Friday, June 18, 2010:
On Wednesday, Bafana Bafana – the nickname for the South African national team – was playing right down the street from our place. We had set our eyes on taking part in what we expected to be quite a party.
To prepare, we go to the mall, where they of course have a grocery store. We buy ham, cheese, salami, wine, bread, cookies, crackers, chips, beer and even fruit (really) – you know, the essentials for a group of guys on vacation.
At 5 pm we begin our walk to the ATM – we’re thinking it may be more than $40 for a scalped ticket the game with the locals playing.
The South African fans are not the standard hyper, loud, and energized fans that are often associated with many of the traditional 'soccer' countries. That said, they are clearly pumped for this game, and in their own way, showing their excitement.
Three hours from kickoff Brett, Clint, and Ryan pony up the cash to a couple of English scalpers to assure themselves a place inside. Myself and the other three are not ready to commit to the asking price, so we walk back to town and find a very inexpensive bar for a couple of rounds.
Before we left, we approached two South Africans who said they had tickets. One thing to clarify is that, while there are tickets for sale, it seems that everyone is scared to sell, at least in Pretoria.
When we see little clusters of people – obviously making offers – we quickly see police approach the group. Then watch as a South African walks away, holding his ticket high to show the police that it’s his ticket and he’s going in. He is still confronted and often times even frisked.
So the two guys we approach have two single tickets. They ask if we’re going to arrest them. Wow! I ask if the tickets real. One confirms but walks away. He then looks back and takes a couple steps closer, sees Jimmy and Corey walking towards me, and says the tickets are not for sale. It’s obvious he’s scared. I tell Jim to turn around to show his USA jacket, trying to comfort the guys. It doesn’t work. No sale.
We return from the bar since the few number of sellers means they can keep prices way up - more than we want to pay. Yes, it would be cool to see the game, but the four of us have a good time anyway, and we have many others games we're hoping to catch in the next couple of weeks.
As we return to the bar we had just left, we notice how quiet the streets are. It’s because everyone is inside one of the many restaurants and bars in this area. We watch the first half, kind of, 'cause we couldn’t find a good spot.
I sit next to a South African black man on a picnic table, wearing a Nebraska jacket. He explains that he’s from Johannesburg, but sold his ticket for tonight. I ask for how much, and he tells me “not much.”
I don’t quite understand why not, so I ask. He says it was to a foreigner, and the guy was desperate to get in to the game, so this South African felt bad and sold him his ticket. 'Wow.' I say. At this point, a white girl sitting at another table in front turns – she’d obviously been listening in.
“Why is that a problem that he does not make money and sells his ticket? It’s South African hospitality. That fan traveled a long way to visit our country and go to matches.”
Very interesting perspective!
Unfortunately South Africa lost, so the city is kind of deflated.
However for us, the night ends late - very late - and we had already said that we’d be up early on Thursday to drive to Johannesburg with the hopes of getting into the Argentina vs. South Korea game at the new and massive Soccer City stadium.
Two of us make the 7 am call; the others, not quite. We are on the road by 10:30, most moving very slowly.
The hour-long trip takes longer because there is so much traffic. There is clearly an attempt being made by everyone to make the game experience smooth. However some things that perhaps we take for granted back home, stand out here. For instance, signage. You can follow a sign to the stadium – but once off the exit ramp, and with the option of turning left or right, you may not see another stadium sign again, so you guess. Or, as happened to us, when one traffic police person tells us to stop at an intersection, and another other across the way is waving us to drive. We’re stuck in the middle of a decision, watching the two argue.
Anyway, we park in a casino parking lot and approach the police at the end of the road to ask how to walk to the stadium. ALL of them tell us no, it’s too far and too dangerous. We walk to the free buses and are on our way, arriving at the stadium 45 minutes from kickoff.
It’s really the first facility I’ve seen that has World Cup written all over it. It’s the size of any large stadium in the U.S., with huge parking lots and long sidewalks that lead up to it. It’s also far from anything, so the transport buses keep driving in unloading passengers.
After a few photos, Brett and I buy two tickets at face value from a Canadian guy that is decked out in Argentina gear. Curtis, Clint, and Ryan find three tickets at a little less. And quickly we find two tickets at even less for Corey and Jimmy. We’re all in!
My seats were actually great, right at about midfield but high up. We see the two huge flags the Koreans unveil during their anthem. Amazing. One flag was at least 55 yards wide.
There are a ton of Argentina fans in the stadium, most attempting to start the popular songs and chants. It’s unfortunate that there are so many vuvuzelas that drown out any such attempt at a normal soccer chant. Still, at one point, the blue-and-white fans fight through and can be heard. They are mostly downstairs.
Halfway through the first half, Jimmy texts us to let us know there are plenty of seats around him. We join them for the second half, in the corner of the lower level, in the middle of a large group of Argentines.
There are many “No Smoking” signs in the stadium, but apparently that means nothing in this section. The Argentina fans don’t sit, and exact seat locations are also a meaningless thing – this makes it easy for us to jump in.
“Vamos, vamos, Argentina. Vamos, Vamos, a ganar.” It starts – and I’m jumping around pumping hands in the air, as are Jimmy, Corey, and Brett.
“Se mueva para aca, se mueve para alla.” (And we move over here, and we move over there)…And we hop a few places to the right, then back to the left.
“Es un sentimiento, no puedo parar!” (It’s a feeling, I cannot contain)…singing non-stop waiving anything you have in a circular motion high up.
As I jump around and watch the game, I have flashbacks to 1994, when my parents took my brothers, sister, and me to Boston for three Argentina World Cup games. The irony to look to my side and have three American buddies - also at their first Argentina game - standing in their places and having as much fun. Not the same, of course, but enjoyable and memorable just the same.
BTW - Argentina crushed South Korea 4-1 behind Gonzalo Higuain's hat trick.
