Gaga Over Bafana

Friday 11 June 2010

A homesick Spike goes gaga over Bafana ... investing emotionally to the hilt in the World Cup due to the profoundly disturbing effect on his brain caused by a severe dirth of surf.

Starved of surf, sitting in rainy Boston, it was a bitter pill to swallow watching the opening concert, ceremony and match of the soccer World Cup so far from my home.

The jubilation and pride created by Tutu's tremulous invocation to Madiba (concert), the dazzling blast of colour at Soccer City (ceremony) and Tshabala's scorching bullet against Mexico in the first match, were brutally crushed by the comeback that made it 1-1. Critics will lament it as a typically African lapse in concentration - the defenders hoodwinked after a short corner kick.

But oh, what genius by Tshabalala: "My goodness what a fantastic goal for South Africa and what a way to open the scoring for the 2010 world cup," said the British commentator. Get a life yer pommie bastard. "My goodness"? "Fantastic"? You invented the language. Come on! Those are euphemisms dude. What about "fokken tit", "my ma se moer maar dit was bliksem se mooi", "laduma enkhulu", "off-the-charts sick", "e mangalisayo", "breathtakingly epic" or just plain "frikken brilliant"?

Whatever you call it, yebo yes, it was a scintillating bend-it-like-Beckham missile that detonated in the corner, and millions erupted in a glazed-eyed frenzy of beer-fuelled carnage across the country, in noisy taverns, heaving fan zones, behind televisions around the world, or in the space-ship stadium of Soccer City itself.

Ayta Bafana, Viva!

And 1-1 it stayed til the end. Some might say the true result was 2-1 after the offside call against Mexico. But after-match analysts agreed that it was correct. When the goalie comes off his line, the attacking team needs two opposing defenders behind the goalie for the goal to stand. One defender on the line was enough for the call against Mexico. Something I didn't know, but there you go. Mexicans will be pissed. I would be, good call or not.

But all in all, a deeply satisfying start to the first world cup in Africa, and in the eyes of some commentators, the most amazing yet.

Acccording to the FIFA official I heard on a BBC radio broadcast after the concert last night, the quality of the stadia built in South Africa had surpassed all other countries in previous World Cups. Strangely, i was listening to this in a borrowed Toyota Prius hybrid outside Peabody School, Cambridge, Massachusetss, at 11.30pm waiting for my 14-year-old son's coach to arrive from Washington DC, where the Grade 8s had been on a school trip.

On top of that, the official was speaking from a soccer-befok South Africa at the precise moment the Boston Celtics were fighting back to level their best-of-seven basketball final series at 2-2 against the LA Lakers in the NBA.

Needless to say, Bostonians were otherwise occupied. Celtics Schmeltics.

My friend covering the match live in the press box at Soccer City in Soweto said it all: "The players have just come out for warm-ups, and in the stands everyone's truly rockin'. Vibe is quite indescribable, actually."

The plaintive and sometimes condescending, almost racist bleating about the buzzing bees of the vuvuzelas were soon drowned in the national euphoria of the moment.

The World Cup in South Africa will be third time lucky in nation-building following the Rugby World Cup in 1995 and the country's first democratic election in 1994. The achievements of Bafana, while it would be nice, is superflous to the wider national good.

The mere existence of this global showpiece is already third time lucky. 

Pressure is off Bafana Bafana!

Now go score some goals.

Viva!