South Korea 2 Nigeria 2 Durban
The day broke bright and sunny, yet again; certainly one could not have asked for better weather. I spent a pleasant morning at my computer, with the window shades wide open to the lovely sea view.
The afternoon was set for exploring Durban. The central business district looks like Johannesburg, mostly run down and very crowded. Also, Durban has extensive port facilities, plus warehouses and industrial sites. Outside these areas, especially along the coast, north and south Durban has a coastal Florida feel, and is quite pleasant.
An interesting sociological feature is the luxury automobile dealers located on Durban’s north side. The facilities are quite significant scale, not simply small offices, and all within the city limits. The location is only a few minute’s drive from the seedier Durban areas. The contrast is sharp. There is significant poverty here, yet clearly substantial economic opportunity as well.
I did a Durban driving tour, stopping only to briefly view a couple beaches. The nice beaches start rather closely to the central business, port and industrial districts. The stadium is near such beaches.
Well before 4:00pm, I decided to head back for an early dinner and that day's 4:00pm game, South Africa v France . I was downtown in the seedier area. The traffic was very thick, with the private transportation vans everywhere. The travel time back to the hotel was eventually so long, I gave up on seeing the first half.
However, World Cup radio coverage is abundant. We even listened to games in Kruger National Park. Games are broadcast in English, Afrikans and tribal languages. We identified three different English radio commentators, who seemed to take turns broadcasting games, one British, one South African white and one South African black. The South African black was the most colorful. At first his African accent so thick we were unsure he was speaking in English. However, we grew used to his accent. He became so excited calling his matches, frequently shouting as a goal-scoring opportunity materialized, that his games always seemed like the most compelling in history. For we all knew, a TV broadcast of the same game would have been totally boring.
A British radio announcer did the South Africa game. To advance, Bufana Bufana needed a miracle, Mexico to lose to Uruguay and South Africa to win, all by a margin of at least five goals. Plus, France was the opponent. “No way, too bad,” I thought.
However, in fact there was hope. As poorly as the previous game had gone, South Africa came out like world champions, overwhelming France and going up 2 – 0, with numerous other scoring chances. Meanwhile, Mexico was losing to Uruguay. “Am I witnessing a miracle, the South African people have willed?”, I wondered.
I parked my car at the hotel and walked (yes!) just 15 minutes a nearby shopping center, where buses went to the stadium. In the shopping complex, I found a tavern. The management was Indian descent, prevalent in Durban. My meal was lamb, with several vegetables plus rice. Rather good. Most patrons were African, representative of the significant, and hopefully growing, African middle class.
When Bufana Bufana had a scoring opportunity, people jumped to their feet, shouting with anticipation, and raising their arms. When no goal occurred, they collapsed back in their seats, groaning and muttering.
Alas, no miracle was in the offing. Indeed Mexico lost, but time ran out on the nation’s heroes. No more goals came, but reality did. South Africa did not qualify for the next round. A virtual black cloud over the entire populace was palpable. “Mightly Casey had struck out.”
Nevertheless, World Cup life went on. I went outside and the buses were right there! Could World Cup commuting life be so grand? Pretoria, again? No.
The stadium was only about a 15-minute drive. My bus approached the stadium, which has a soaring arch and looks spectacular in the night lights. I hoped the bus would turn in, but I was not the least surprised when the vehicle kept going…and going….and going, past the stadium. Finally, the bus turned back toward the stadium and drove into an area where other buses were waiting.
Yes, we got off the first bus and boarded a second bus, which took us to the stadium vicinity. From that point, people walked 15 to 20 minutes to the stadium gates. There is a beautiful new six-lane divided stadium approach road. Since the whole complex is new, there was ample space to build bus platforms near the stadium, like Rea Vaya at Soccer City. The stadium builders had not taken advantage of this opportunity.
I had an epiphany. These World Cup parking/bus schemes could only he developed in the Extreme Sadism Ward of the national insane asylum. That was the only sane explanation: irrational human beings designed the system.
Not to be outdone, the stadium designers had their own wrinkle. The new facility is indeed quite nice, but nothing compares with Johannesburg Soccer City. Durban’s stadium’s sections only have one aisle bordering each section. Thus my seat numbered one was in the middle of a long row. The good news was the 30-yard-line location, just to the left and behind the player benches, 19 rows up.
The teams were warming up when I entered. Nigeria wore its traditional green with white trim; Korea wore navy blue pants with white tops, a combination I had never seen.
Nigeria has a whole team of wonderful athletes, even more than other African sides. Indeed, for years many people, most notably Pele, have predicted great things for Nigeria. However, Nigeria has not yet realized its promise, akin to all of Africa. Indeed, if anything, Nigeria is going backwards. The current team is not as strong as past sides. In 2006, Nigeria did not even qualify for the World Cup.
Just as the World Cup is an institution of contrasts, while all play the same game, Korea could not be more different than Nigeria. On the field, Korean teams usually perform to the extent their natural talent allows. This game was no exception. Korea played well and lead most of the game.
Rather few Koreans had made the trip. That surprised me, as Koreans are generally tough-minded, determined people, and emigrate all over the world. Indeed the crowd was overwhelmingly South African. As always, they vocally supported the African team. Any past African conflicts are forgotten, at least for this World Cup in Africa.
No mater the crowd loyalties, though Korea outplayed Nigeria overall, and the teams skirmished to the end, a draw resulted. Nothing new about FIFA tie games.
Following the game, I hiked out to the bus pick-up point. I saw people walking past, and suspected they knew where the first bus stop was located, less than a mile away. I wanted to join them, but I was not sure where I was going, and it was dark and late. “Discretion is the better part of valor”…..particularly in strange cities.
Despite the 15 minutes driving distance, I spent two hours getting home. World Cup BUS-ted again.
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