Tuesday, June 21, 2010:
On Saturday night, Curtis, Jimmy and I were able to score tickets for the Cameroon vs. Denmark game here in Pretoria. It was my 30th all-time World Cup game, a number I realize as we walked out of the stadium that night.
It was the third game we had attempted to scalp at this stadium, which as I’ve mentioned is in our neighborhood. We were all successful for the Ghana vs. Serbia game; only three got in to the South Africa vs. Uruguay match; and this time, it was three different ones that entered the game.
Unknown to me until afterwards, Curtis and a friend of his had played pro soccer in Denmark for a year right after high school, and he’s carried an affinity for the Scandinavian-side ever since – so he was probably the happiest that we got in.
We parked ourselves at a corner outside the stadium where we’d previously found success buying tickets. However, this time, there were many, many people also looking for tickets. The Cameroon fans were in some ways representing all of Africa at the World Cup, since the African teams had not done so well to date.
About 30 minutes from kickoff, a mother, father, and daughter approached us and asks if we needed tickets – they only had three. I completely botched it; handled it all wrong, I admit. The previous offers we had were for 2000 rand, which is about $260. So when she asked what I’d be willing to pay, I thought I was low-balling by saying 500 rand. She took it. I looked at the tickets and they had paid 140 rand.
In the end it didn’t matter, because we really only wanted a way into the stadium. In each of the five games we’ve been to, we’ve not yet sat where the tickets said – rather where we wanted to that had open space.
On this night, we walk around the field moat and sat in a corner, in the middle of a Cameroon section – the team known as the Indomitable Lions. It was lively, and we’re soon waving our arms in unison with them, not understanding any of the words they are saying, but making a good effort at lip-syncing. We were part of the attempted start of the Mexican wave – which looked fantastic in this stadium.
These were not our seats, but because we cheered with them, when the usher came to show others their seats (which we were sitting in), the Cameroon fans from behind were yelling at the usher to let us stay: “there are open seats over there,” they yelled, instructing where the late-comers should sit. This. Was. Awesome!
It was a great game – Cameroon had so many chances, but they couldn’t put more than one away. When they would have a corner or free kick, the vuvuzelas kicked in; the stadium sounded like a race car was coming around a bend, the buzz getting louder and louder until the kick was taken, before dying off (for a few second).
Curtis clearly liked the vibe, though he was silently hoping Denmark would score. In the second half, when Denmark took the lead, he took a quick hop off his seat but was even faster in realizing that he was not in a place to cheer for Denmark, so he sat faster than you can imagine. It was pretty damn funny!
I failed to mention we had lost one of our Wolf Pack. Ryan was on a flight back to DC that night, so our pack was down to six. It will drop a few more times over the next week, unfortunately. The other three guys had returned to the lodge, so the night ended somewhat early. We killed the day on Sunday, at first thinking we had scored tickets to Brazil vs. Ivory Coast, but then realizing we hadn’t. So we went for a steak dinner instead.
Monday comes and we’re realizing we’ve not really seen much of Africa. It’s a much different experience, this World Cup. This is a huge country, and with limited transportation and tourist options, at least around us. We’re also traveling as a larger group, and we’re always conscience of doing something we can all agree to (or at least a majority). As you may imagine, with a good group of people, no one wants to be the loud one that says, “we’re doing this.”
After breakfast we somehow decide to visit a Lion Park in Johannesburg, an animal we only saw footprints of during our safari last week. We’re told you can pet lion cubs and then drive through a safari-like habitat where lions roam free. It sounded like fun.
It was a pretty neat experience. I was optimistically hoping that these animals were being treated fairly, and not just put out here for tourist. To walk into a cage where cub lions were sleeping, and then reaching down to pet them, it was pretty damn cool, though your heart does skip a beat when a lion wakes and turns your way.
We drove ourselves into the reserve, and at one lion camp we saw 10-15 lions walking around. At one point, our car had eight lions surrounding us – with two laying on the road in front making it impossible for us to drive forward (without running them over). You can sense the power of these animals as you see them sit, stand, and then walk right next to you.
There were many signs instructing us to keep our windows up during the drive, but doing so made photos more difficult. So when the lions were at a distance, we’d roll the window down and snap some photos. I should note that there are several lion prides, separated by huge fenced and gates areas. You drive into one large reserve-type area, then drive out and head to another, if you want. In between, we saw a few giraffes wondering around - including one that wanted to get a better look at us.
Clint, sitting in the back seat, saw a lion pass by his window, and felt comfortable opening the window to take a photo as it walked in front. However, he didn’t look back, so as he begins to lean towards the window to shoot, he jumps inwards as another lion was passing by his open window.
I, sitting in front, had just begun to lower my window when I hear his fear, catching my window half down. Brett nearly pissed his pant laughing at how both Clint and I lunged toward the center of the car while reaching down at the window button with stretched out arms. Maybe you had to be there to imagine the laughter – fun stuff!!
We’re not sure what’s up for Tuesday; we’re discussing a tour of Joburg and hopefully Soweto, the nearby community where the apartheid rallies took place some many years ago. We’ll likely know after breakfast.
