80). The price of food and drink had also risen by R5-10 but given the increase in food prices generally, this too was unsurprising. Yet, so many Chiefs fans appear have smartphones and tablets. When I wrote my thesis, such displays of wealth were at these games were rare. Not any more (and who in their right mind takes an iPad to a football match?).  I’ve previously complained about the high price of merchandise but I was shocked to be told by one fan that the Chiefs’ training jersey allegedly costs the princely sum of R800 (£57)! Yet as this fan said, “they know we will still pay for it”. Being a football supporter in South Africa is becoming an increasingly exclusive pastime.

South African football may not be the best but the fans know how to get dressed up

Secondly, in many PSL games that I went to during 2008-9, I often found myself as the token white guy in the crowd. People would want to have their photo taken with me, call me umlungu (Zulu for white person, although it has negative connotations) or just stare at me. This still happened last night but I was far from the only one. The World Cup and Afcon 2013 may yet have a positive legacy in South Africa football.

Taking bread to matches signifies beating the opposition as their daily bread but I can't for the life of me think what the significance of this is...

Afcon 2013 Videos

I've finally found the video clips of Afcon 2013 on my camera. Here's a little slice of what it was like at the tournament.

1.) South African fans getting irate at the score-bore between Bafana and Cape Verde.

2.) The closing ceremony starts but it's difficult to see the pitch.

3.) Despite going 1-0 down in the final, the Burkinabé drum and dance relentlessly.

4.) Final whistle goes, Nigeria run onto the pitch and the crowd celebrate.

Like the World Cup should have been

In the couple of days leading up to the Afcon final, street vendors began to appear selling Burkina Faso and Nigeria flags. This was far from the mass scale of flag-selling during the World Cup but it was still a sign that the Afcon party was belatedly infecting Johannesburg.

Want a flag?

Even the metro cops were joining in

Having made the decision to turn up extremely early to avoid the traffic chaos that I had experienced earlier in the tournament, my friend Chris and I arrived with a little less than four hours until kickoff. Even at this point, crowds were slowly streaming into the stadium precinct. Flags, vuvuzelas, body paint, makarapas, whistles and singing created a buzz. The vast majority of people were supporting Nigeria. This is perhaps unsurprising considering the large Nigerian community in the city, especially in the central areas of Hillbrow and Berea. What was surprising was the number of South Africans also supporting the Super Eagles. Crime and criminality have become associated with Nigerians living in the city and it is all too easy for people to blame 'Nigerians' for the city's problems. This football match appeared to turn this association upside down; being Nigerian or associating with Nigeria had become a positive thing, if only temporarily.

Nigerian fans already in party mode

African media agencies pounce on the partygoers

Walking towards the spectacular stadium, it was quickly apparent that this was unlike the World Cup almost three years previously. As football fans, we had been promised an African World Cup (whatever that entailed). After all, we had been repeatedly told that "It's Africa's Turn" and that South Africa would show the world what Africa had to offer. Instead, we were met with the bland, commercialised environment in which we could only consume official sponsors' products. Despite the introduction of cheaper category four tickets for South Africans, high ticket prices barred many of the domestic football supportership from participating. The local flavour of the tournament had been reduced to vuvuzelas. As one of my research informants summarised, "this could be anywhere!"

Sorry mate but Tunisia didn't qualify

I bet they did

This time was different. Cheaper tickets must have been a factor, allowing those who could be a part of the World Cup to engage, to experience and to celebrate. The final was a dream for the proponents of the Rainbow Nation. People of different races, ethnicity, class and gender were socialising with one another, dancing, cheering and blowing vuvuzelas together. Yet it was more than that. Whether their team had reached the final or not, the vast array of different African football shirts and flag signalled an wider belonging to Africa. Zambia, Ethiopia, Tunisia, DR Congo, Somalia and Tanzania were just a small number of those I saw.

Firestarters after Nigeria score

Police and stewards 'leap' into action

The bland hot dogs of the World Cup had been replaced with the pap and steak and boerwors rolls, staple foods at domestic matches (although prices had skyrocketed - Afcon final premium I guess. I paid R50 for my pap and steak). The small group of Burkinabé near me drummed from start to final whistle, giving the tournament the beat that had been lacking. Despite their team never recovering from going 1-0 down, they carried on drumming and dancing throughout; an impressive effort. I had been given a giant inflatable orange hand, which I used to hi-five anyone who would let me. Three-quarters of the stadium erupted just before half time when Nigeria went ahead. Some idiots set off a flare, which forced the South African Police Service (who attempted to look casual and sporty in their tracksuits) to 'leap' into action. Despite going through five roadblocks to get to the stadium, the security checks on fans walking in were inconsistent at best. A feeble, half-hearted pat down from a steward would do little to detect things such as flares. This constantly happens at local games; my favourite is still seeing someone pull out a full bottle of whisky from his sock! Although better than the desert that made up the Mbombela pitch, the pitch at the National Stadium still resembled a beach with clouds of sand constantly kicked up by the players. A far cry from the World Cup. 

The Burkinabé supplied the beat

Pitch or beach?

And this creates a problem. I've fallen into the trap of comparing a westernised, modern, slick, commercialised World Cup with the chaotic yet dynamic African tournament. I'm not sure how to extricate myself from this other than to continue digging my hole with my romanticism of the final. It was vibrant, a celebration of African football, and a welcoming atmosphere. Most of all, it was fun.

The game wasn't bad either.

Nigeria fans in celebration

Nigeria prays in celebration as a tiny spaceship descends...

The inevitable traffic chaos ensued after the game as thousands of people tried to get home as quickly as possible, but this didn't seem to matter so much this time.

Nigeria celebrating on the big screen

The final party

Yet, as I drove to work this morning, the newspaper headlines attached to most Jo'burg streetlights were not about the final but Manchester United extending their lead at the top of the English Premier League. Is the 2013 Africa Cup of Nations already being forgotten?

The non-return of Football Fridays

I was driving home from work this evening when over the radio came an advert for Football Fridays, telling listeners to wear their Bafana or other African jerseys to celebrate the 2013 Africa Cup of Nations in the country and support the national team. I was surprised when I heard this as it had taken until semi-final day for this to reach me. Now I haven't had my fingers in my ears or my eyes closed throughout this tournament so to only find out about this now is indicative of the weak interest in the Afcon. This was designed to get South Africans 'behind the boys' but the lack of evidence of this happening reveals the muted reaction that the tournament has received, at least here in Johannesburg.

Rewind to the 2010 World Cup and Football Fridays were a much different phenomenon. The initiative created by the Southern Sun hotel chain and subsequently endorsed by the tournament's organising committee, encouraged all South Africans to wear their Bafana jerseys to work on Fridays leading up to the World Cup. While designed to foster a nationwide support for Bafana, it actually reinforced divisions. The official Adidas shirts ranged from R300 to R1000 but those who couldn't afford it/ didn't want to spend that much turned to the vibrant black market in pirated, unofficial Bafana shirts. Football Fridays were a visible success with Bafana shirts seemingly everywhere on Fridays. In the aftermath of the tournament, Football Fridays became "Fly the Flag Fridays in which South Africans were encouraged to continue wearing their Bafana shirts although this quickly flopped.

 

Today, the attempted resurrection of Football Fridays has been the brainchild of Lead SA. The problem has been that there has not been the level of anticipation in the build up to the Afcon as there was for the World Cup, which had built up a critical mass of hype beforehand. It turns out that this time around, the initiative was dead in the water before it was launched.

Still, I shall belatedly enter into Football Friday and wear my Bafana shirt this Friday. Any excuse not to dress smart...

Just like watching England play

Over the weekend, we found out which nations will be competing in the semi-finals of the 2013 Africa Cup of Nations. While Nigeria shocked favourites Cote d'Ivoire, the more significant result from a Jo'burg perspective was South Africa's penalty shoot-out defeat to Mali. Prior to the tournament, South Africa wasn't fancied to progress far. After all, they had failed to qualify for the 2010 and 2012 editions and were only in this one courtesy of being hosts. The form book wasn't favourable and coach Gordon Igesund had only been with the side for six months. Still, after a sluggish (and very boring) start against Cape Verde, signs of improvement were clearly visible in the win against Angola and the battling draw against Morocco. We learned that Dean Furman and Itemelung Khune should be playing at a higher level.

With Bafana's progression out of their group came the overenthusiastic, and sometimes wildly over-optimistic, dreams of grandeur and success that many football fans go through, no matter how irrational. Instead of apathy or a quiet acceptance of Bafana's "inevitable" exit from the group stage, a belief that Bafana could win it emerged, and with that came the comparisons of the Afcon-winning side of 1996. Maybe it was fate that South Africa should win it again on home soil? From nowhere, street vendors had started selling South African flags, which had clearly not been the case earlier in the tournament. Bafana shirts were more visible than before.

What encapsulated this was ticket sales for the semi-final in Durban, in which Bafana would have featured had they beaten Mali. The day before the Mali match, over 30,000 tickets had already been sold and a much larger crowd than in many of the previous games this tournament. A friend had persuaded me to get tickets for this game should Bafana qualify. Four hours before the quarter final, I headed to my local Spar to get these tickets. When I got to the front of the queue, I found out that the ticket machine only had 33 tickets left in it. It turns out that Spar do not hold spare reams of tickets in store but instead have to get someone from the ticketing company to load their machines for them. This supply wasn't going to last very long and the extremely flustered shop assistant was only going to get more fraught.

Worse still. When I asked for tickets for the Durban semi-final, they had all been sold out. Clearly, there were enough people with blind faith in Bafana that they were prepared to gamble on them progressing further. Spare a thought for these people. Mali versus Nigeria could be a great fixture but when you're banking on your team playing, it's going to be an anti-climax. I wonder how many will actually attend this game?? With Bafana out, the atmosphere is flat but hopefully the remaining matches can still be a celebration of the best of African football.

So, Bafana were subject to wildly unrealistic expectations and got knocked out on penalties. It's just like watching England play...