June 24 Day 15
Slovakia 3 Italy 2 Ellis Park
Today’s challenge was getting from Pretoria to Ellis Park Stadium in Johannesburg without a car. I thought about taking the train to Johannesburg’s Park Station, and hopping a local commuter line to Ellis Park. However, my new friend, Nathabiseng, at the hotel front desk, discouraged such venture as unsafe. Again, had it been completed, the new high speed Gautrain would have solved the problem….for the most part. There was still the issue of getting to and from the hotel and Pretoria’s train station in a safe taxi. However, Nathabiseng and Lloyd could have solved that problem
I decided not to attempt to prove I could make the train trip without incident. Nathabiseng called Lloyd again, and he agreed to drive me the 30 miles to Ellis Park, wait for me and then drive me back, all for $130. Anyway, it sure was a lot more convenient.
As we approached the expressway turnoff for Ellis Park, I pointed to the familiar yellow World Cup direction signs and suggested Lloyd could follow them. “I have been there three times,” he said. He ignored the signs, and drove on. He soon exited the highway and began driving through the downtown Johannesburg streets….and driving…and driving He stopped to ask someone how to get to the stadium. As Africans speak to each other in tribal languages (and I understand that Zulu is widely known among Africans), I did not know which stadium was discussed. Lloyd drove on. The neighborhoods became more and more seedy.
Ultimately, the environs became more wide open, looking more like the Soccer City area. I said, “Lloyd, do you understand we are going to Ellis Park, not Soccer City?” He replied, “Oh yeah, oh, Ellis Park, that is what you said.” Well, only about 20 times. This too is Africa. All told I lost about an hour. Yet again, I had to hustle through the FIFA maze to get to my seat; my destiny here, it seems.
There were legions of Italian fans, as expected. I wondered why I had seen so few Italians anywhere else.
I sat around the 35-yard spot, about 20 rows from the field, opposite and to the right of the player benches, as they look out. Two pleasant-looking male Italian fans sat to my immediate left. In the rows in front were many of the several thousand Slovakia fans, of course well out-numbered overall. I heard Slovakia’s population is only about 5,000,000.
Italy wore the blue uniforms for which they are known as “Azzurri.” Slovakia wore white.
Italy came out displaying its usual “play not to lose” game. In its prior two games, Slovakia managed a tie and a loss, with one goal total. Today they stepped up to another level. Where were these guys before? Slovakia played as a good European-style team, allowing Italy very few scoring chances. When Slovakia had its own chances, they finished well. Today belonged to Slovakia.
Slovakia scored in the first half. One of the Italian men looked at me and shook his head. I nodded sympathetically. A Slovakian fan in front of me wanted to slap my palm, in celebration. I complied; no discrimination.
A bit later, Italy put a ball into the net. The two Italian fans leaped to their feet and began cheering. Once again, I had learned to watch the referee, who stood in the penalty box, arm outstretched, pointing up the field. I made a “no good” motion with my arms. The Slovakian fan in front of me made the same motion. The Italians sat down. No goal.
In the second half, Slovakia kept hustling. With a quarter to go, they scored to go up 2 – 0. My two Italian fans looked totally disgusted. If Italy lost the game, they were out.
The Azzurri decided to play. They began attacking furiously. Where had these guys been? Within a few minutes, Italy scored. The fans came to life; the stadium turned very loud. The Italians kept attacking and attacking. They scored again…apparently. The Italians to my left jumped to their feet. I sat there, shaking my head “no.” The Italian nearest me said, “No goal?” “No goal,” I replied. No goal.
Still, the Italians were unrelenting. They kept coming and coming, more and more desperate as time ticked down to the final whistle. Slovakia managed, somehow, to fend them off. Then, with minutes to go in the game, on a throw-in play in the Italian zone, the usually astute Azzurri went to sleep. Slovakia’s Kopunek slipped free down the right side, and struck his shot home. Slovakia did not miss its chances today. For Italy, it was a wonderful final quarter, where indeed they scored a second time, to close within one, in stoppage time. However, the clock ran out on the Italians. Their fans slumped in despair. Failing to make the World Cup second round does not happen to the Azzurri…. until today.
Following the game, the Slovakian fans were delirious, while the Italians marched out sullenly. My only thought was how to find Lloyd in that post-game tumult. In the dark, the environs looked so much different. Walking several blocks, I made my way to the security barrier, many blocks from the stadium. There were numerous cars and people at that point, as no vehicles could proceed any further. I could not get Lloyd on my cell phone. Was I standing in the right place?
Suddenly, from the crowd, out stepped Lloyd. He told me he had parked his vehicle a couple blocks away. The area was dark and dilapidated. He led me to a short side street, which was particularly dark, with few people. Lloyd showed no trepidation. He was my protector, a slight, bespectacled African man around 30 years old, who exhibited all the ferocity of a junior CPA.
No matter, Lloyd knew the territory. We made it to his car and back to Pretoria without incident. Another good World Cup day, since I do not speak Italian.
Slovakia 3 Italy 2 Ellis Park
Today’s challenge was getting from Pretoria to Ellis Park Stadium in Johannesburg without a car. I thought about taking the train to Johannesburg’s Park Station, and hopping a local commuter line to Ellis Park. However, my new friend, Nathabiseng, at the hotel front desk, discouraged such venture as unsafe. Again, had it been completed, the new high speed Gautrain would have solved the problem….for the most part. There was still the issue of getting to and from the hotel and Pretoria’s train station in a safe taxi. However, Nathabiseng and Lloyd could have solved that problem
I decided not to attempt to prove I could make the train trip without incident. Nathabiseng called Lloyd again, and he agreed to drive me the 30 miles to Ellis Park, wait for me and then drive me back, all for $130. Anyway, it sure was a lot more convenient.
As we approached the expressway turnoff for Ellis Park, I pointed to the familiar yellow World Cup direction signs and suggested Lloyd could follow them. “I have been there three times,” he said. He ignored the signs, and drove on. He soon exited the highway and began driving through the downtown Johannesburg streets….and driving…and driving He stopped to ask someone how to get to the stadium. As Africans speak to each other in tribal languages (and I understand that Zulu is widely known among Africans), I did not know which stadium was discussed. Lloyd drove on. The neighborhoods became more and more seedy.
Ultimately, the environs became more wide open, looking more like the Soccer City area. I said, “Lloyd, do you understand we are going to Ellis Park, not Soccer City?” He replied, “Oh yeah, oh, Ellis Park, that is what you said.” Well, only about 20 times. This too is Africa. All told I lost about an hour. Yet again, I had to hustle through the FIFA maze to get to my seat; my destiny here, it seems.
There were legions of Italian fans, as expected. I wondered why I had seen so few Italians anywhere else.
I sat around the 35-yard spot, about 20 rows from the field, opposite and to the right of the player benches, as they look out. Two pleasant-looking male Italian fans sat to my immediate left. In the rows in front were many of the several thousand Slovakia fans, of course well out-numbered overall. I heard Slovakia’s population is only about 5,000,000.
Italy wore the blue uniforms for which they are known as “Azzurri.” Slovakia wore white.
Italy came out displaying its usual “play not to lose” game. In its prior two games, Slovakia managed a tie and a loss, with one goal total. Today they stepped up to another level. Where were these guys before? Slovakia played as a good European-style team, allowing Italy very few scoring chances. When Slovakia had its own chances, they finished well. Today belonged to Slovakia.
Slovakia scored in the first half. One of the Italian men looked at me and shook his head. I nodded sympathetically. A Slovakian fan in front of me wanted to slap my palm, in celebration. I complied; no discrimination.
A bit later, Italy put a ball into the net. The two Italian fans leaped to their feet and began cheering. Once again, I had learned to watch the referee, who stood in the penalty box, arm outstretched, pointing up the field. I made a “no good” motion with my arms. The Slovakian fan in front of me made the same motion. The Italians sat down. No goal.
In the second half, Slovakia kept hustling. With a quarter to go, they scored to go up 2 – 0. My two Italian fans looked totally disgusted. If Italy lost the game, they were out.
The Azzurri decided to play. They began attacking furiously. Where had these guys been? Within a few minutes, Italy scored. The fans came to life; the stadium turned very loud. The Italians kept attacking and attacking. They scored again…apparently. The Italians to my left jumped to their feet. I sat there, shaking my head “no.” The Italian nearest me said, “No goal?” “No goal,” I replied. No goal.
Still, the Italians were unrelenting. They kept coming and coming, more and more desperate as time ticked down to the final whistle. Slovakia managed, somehow, to fend them off. Then, with minutes to go in the game, on a throw-in play in the Italian zone, the usually astute Azzurri went to sleep. Slovakia’s Kopunek slipped free down the right side, and struck his shot home. Slovakia did not miss its chances today. For Italy, it was a wonderful final quarter, where indeed they scored a second time, to close within one, in stoppage time. However, the clock ran out on the Italians. Their fans slumped in despair. Failing to make the World Cup second round does not happen to the Azzurri…. until today.
Following the game, the Slovakian fans were delirious, while the Italians marched out sullenly. My only thought was how to find Lloyd in that post-game tumult. In the dark, the environs looked so much different. Walking several blocks, I made my way to the security barrier, many blocks from the stadium. There were numerous cars and people at that point, as no vehicles could proceed any further. I could not get Lloyd on my cell phone. Was I standing in the right place?
Suddenly, from the crowd, out stepped Lloyd. He told me he had parked his vehicle a couple blocks away. The area was dark and dilapidated. He led me to a short side street, which was particularly dark, with few people. Lloyd showed no trepidation. He was my protector, a slight, bespectacled African man around 30 years old, who exhibited all the ferocity of a junior CPA.
No matter, Lloyd knew the territory. We made it to his car and back to Pretoria without incident. Another good World Cup day, since I do not speak Italian.
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