South Africa-bound once more

It's been years since I last posted on this blog. It served its purpose during 2010, recording my experiences at the World Cup in South Africa and doubling as method of recording observational data for my PhD thesis. There didn't seem to be much point continuing with this blog once I had returned to the UK to write my thesis. The PhD took over my capacity to write about football, as well as my life. 100,000 words (and a few temper tantrums) later, there are now copies of it gathering dust on bookshelves. Was it worth it? I think so. How many opportunities will I get to travel to the other side of the world, meet so many different people and get to watch so much football? I fear that the answer is not many.

 

It seems a poignant time to start this blog up again after all this time. I'm currently waiting for my visa to come through for South Africa so I can start my postdoctoral research fellowship at the University of Johannesburg, which means another chance to experience the highs and lows of a Soweto Derby day, and the highs and lows of following the SA national team. There have been some issues in getting my visa but I'm hoping that it will come through in time for me to head out for the 2013 African Cup of Nations in South Africa. Three years after the World Cup, it'll be fascinating to see the legacy of the World Cup, if there has been one.

"We're not really a soccer nation". Er, yes you are...

Even on a non-football related trip to the Kruger National Park for a few days away from the chaos of Johannesburg, I couldn't escape the aftermath of the World Cup. Aside from seeing large plastic footballs adorning signposts, even as we entered the Orpen Gate into Kruger and seeing the majestic Mbombela Stadium in Nelspruit stand empty, one man struck a nerve.

Stopping off in the tourist town of Dullstrom (apparently it's the place to go fly fishing), my fellow road tripper Dan and I were having a quiet drink and a well deserved break when an Afrikaans man came up to chat to us. Unsurprisingly, we got onto the topic of the World Cup. Much had been made before the World Cup over whether Afrikaners would support the tournament and the team but in this instance, such fears seemed unfounded. Having gone to his first football match, the pre-tournament warm up between Portugal and Mozambique in Jo'burg, he was enthusiastic about watching more when he suggested that he might start to follow Manchester United. I didn't have the energy to question why he would choose an English team over a South African one. I had just driven 300 km at that point. Didn't Afrikaners hate the English? They have good reason (after all the Brits invented concentration camps). But then Man Utd is not just an English team but a global brand. Why not choose a local team, although I'm not sure he would have known who his local team was (Mpumalanga Black Aces of the PSL for those who were wondering). 

It was when he said "We're not really a soccer nation" that I had to bite my tongue. If he was referring to an Afrikaner nation, then I could understand although even within this group of South Africans there is a footballing history. However I got the impression that he was referring to South Africa as whole. Instead of jumping headfirst into an argument and pointing out to him that soccer (as it is called here) is actually the most popular sport in the country by far, historically and currently, I just smiled and nodded. It was far easier.

Grassroots football without the grass

I've discovered that the end of the World Cup does not have to be a bad thing in the world of football. After hanging out yesterday afternoon with a couple of friends in one of the shebeens in my area, we came across a local game in Malvern between two sides playing for money, something that I've come across many times before and have even participated in it (I gave up though when a striker kicked my face in - it was a 50/50 ball and as goalkeeper, I managed to pounce on it a second before he got there. OUCH!). While the pitch had goalposts and nets, there was little in the way of grass. It was a dusty, bumpy pitch with grooves in the earth to mark out the boundaries. Not something that the likes of Rooney, Ronaldo and Messi would fancy playing on!

 Give me my beer!!

 Relaxing in the shebeen

Dan was wearing his Kaizer Chiefs shirt and people thought that he might be from the club; maybe a scout ready to unearth the next Pienaar? The sight of two white Englishmen armed with their cameras confused the row of people that lined the street to watch the game. Maybe we were professional photographers or journalists? The great thing about being in the shebeen and at the football match is that people are genuinely pleased to see you. Throughout the course of my time in South Africa, I have been welcomed by people everywhere. Sometimes I've felt guilty about owning a big camera when I've been with people that have had a lot less than me but it's also proved to be a great ice breaker. So many times, I've struck up conversations with various people after taking photos of them or with them.

Faking injury isn't just an elite football problem. Apparently a bottle of water can cure an ankle injury. Who'd have thought?

Keeper completely misses the ball. Rob Green must be his role model...

As Peter Alegi blogs, getting back to grassroots football is a welcome relief for many of us after the commercialism of the World Cup. 

 The pitch was of a similar quality to Wembley

 Tiverton Town don't get many more spectators

Fly the Flag Fridays: clinging to the past

With my cynical hat now firmly back on after the euphoria of the World Cup, the latest attempts to retain some semblance of national unity post-tournament has had me rolling my eyes, shaking my head and muttering in disbelief. In the build-up to the World Cup, South Africa had "Football Fridays" where every Friday South Africans were encouraged to wear their Bafana shirts to work and/ or other national colours. In the aftermath of the tournament, Football Fridays have become "Fly the Flag Fridays" in which South Africans are encouraged to continue wearing the shirts of the various national sports teams. Apparently, Football Fridays were a success as they were "a meaningful collective experience of a lifetime". I know I moan on about this but how meaningful is it to wear a football shirt and wave a flag (today that would make me an English Kiwi)?

I first heard this on the radio one morning recently as I was driving to work. I couldn't believe this. I fail to see any substance behind this call for continued flag waving. There is no more excitement to fuel this simplistic nationalist exercise. Maybe a fraction of the populace might get excited about the Tri-Nations rugby but few are going to go out buy Springbok shirts in the same manner as Bafana shirts. Our bank balances are smarting after the World Cup. Fly the Flag Fridays seems a dismal failure anyway. Bafana shirts are difficult to spot now, the vuvuzela is silent and some of the flags adorning the highways are in a questionable state. We are reaching the death knells of hyper-nationalism, the denial stage. Clinging to the highs many got from the World Cup, many want to relive that feeling but not all good things last. Reality (whatever that is) tends to get in the way. Time to get back on with the daily grind of Jo'burg life.

And to make matters more farcical, President Jacob Zuma wants one of the SA cities to host the 2020 Olympics. Unifying the nation through fencing, archery and synchronised diving?! Or maybe as I'm not South African, I just don't get it?

Conspiracy theory of a car guard

As I pulled out of the parking space, wound down the window and tipped the car guard, he saw the England flag over on my wing mirror.

"Yoh! You boys did badly baba!", he exclaimed.

"I know. We were useless. It's been a great World Cup though".

"It was good but the referees stopped some teams who deserved it from going through. They were racist!"

"What do you mean?"

"The European referees stopped African teams from going through".

"What? Like Bafana and Ghana?" (Olegario Benquerenca of Portugal officiated at the Uruguay - Ghana match when Uruguayan striker Luis Suarez handled THAT ball off the line and Asamoah Gyan missed the subsequent penalty. I've lost count how many people claim that Swiss referee Massimo Busacca had no right to send off Bafana keeper Itumeleng Khune against Uruguay)

"Yeah, the racist referees wanted to keep Africans out. They [Europeans] want to keep football for themselves".

I wasn't in the mood to argue so I just smiled, nodded and drove off. This was supposed to be "Africa's turn" but the Europeans seem to have done a smash and grab.

Time to catch up on a month of lost sleep

It is over. Jo'burg life seems to be reverting to normal as the traffic chaos in the city centre resumes. Vuvuzelas are absent from the landscape while Bafana shirts get put back into the cupboard (perhaps never to see the light of day again?). The nationwide hangover is beginning. What can we talk about now? Conversations become awkward as people struggle to think of things to discuss. SABC told us to "Feel it. It is here!", but it no longer is. The PSL season is too far away and pre-season friendlies seem a hollow, empty replacement. Kaizer Chiefs v Eleven Arrows from Namibia just doesn't inspire me the way Ghana v Uruguay did. Manchester United v Philadelphia Union is not a patch on Germany v Argentina and I really cannot get excited about Tiverton Town v Royal Marines. Having waited years for this, I am left stumbling around trying to work out where the past month has gone.

South Africa should give itself the proverbial pat on the back for such an exciting tournament. Of course there have been a few blips but then no tournament is without problems. It has been a month-long party feeling, desperately trying to fit in work around the football. The hospitality has been so warm and friendly that it will be difficult to match in future World Cups. Jo'burg has been transformed, if only temporarily

Reading the papers yesterday morning, it was striking that so many companies had taken out full page adverts congratulating the country for hosting the tournament. It's a shameless attempt by these companies to capitalise on the success of the tournament but it's everywhere in the city; billboards, radio stations and TV. The self-congratulatory tone will continue for a while but even that will eventually disappear.

Adverts from yesterday's Sunday Times

The initial plan for yesterday was to head to Melrose Arch at lunchtime to make sure we got parking and to soak up the pre-match atmosphere. Melrose Arch is a fascinating place in Johannesburg. Set behind huge walls and numerous electric fences, it aims to create the feeling of a cosmopolitan town centre with numerous shops and restaurants lining the streets. It is in essence a city within a city. The marketing describes it as "Open spaces replace the cage and cocoon. Life pulsates on the streets once again". Yet the cage is still there, just not so readily apparent. Its fortifications prevents the surrounding city from encroaching; its street life accessible only to the socially mobile middle classes with plenty of disposable income. Gijsbert and I thought we'd try something different after being at the fan parks for other games, but after a couple of R30 beers (which is a lot in Jo'burg), our bank balances were screaming for us to leave, that and our friends were going elsewhere! In one sense it was a shame. Within the two hours that we spent there, crowds of Spanish and Dutch supporters were filling the bars and lining the streets, a mixture of tourists and locals. The exclusivity of the place created a vastly different ambiance than the experiences I've had elsewhere. Apparently, over 10,000 people were there to watch the final. But by that time, we weren't.

In the end, we ended up back at the fan park in the centre of Jo'burg, that tried and tested place. Beer was half the price of Melrose Arch and the food was cheap. It was just as packed for the final as it was for the Bafana v France match that we watched there. Regardless of it being the final, there were still stalls that were closed, an indication that the fan parks have not been as successful as it has been claimed. There must have been more Spanish fans than Dutch ones and when Andres Iniesta scored the winning goal deep into extra time, those in red began singing, dancing and blowing their vuvuzela while the Dutch fans just stood there motionless. Seeing as I was with a group of the latter (I even had a bright orange wig on), we left soon after the final whistle but I can imagine there was a big party afterwards.

The World Cup is gone for another four years but I might need most of that time to recover. I'm sitting at my desk a sleep-deprived man and finding it difficult to construct a coherent sentence together. I've had the time of my life.

Obsession with legacy

As we approach the end of the first World Cup on African soil, attention is turning to what legacy the tournament leaves for South Africa. I find myself constantly wrestling between my hopes and my cynicism. SA now has world class stadiums but who is going to use them? Many roads have been improved but are the majority who don't drive going to feel the benefits? Broadband internet capacity has increased but what good is that if you don't have access to a computer? Tourists have flocked to the country and spent their money but if you're not involved in the tourist industry, do you really benefit? The Gautrain has begun operating but this only serves a small section of Jo'burg society and the money spent could have been used upgrading the national rail network. It has been a month-long party but has it been much of a party if you still don't have access to basic sanitation and power? Every time I see a positive, negatives appear.

The issue of legacy is dominating the media at the moment. This morning, I came across this opinion piece in the Mail & Guardian by Richard Calland regarding the social legacy left by the tournament. Calland makes some salient points, especially when he says, "Apartheid schooled this country in organising things for the benefit and enjoyment of the few, at the expense of the many. The World Cup was no different from that; a First World show superimposed upon a putrid, demeaning Third World squalor". The juxtaposition of football stadium and informal settlement reminds us that very little has fundamentally changed. The search for a social cohesion in the World Cup is very a much a middle class agenda, a feel-good device that allows these people behind their "higher (electrified) walls" to wave their flags and 'be' proudly South African. Are people in the townships really as desperate to find this paper-thin unity or are there more pressing concerns? Do they feel as if they are the same as those middle class suburbanites? If anything, my experiences in the World Cup suggest class and economic divides have been reinforced.

Countering my cynical side and agreeing with Calland, I've seen people walking the streets of Jo'burg that I never thought I would see. The middle class are re-engaging with Johannesburg in a way that would have been virtually unheard of only a few months ago; taking Metrorail trains, minibus taxis and buses to the stadiums. But as my brief optimism ebbs away, I realise that we are living in a World Cup bubble that will soon be cruelly popped. I hope I'm proved wrong.

Expert? Moi?

Here's the link to the Edinburgh University article on my research and time in SA: http://www.ed.ac.uk/about/edinburgh-global/news-events/news/southafrica-300610

Again, I had no say in the title of the piece!