Trail of the Lion King

South Africa is hosting the 2014 African Nations Championships with all of the matches taking place in just three cities, Cape Town, Mangaung and Polokwane. We live about three hours drive from Polokwane and so that was the easiest option for us to see one of the group games.

We booked into a bed and breakfast place on a farm just outside of town. There was plenty of land to walk around although they didn’t seem to have much in the way of ‘big’ wildlife. Over the course of a couple of hours all we spotted was the arse of an antelope disappearing behind some bushes and a few stray porcupine needles.

The lack of large animals wasn’t a big deal though as I’m still at the stage where I find the small stuff fascinating. At one point we paused for a few minutes to watch a dung beetle being attacked by ants.

It’ll end in tears.

The beetle was stuck on its back and appeared to have had most of its underbelly eaten away. I know you aren’t supposed to interfere in these matters, circle of life and all of that, but I gave it a nudge to put it the right way up. Pointless really as although it could still crawl around it was bound to die before long.

A little later we spotted the largest grasshopper we’ve seen so far. I know it doesn’t rival the Big Five, but it was impressive nevertheless.

I wouldn’t fancy the ants chances with this fella.

Ok, football. The African Nations Championship is a different competition to the better known African Cup of Nations. The main difference is that only players who play in their countries home leagues can participate in the African Nations Championship.

The lack of overseas stars has meant that the tournament hasn’t really captured the imagination of the South African public. Maybe after the 2010 World Cup and the 2013 African Cup of Nations, it’s a bit of an anti-climax.

The tickets for the games have been on sale for a couple of months now and seem realistically priced. We paid the early bird price of fifty five rand for ours which compares very favourably with the prices charged by, say, Kaizer Chiefs for their PSL games.  In addition, we could watch a second game for free if we wanted. The other Group D game between Burundi and Mauritania was taking place in the same stadium at 8pm and admission covered both matches.

We arrived at the Peter Mokaba Stadium about half an hour before kick-off. We didn’t have parking tickets and so despite the main car parks being virtually empty we had to park on the nearby grass. As we passed through the turnstiles we had the tops of our Coke and water bottles confiscated. This happens at Boro games at The Riverside too although I’ve learned my lesson there and just take replacement caps with me. Maybe I’ll have to get into that habit over here too.

Peter Mokaba Stadium

Whilst the tickets were for allocated seats, nobody appeared to be taking any notice. We headed for the covered stand on the tunnel side just in case it started to rain. There were a group of Congo fans directly below us waving their flags and blowing vuvuzelas.

I don’t know too much about Congo as a country, except that there’s two of them and both countries had qualified for this tournament. Today’s team was the Democratic Republic of Congo, but I don’t know whether they are ‘Good Congo‘ or ‘Bad Congo‘. Perhaps neither of them are ‘Good Congo‘. Maybe ‘Bad Congo‘ and ‘Even Worse Congo‘ are more appropriate labels. I don’t know. For those of you who know your history, the Democratic Republic of Congo is the place formerly known as Zaire.

The DR Congo fans.

The Gabon fans were congregated over to our right. There were probably a few more of them, but maybe they hadn’t had so far to travel. Or perhaps they’ve had fewer civil wars to distract them from second-tier football tournaments. The rivalry between the supporters was friendly enough, although it always seems that way over here. Perhaps having the tops removed from their Coke bottles convinces everyone not to kick each others heads in.

The Gabon fans.

So, on to the game. Gabon were wearing Brazil strips which, as kits go, are generally regarded as being as cool as it gets. When they are worn by Brazil that is. When teams like Gabon or Crystal Palace wear them, then it just makes me smirk. Particularly when it’s Palace.

Congo out-cooled their opponents in the fashion stakes with a shirt based upon their sky blue with diagonal red stripe flag. Red shorts and blue socks completed their stylish look.

DR Congo – extra marks for the classic goalie kit.

Gabon opened the scoring in the second minute. Congo’s pony-tailed keeper had needlessly given away a corner with a theatrical tip around the post and when the ball was floated over Nguema headed his team into the lead.

Congo’s best chance in the half was squandered when some bloke ballooned a free-kick so far over the bar that I think even his Mam and Dad would have found it hard not to laugh.

I was a bit disappointed with the overall standard of play. There was too much first time hoofing and not enough occasions when someone would put his foot on the ball and have a think about what to do with it.

Congo on the attack.

At half time we had a wander through the concourse on the way to a change of seat. In the toilets someone had just restocked the supply of free condoms and I spotted a fella helping himself to a couple of dozen. I doubted that he’d be staying for the second game as I assumed that he had other plans.

The catering stall didn’t seem very popular, perhaps not surprisingly with the main dish being described as meat and pap. I don’t know about you but I prefer a description to be a little more specific than just ‘meat’.

Meat and pap.

Gabon opened up the second half with a couple of decent chances. The first of which gave the Congo goalie a chance to redeem himself when he got down well to thwart a shot from a quick break. This was soon followed by someone wasting a free header after being left unmarked at a corner.

View from the far corner.

As time went on I noticed a few new fans arriving in different colours, presumably supporters of Burundi or Mauritania. I’m not even sure that Mauritania is a real country. I’d always thought it was one of those places in fairy tales that always had a Crown Prince or where you went through passport control via the back of your wardrobe.

A bit more of the action.

The final throes of the game saw plenty of pressure from Congo as they tried to force an equaliser, countered by even more time-wasting by Gabon as they tried to run the clock down. They brought a chubby bald bloke on for the last few minutes who, as a consequence of his Brazil strip, bore  a certain resemblance to Fat Ronnie. Or at least he did until he got anywhere near the ball.

The vuvuzela didn’t seem to be appreciated by everyone.

The early goal turned out to be the only one of the game and the victory took Gabon to the top of the four-team table. A few days later both teams won their final group matches to progress to the quarter finals.

Football in the PSL and the National First Division takes a two to three week break over Christmas and New Year and as it is very difficult to find anything out about football games outside of the top two divisions I didn’t hold out much hope of getting to a match during that time. I kept on buying newspapers for the sports coverage though on the off-chance that there might be a brief mention of something going on somewhere and for once I got lucky.

One of the tabloids that tends to specialise in lurid accounts of vigilante action against just about everyone from suspected murderers to those who are late in returning their library books had a write-up in the sports section on the impending finals of three local tournaments. The nearest one to us was in Tembisa and so we headed over to the Makhulong Stadium for Finals Day of the Philly Games.

‘A Local Shop for Local People’

Tembisa is an area best described as dodgy. It’s sufficiently dodgy that I soon received a phone call from the company Security Manager who had been alerted by our tracking device to the possibility of us having been carjacked. I reassured him by mentioning that we were parked next to a Police car although I’m not convinced that my standard retort of “It’s ok, we are at a football match” gave him any additional comfort whatsoever.

Not quite a Zenith Data Systems Final queue at the Ticket Office.

There was a small tent next to the stadium selling tickets for the day’s events. General admission was thirty rand, but there were some VIP tickets available for one hundred rand a pop. I had no idea what the additional benefits would be but as it’s not often that we can be VIPs for less than six quid each we treated ourselves.

Even a hundred rand seemed cheap when I looked at the schedule for the day. To kick things off early in the afternoon we had the under fifteen and then the under seventeen finals. These games were followed by the adult mens third and fourth place play-off featuring Amasokolaar against a team called G-String. Yes, really.

The competitive matches were broken up with what I imagined would be a none too serious kickabout between a couple of ‘All-Star‘ teams of ageing former pros before the day concluded with the main event, the men’s final, in which Cheese FC were due to take on Amandla.

We didn’t plan on watching all of the games, not least because it would be dark by the time they had finished and there’s no way I’d want to be in Tembisa in the evening. Anyway, five matches back-to-back is too many even for me.

The VIP Section was somewhere in there.

I had a word with the fella on the gate as we went in and he reckoned that this annual tournament was the only time that the stadium was used these days. I was slightly surprised to hear this as I’d been under the impression that one of the First Division teams, Jomo Cosmos, played some of their fixtures there.

I’d also read that the Makhulong Stadium had been the location for one of the warm up fixtures prior to the 2010 World Cup. North Korea had taken on Nigeria in a game that was notable for a stampede by fans who had panicked at the prospect of the free-admission game filling up and closing its doors.

It was all a lot more leisurely on this occasion though with only a couple of hundred people dotted around the ground so early in proceedings.

The view from the far side.

We didn‘t bother initially with the bit where the VIPs go, but had a walk around to the opposite stand instead. There were a few stalls selling food and drink, some of which were well-stocked with bottles of spirits. I was driving so turned down the frequent offers of a whisky or rum, but it gave me an inkling  that it might all get lively as the day went on.

Where the posh people sit.

After a while we made our way across to the VIP section to watch the remainder of the Under-15 final. Our hundred rand tickets gave us the benefit of an indoor bar and separate outdoor seating. We could have taken chairs outside but we chose to just sit on the upper step of the terracing instead.

New Generation, in white, seemed to have much bigger players and scored a couple of early goals before Flamengo, in green, reduced the deficit just before half-time.

The outstanding footballer on the pitch was Flamengo‘s number ten who, despite being half the size of some of his opponents, had by far the best touch. Unfortunately his efforts were undermined by his centre halves who tended to toe-bop the ball as hard as they could in the general direction of ‘far away’.

A third goal from New Generation towards the end clinched victory and sparked dancing to suggest that their name had been chosen with one eye on boy-band careers.

And an action shot to finish.

We stayed long enough to watch the first half of the Under 17 final before making a move. The crowd had started to grow a bit and it seemed sensible to quit whilst we ahead. We chatted to a copper on the way out who was surprised, yet pleased, to see us there. It seems that very few people from out of town have much interest in the Philly Games.

We were equally surprised and pleased to see that our car was exactly where we’d left it.

I tend to get up early these days whether I’m at work or not and one of the benefits is seeing what’s happening on the terrace outside of our house. It‘s usually multi-coloured birds scrapping over seed but on this occasion it was the dassie making his rounds.

A dassie is a rock rabbit. As you might expect that’s a rabbit that lives in the rocks. Its closest relative in the animal world isn‘t the bog-standard rabbit though. No, apparently its closest animal relative is the elephant. Bizarre, but true. Or it‘s probably true, I didn’t check myself. And no more bizarre than elephants themselves I suppose. Dassies don’t have tusks but they do have vampire-like teeth, which is pretty much all I know about them apart from their favourite food is the roses on the terrace.

“Oi, leave that alone.”

Oh, and when they’ve eaten their fill, they like to sleep it off on the rocks above the back garden. Still, I dare say an elephant would have made more of a mess.

He’s looking rather pleased with life.

With the dassie excitement over for the day, we set off for the match. Orlando Pirates were taking on Golden Arrows at the Orlando Stadium in Johannesburg.

It’s a football ground with a bit of a history as it was the intended destination for the marchers in what ended up as the Soweto Uprising in 1976. It was also the venue for Walter Sisulu’s funeral in 1993 and somewhat more recently, but less impressively, a Black Eyed Peas concert in 2010.

It should have been an easy enough place to find but I’d mistakenly put the address in the sat nav of the nearby Dobsonville Stadium instead, home of the Maroko Swallows. Now that is a poor area. We’ll not be going to any games after dark at that ground.

With the correct address identified we were soon at the Orlando Stadium, although not before we had spotted a woman crossing the road with an oil drum on her head. She didn’t quite have the classic ‘no-handed’ technique mastered, although I suppose with something that size it wasn’t a bad effort nevertheless.

It’s like Ladies Day at Ascot.

The Pirates were in the lower half of the table due to them being a few games behind the rest of the clubs as a consequence of their cup commitments, whilst Golden Arrows were at the foot of the league as a consequence of them being fairly crap.

With the difference in class between the teams it didn’t take the hosts long to open the scoring and Happy Jele poked a loose ball home after the Arrows keeper failed to hang on to the initial shot.

One-Nil.

Somewhat surprisingly the visitors were level within a minute or so with one of their defenders heading an equaliser after a corner. The goal highlighted the presence of two away fans who had been fairly quiet up to that point. Mind you, there’s not much to shout about as an Arrows fan these days.

We had a drinks break midway through the first half. That seems a sensible and frequent occurrence over here. Unfortunately Golden Arrows lost a little concentration and Orlando broke quickly when play resumed. A cross into the box was sidefooted home from close range by Matthews Manyisa, a midfielder who if I had to describe him in a word, then that word would be ‘shortarse’.

View from the corner.

We switched seats for the second half and tried the view from the upper tier on the other side of the ground. The play was fairly open with both keepers making some decent saves and coping well with the ropey goalmouths.

Corner to Golden Arrows.

The crowd was announced as three thousand, which I thought was a little optimistic. Despite the poor attendance there was a singing section in each of the four sides of the ground and millinery sections in at least a couple of them.

Fancy hats are popular amongst the supporters here, although none of them quite rivalled the oil drum lady from earlier in the day.

Better than a baseball cap or a beanie.

Orlando were probably the better side in the second half but didn’t put the game to bed until the last minute when little Matty Manyisa ended any uncertainty with his second goal of the afternoon. The win enabled Orlando to continue their climb up the table and kept Golden Arrows in pole position for the drop to the First Division.

We headed back off home to see how many of the roses we had left.

As there were only around ten minutes between the fifth tier game that we’d just watched and the fourth tier fixture that followed it on the same pitch, I thought I might as well hang around to see some of the second match.

It probably wouldn’t do any harm to pass on what I know about the structure of South African domestic football at this time. Top of the pile is the Premier Soccer League which gets around ninety-five percent of the overall media coverage. I suppose that’s how Premier Leagues are these days. The PSL is made up of sixteen clubs and the team that finishes bottom of the table gets relegated to the National First Division, whilst second bottom gets the chance of a reprieve via a play-off.

The National First Division also comprises sixteen teams of which one or two gain promotion to the PSL each year. Two teams are relegated to the third tier. The fixtures for the second tier are listed in a weekly sports paper but that’s about all the coverage it gets.

The third tier is the National Second Division, formerly known as the Vodacom League. It consists of nine regional leagues, each with sixteen teams. It gets minimal coverage and by that I mean that the only thing I can occasionally find is a weekly round-up of local results from a  newspaper in Limpopo. Dogs getting ran over get bigger headlines. So far I haven’t even been able to find a list of the teams competing at this level, never mind a fixture list or table.

There’s another set of regional leagues next that were formerly named after Castle beer. That level is known as the SAB League these days. Again, there is next to no information available. It’s a shame really as I expect there will be some interesting grounds at the lower levels.

From what I can see, the fifth tier is known as the Superleague, or at least it is in the group of eight that Arcadia Shepherds and Glenwegians play in. I’ve no idea if it is the same all over Pretoria, never mind Gauteng or the country as a whole. Hopefully I’ll stumble across more information as time goes by.

Time for a photo.

So, that’s how the leagues work. Or at least I think that’s how it is. I can tell you a bit about the Caledonian Stadium too. It was a greyhound stadium up until 1903. That’s the year that Arcadia Shepherds were formed. Hmm, coincidence?

Much as I like football I’m not keen on facilities such as greyhound tracks being taken away for alternative use. I used to love going to Cleveland Park to watch the dogs race and replacing it with a few five a side pitches and a school playing field has never struck me as a good move.

So, after the equally vague details of the league structure and the history of the stadium, on to the game itself. Arcadia Shepherds were in a white kit for this one, with Blue Stars in what I assume to be their traditional blue.

As kick-off approached we were treated to a pre-match prayer session from the Shepherds.

“Forgive us our trespasses into offside positions”

The fourth tier seems a bit more organised than the fifth and the game commenced with a full set of linesmen and corner flags. One of the assistants was the ref from the game that had just finished so in hindsight it’s probably no surprise that he had been pacing himself. The official on the other side was a woman who actually looked shorter than the corner flag. I doubted that those little legs would be getting up and down the pitch very quickly either.

Corner flags and officials, what more could you ask for?

Another indication that this match was more prestigious than the previous one was that the cage that protects the players as they emerge from the tunnel had been dragged into place. It didn’t really serve any other purpose than trying to suggest a greater sense of occasion than was warranted. Similar to the ball boys you can buy for Subbuteo, I suppose.

The view from the main stand.

There was a larger crowd this time, maybe sixty, although it did include a few of the players from the game that had just finished. With the afternoon drawing on there was plenty of beer and wine being drunk.

“Come on ye Shepherds”

As for the action, it was definitely a higher standard than the game before, although that’s not much of a compliment. Arcadia opened the scoring after five minutes when someone looped a header into the top corner.

Good as it all was, we had other stuff to do and back to back games were interfering with it. Twenty minutes were long enough to snap a few photos and so after that we left them to it.

After seeing some top-tier football in World Cup stadiums it was time to watch something closer to the game’s grass roots. We’d driven past Caledonian Stadium in Pretoria on a couple of occasions and a bit of research revealed that Arcadia Shepherds played their division five ‘Superleague‘ fixtures at that ground.

The same research also revealed that Bobby Charlton had made a guest appearance for the Shepherds in the mid-seventies. I wonder how he feels nowadays about making the trip in that isolated apartheid era.

I saw Bobby Charlton play at Sunderland, around 1977, in a testimonial game for Billy Hughes. The Dad of one of my mates supported Sunderland and so he took us up to watch. It was a decent gesture from Charlton to play, as I’m sure his appearance will have added to the gate receipts. We showed our appreciation in the way that twelve year olds do by shouting “Baldy“ at him, whenever he came over to our side of the pitch. He stared at us and you could see that he was wondering why he had bothered turning out.

Arcadia Shepherds without Bobby Charlton.

The game was a few minutes late in kicking off, probably due to the ref not seeming to arrive until twenty past one. At least he got there. The linesmen didn’t show up at all and the game was ten minutes old before anyone bothered to put the corner flags up.

For those interested, Arcadia were in a red, white and black kit whilst opponents Glenwegians wore white with green trim.

The view from the main stand.

Midway through the first half the Glenwegian captain tapped home a loose ball to put his team ahead. I’d long realised by that time that the standard wasn’t up to much. It seemed like classic lower level Sunday League, with a mixture of keen young lads and older, out of condition, fat knackers.

The goalmouths were worn, school-style and I noticed the away team’s manager was smoking a fag in the dug-out. As were a couple of the subs.

One of the Arcadia players got a red card ten minutes before half-time. He was unlucky really as there were outrageous tackles going unpunished all over the pitch. His offence resulted in a punch-up close to the half-way line and as the ref rarely moved out of the centre circle it meant that, for once, he was handily placed.

Right on the spot.

As the kid trudged off he grabbed his car keys from one of the subs in the dugout. I was hoping that we might get a repeat of one of the highlights of my Sunday League career in which a player who had been sent off returned in his Cortina and scattered opponents, team mates and officials by driving across the centre of the pitch on his way home. No such luck on this occasion though.

There were about fifteen fans in the main stand to start with and another five peering through the fence despite it being free to get in. A few more filed in as the game went on with the total crowd perhaps peaking at forty.

I can’t walk past a game without stopping to watch either.

The half-time break was the shortest I’d experienced since primary school, with the combination of the late kick-off and another game scheduled for that afternoon resulting in the players getting to sit down for precisely eight minutes.

Ten minutes into the re-start, a long punt downfield bounced over the away keepers outstretched arms and an Arcadia player beat him to the ball to prod it into the empty net. One each. It was around this time when the players for the next game started appearing. They warmed up along the side of the pitch, just about doubling the crowd in the process.

Parity didn’t last long as the Arcadia persistence with long ball tactics paid off. The next hoof was chased by a fella who was at least three yards offside. The lack of linesmen, compounded by the lack of mobility of the ref, meant that he got away with it and he finished well, much to the fury of the visiting players.

The main stand.

The fun wasn’t over though. At least not for those of us watching. The Glenwegian captain had spent all afternoon complaining to anyone in earshot about life’s unfairness. He finally got something genuine to cry about when he took a blast to the nuts from close range. It looked as if all his team’s subs had already been used as well. Or perhaps one of them had just lit a fag up and was reluctant to leave the comfort of the dugout. Whatever the reasoning, Captain Marvel staggered around for a couple of minutes before deciding that his lack of mobility meant that he would have to go in goal.

He swapped shirts with the keeper and the game resumed. Or at least it did until the ref noticed the switch and ordered the former keeper off to swap his black goalie shorts for a white pair that matched those of his outfield teammates. I got the impression that Glenwegians didn’t have much spare kit as it took a while to find a pair. Apparently it would have taken even longer to find a pair that fitted and so the former goalie rejoined the game in shorts at least a couple of sizes too small. It wasn’t a problem for long though as the ref promptly waved him back off the pitch. This time to change his black socks for white ones.

A bit of the action.

Insisting on matching socks seemed a little excessive to me in a game that was taking place in front of forty fans and  without any linesmen. Although if I’d been on the end of the incessant Glenwegian yapping I might very well have done the same.

Overcoming his struggle to sit down in his too tight shorts, the fella eventually changed his socks and re-joined the game. He didn’t get long to make an impact though as the ref, who was obviously conscious of the late kick-off and the players for the next game loitering on the sidelines, blew for time a couple of minutes early, denying the visiting team the chance of a last gasp leveller.

Despite the standard of football being the lowest I’ve encountered since my own playing days, it was a very entertaining afternoon.

For this weeks game Jen and I headed off to Mpumalanga and the match at Nelspruit between the Black Aces and Ajax Cape Town. It’s a three hour drive or so from Bronkhorstpruit and it took us up into a picturesque part of the country.

We’d hoped to see a few waterfalls and other sights, but with the fog and the mist the best we managed over the weekend was a couple of hours at Pilgrim’s Rest, a small town popular as a coach trip destination for old age pensioners who like to buy mass-produced Chinese tat.

We were just about the only people with our own teeth.

Nelspruit got itself a new stadium for the World Cup. The Mbombela Stadium, as it’s known, is the one with the Zebra pattern on the seats. I had a look at the list of the four games that were played there but didn‘t remember any of them. Oh well. Maybe that’s more a reflection on my memory than the quality of the games. Perhaps it wont be long before I’ll be on the bus trips to buy ‘hand carved‘ tribal masks.

Mbombela Stadium.

Mbombela is a good ground though, with a forty thousand capacity and no running track. We’d bought our tickets in advance online for forty rand. Not that we needed to as the crowd peaked at about a thousand. I wonder how much of a legacy the World Cup has left? It’s fine having these new stadiums but if people aren’t going to turn up then what’s the point?

I’ve read that the stadium has been used for rugby as well, but at the one game of egg chasing that we‘ve been to over here there were only around a thousand people at that too. It’s hard to argue with the notion that the original Nelspruit stadium was all that the town had ever needed.

Note the zebra patterned seats.

And so what else caught my eye? Well, Ajax had a Finnish keeper, Anssi Jaakola, if that’s of any interest. He recently had a spell at Kilmarnock and before that had turned out at Siena with Boro legend Massimo Maccarone.

Jaakola didn’t have much to do in the first half, with probably his only chance to shine coming when he punched a shot away just before the interval. Meanwhile his team mates rarely threatened the opposition and stealing the Ajax name was as close as they got to Total Football.

The Finnish fella takes a cross.

The second half saw a bit more pressure from the Black Aces with their striker Elliot Khenyeza going close on a couple of occasions. He just didn’t quite have the pace to lose the last defender, although as his shorts came down to below his knees I think it may very well have been poor aerodynamics that was costing him that extra yard.

The home fans.

The home side had a few penalty shouts as the game went on. I didn’t think any of them actually were penalties but I was expecting the ref to eventually award one as a result of the cumulative appeals. He didn’t though, resisting the pressure or chickening out, depending on your allegiance.

All that was left was for the Finnish fella to make a couple of fine saves at the death and that was it. A goalless draw, but an enjoyable game nevertheless.

Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates are the big two in South African football, making the Soweto derby one of the highlights of the season. Chiefs had home advantage on this occasion and so that meant a trip to the FNB Stadium.

I’d been there before. My mate Paul and I had paid a couple of visits during the World Cup, watching Holland play Denmark and then Argentina take on South Korea. That last game featured Diego Maradona stomping up and down the sideline as his country’s coach. It’s the only time I’ve seen him in real life. I’d have loved to have seen him as a player.

Argentina fans in 2010.

I’d had a check as to how many fans normally turn up for this game and it looks as if around eighty thousand is the norm. The papers were reporting that it might even sell out which would be pretty impressive in a ninety-four thousand capacity stadium.

Normally you would expect these two teams to be up at the top end of the league and whilst Kaizer Chiefs were in their usual position, Orlando Pirates were propping up the table. It was a false position though as lengthy cup runs had meant that despite this being the Pirates seventeenth game of the season, it was only their third in the league. By comparison, most of the other clubs had already played seven or eight PSL games. The gap would soon widen a bit more as the Pirates had a two-legged Champions League final to follow this game.

The journey to the stadium was a bit of an arse on, with all four or five lanes of the road down to crawling pace. It was a bit much for one fella who got out of his car and punched the bloke in the vehicle behind. I suppose there’s only so long you can amuse yourself with games of I-Spy. We later passed them all parked up on the hard shoulder putting their respective sides of the story to the police.

Despite the traffic we arrived at the FNB Stadium around an hour and a half early. The car parking was a bit chaotic and even though we had pre-booked a spot in a secure car park we were waved into a field that looked about as secure as leaving your front door open with a sign on it saying ‘Big Telly Inside’.

As we walked through the field towards the stadium, Jen and I were offered hats, flags and any manner of food cooked on open fires. One bloke was insistent that he should stamp our arms with a team badge for the bargain fee of five rand. In the end he gave me a Chiefs stamp on one arm and a Pirates one on the other. Great, ten rand to potentially provoke a kicking from both sets of supporters then.

I’d expected the car to have already been stolen by this point.

Not surprisingly, the stadium was far from full as we took our seats with an hour to go before the teams came out. The ground staff were preparing for the game by scattering what looked like green sawdust over any bare patches on the pitch to make it look better for the cameras.

As kick-off approached we stood for a minute’s silence in respect of some fans who had recently died in a traffic incident. If the driving and punch up that we had seen earlier were any indication then there is probably a minute’s silence every game.

The FNB Stadium.

With the game underway, the ground continued to fill up. I’d estimate around forty thousand to start with, rising eventually to around seventy thousand. The attendance was, once again, reported as eighty thousand. Perhaps that’s just how it’s done here.

There was no segregation and the fans freely mixed with each other, taking the piss whenever circumstances on the pitch allowed. As per the previous week there were also plenty of people wearing other team’s shirts.

An early goal from the visitors was celebrated by a fair proportion of the stadium before being cancelled out later in the half by a Chiefs equaliser that might well have been offside.

Goal!!

There was a fair bit of showboating from the players. One fella in particular would have been Cattermoled in England for some of his tricks. In the second half we had a twenty two man punch up to liven things up, more than twenty two men actually, if you count the physio and coaching staff that got involved. There weren’t any more goals though and it finished up one each.

Someone going close.

We nipped out a couple of minutes early only to find that we were blocked in by the random parking in the field. The bloke who had followed us for a hundred yards back to the car to collect his five rand for minding it commiserated but was of little practical help.

It’s a company car though and so I was able to squeeze it through the tiniest of gaps between a couple of vans and make a prompt getaway. Next time I’m here I’ll try and find the ‘proper’ secure parking.