Inflatable kangaroos, cheese dogs and metal giraffes

In the car on the way to Nelspruit for the Australia v Serbia game yesterday morning, there was an Englishman, a South African supporting England, a South African who had lived in England and a South African who would rather watch paint dry than watch an England game. At one point in the journey, we became concerned that England manager Fabio Capello might have gone AWOL:

Capello travelling in the wrong direction

Forced to open the emergency beer supply when we reached our log cabin 40km outside Nelspruit, we were soon back on the road into the city to watch the England v Slovenia game before going to the stadium. Walking into the pub, we realised that were in a tiny minority; the place was swarming with Australians. None of us had envisaged that football/ soccer was so popular in Oz and were surprised to see so many Socceroos fans.

 Spot the England fan (who then put on an Australia jacket...)

Instead of following the masses, we were adopted by the small number of Serbian fans; my friend's knowledge of some Serbian swearwords and his Nemanja Vidic t-shirt only endeared us to them.  Once we got talking to them, we became confused by their Australian accents. Some of them were Serbs living in Australia, supporting their country of birth against their country of residence although they had absolutely no problems with this.

 Improving Anglo-Serb relations

God Save the Queen played out over the speakers as the players lined up. Standing in front of the TV, I was belting the anthem out only for me to realise that few people were singing along with me. I looked up to see a pub full of Aussies staring at me in amusement. I was equally amused to see a couple of them joining in with me. The Serbs explained to us that they wouldn't usually support someone who has bombed them (!!) such as the US but seeing as were going to support Serbia that evening, they were willing to return the favour and make an exception for us. Relief at the final whistle turned to frustration as news that Landon Donovan had scored deep in injury time for the US to beat Algeria 1-0. It was wasn't so much that this meant that the US had finished top of the group (although that was annoying) but that it meant that England would not be featuring in the quarter final at Soccer City for which I have tickets. I was not a happy man.

Taking the park and ride bus to the stadium, the four of us sat at the back. Admittedly with a few beers inside us, we started out with chants of "SER-BI-A! SER-BI-A! SER-BI-A!" From this, we thought it would be a 'good' idea to pretend to be Serbian, having conversations in a pretend language while pretending to understand this nonsense! Our attempts at a Serbian accent was less Serbian and more Borat but we were still fooling the locals. Bursting into a rousing rendition of Shosholoza was met with incredulity by the other passengers with the man in front in shock, exclaiming: "They know Shosholoza!" As far as he was concerned, the Serbians had made the effort to learn some of their culture, oblivious to the truth. We continued in our broken Serb-lish with Borat accents to chant anything to do with South Africa: "BA-FA-NA! BA-FA-NA! PI-EN-AAR! PI-EN-AAR! MO-KOEN-A MO-KOEN-A!" The passengers were loving our enthusiasm. We were clearly a hit!

Leaving our alter egos at the stadium gate, we sampled the culinary delights on offer in the stadium. Our choice was between hot dogs, cheese dogs and chili dogs. Whether these had ever seen an animal before was dubious and combined with the cheap white bread, it made us feel sick rather than satisfied. We did find a stall selling boerewors rolls at an inflated price but it was too late. We also refused to queue for 30 minutes for a well-known watery American beer. It really does destroy the South African identity of match day.

 Mmmmmmm! Tasty...

Mbombela Stadium from the outside is very impressive with the support struts made to look like giraffes while the seats inside are arranged in a zebra print. I only hope that the tourists realise that there's more to South Africa than animals.

 

Mbombela Stadium, Nelspruit

The Aussie fans heavily outnumbered the Serb fans. Most just had scarves and flags but inflatable kangaroos were also popular. Not conforming to stereotypes now, aren't they?! If only there had been an Aussie fan in a prison jumpsuit...

 Skippy the inflatable kangaroo

The game itself was secondary to everything around it. In the first half, stewards had to get the police in to calm down the hardcore Serbian fans who refused to sit in the correct seats. The stewards were helpless and just flapped around until the police came. It was a shame as it killed a little of the atmosphere where I was sitting. Was great to be sitting on the front row though.

 Serb fans before kick off

How Serbia lost that game I don't know, although a goal incorrectly ruled offside and an Australian handball in their area that was missed might have had something to do with it. A couple of Serb fans really did not like the outcome of the match and started shouting abuse at their players. One player had clearly had enough of this and came over with the intent of starting a fight although nothing came of it. Both teams were knocked out of the tournament, with Ghana and Germany progressing from the group. While Serb fans were despondent...

 A solitary, depressed Serbian fan

... the Aussies were in more jubiliant mood as the players did a lap of the pitch, thanking their supporters for making the long journey.

 Aussie fans staying behind to cheer their team

Cheers to the guys who I travelled with for an awesome road trip!

Drunken mutterings on talkSPORT

I woke up on Saturday morning to a text message from a friend of mine seemingly discussing England's team selection for the USA match. Imagine my surprise when I found out that he had a spare ticket and was giving it to me!!

 My first England ticket

On the approach to Rustenburg, traffic ground to a virtual standstill still with many miles to go to the stadium. Contending with idiots who were driving up the emergency lane in a stupid attempt to get their car a couple of hundred metres further, progress was extremely slow. We had left hours before kickoff but as the clock ticked past the minutes and then the hours, the horrifying thought that we would miss some of the game dawned on us. Groups of traffic cops talking to each other in the middle of the road and then directing us in a different direction to what the signs said didn't help matters. So many people had parked on the roadside up to the stadium rather than find their car park in a desperate bid to get inside on time. We managed to find a car park (not ours though) and dashed inside, dodging already drunken fans. Sat in my seat with 10 minutes to spare!

 The legend who gave me my ticket!!!

This was my first England football game and I was stunned to see the Royal Bafokeng Stadium covered in England flags. The media here has constantly told us that the US has the largest contingent of supporters that have come over for the World Cup but this really wasn't evident that night. As the national anthem struck up I was expecting a massive swell of song but it didn't materialise. I then realised that many of the England fans here must have been South Africans, who didn't know the words. Throughout the game, I could hear the section of hardcore England supporters singing and chanting. Amusing at first, hearing Come on England! on a loop for 5 minutes became more annoying than having a vuvuzela blown in your ear.

 Spot the American fans...

The stadium/ I went crazy when Steven Gerrard scored the opener. England had the ascendancy for much of the first half, although the usual defensive frailties were exposed by the pace of the American attack. The Americans created some chances and Jozy Altidore really should have scored but thankfully he chose to head wide. And then came the howler. My seat was perfectly placed to witness this calamity in all its glory; on the goal line, front row of the second tier. It was as if it was in slow motion, Rob Green's arms scrambling to get hold of the ball. B@!!ocks! The silver lining was that a friend had bought 12 beers for four of us; I had five in quick succession. England had the best of the second half but failed to convert chances, Emile Heskey the major culprit.

 My personal beer supply

In hindsight, the result was nothing more than a minor setback and by this point there were plenty of drunken England fans who just wanted to party. As we were leaving the stand, a talkSPORT journo came up to my very confused friend (he wore and USA jacket with an England scarf). I walked up and declared:

"You do know he's not American?"

"Of course I do" and he turned his big fluffy microphone to me.

"So are you just here for the World Cup?"

Instead of just answering yes, I rambled on about how I used to live in Johannesburg. He eventually got me to just say yes. I don't remember exactly what he asked me now; it all disappeared in a drunken haze. Something about how I felt about the result (it's not the end of the world) and the turning point in the game (Green's howler). I also muttered something about Emile Heskey playing like a donkey. Through all this, I was fascinated how this guy seemed to be engrossed in what I was saying, vigorously nodding his head like a dog wags his tail.

Drunk and delusional England fans on holiday

If the traffic was bad getting in, it was a disaster trying to get out. As a host venue in last year's Confederations Cup, the park and ride system ran fairly smoothly and was much better than Johannesburg. Maybe they rested on their laurels as chaos ensued. Limited/ conflicting signage, police telling us to head off in the wrong direction only for us to get stuck in traffic for ages. Crowds of people lined the streets as they searched for their buses. The tourists were completely clueless as to what was going on, getting in queues in the hope that they would eventually lead to their bus. They're going to have to realise soon that not everyone around the world has the same predilection towards queuing that the English have! The priceless moment was when one England fan said that he was "waiting for the white van" to take him back where he came from. He had no clue where that was and clearly did not grasp that all the minibus taxis looked the same. I guess that he was one of the fans that were still stuck at the stadium at 2am...

I

I ran down the stand to get a picture with Captain America!

Paul - you are a legend for giving me that ticket!! I know that you claimed you were neutral but I saw how you reacted when Heskey shot straight at Howard!

I wouldn't put my money on England winning the World Cup (but I'd like them to prove me wrong)

As I settled into my morning procrastination at my desk, I came across this article about Rio Ferdinand, England and 1966 omens, rolled my eyes and just groaned. I'm getting fed up with so-called experts claiming that it could be England's year (just like 2006 was going to be England's year, and 2002, and 1998, and come to think of it every year). Why do so many Englishmen fall into the trap of believing that we are far better than we actually are? England may have been the birthplace of modern association football and largely responsible for its proliferation around the globe, but the end of English football dominance was marked long ago in 1953 with the 6:3 loss to Hungary and the 7-1 defeat in the reverse fixture six months later. Would England have won the World Cup in 1966 if it had been hosted anywhere else. Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski, authors of "Why England Lose & Other Curious Football Phenomena Explained" don't believe so as playing at home is statistically significantly advantageous. Since 66, England have only managed two semi-finals, one of which was at home in 96 and in 1990 they won only two games in normal time. It's time to realise that while England has arguably the strongest domestic league in the world, the national team is simply a good team with a couple of world class players rather than a world class team. England just aren't in the same class as Brazil or Spain. While I don't necessarily agree with all of Kuper and Szymanski's methods (how can a draw be classed as half a win? A win gets three times as many points), their analysis emphasise that England are consistently good but not great; usually a top ten team. Reaching the quarter finals of the last few major tournaments reflects such a standing and their eighth place in the current world rankings suggest another quarter final exit. I wouldn't say that was a bad result but I guess that there'll be a lot people that won't agree.

For all my moaning, come June 12th when England play the US in their first game, I know that I will be wearing my new England shirt, watching the game in a fan park in Johannesburg, suspending all rational thought and succumbing to the belief that maybe, just maybe, it'll be England's year. I can't help it...