Trail of the Lion King

The biggest game in South African football is the Soweto derby between Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates. It’s so big that the Pirates routinely forfeit home advantage to enable the fixture to be played at the 94,000 capacity ground of their rivals rather than their own 40,000 seater Orlando Stadium.

The build up to this game had been a little more manic than most. Firstly it had been rescheduled due to the murder of the Pirates keeper, then the Pirates bowed to popular opinion and fired their manager three days before the game.

Jen and I had been to this fixture last season and knew that we needed to set off early. I’d allowed an extra hour but it wasn’t enough. The heavy traffic was made worse by the power cuts rationing electricity knocking out the majority of traffic lights. We tried any number of short cuts but the congestion meant that we didn’t arrive at the FNB stadium until around twenty minutes to kick-off.

Even then we had an arse on getting parked. Our pre-booked tickets were for the Expo centre, but we weren’t allowed along the access road to it and so had to dump the car in a different car park by the side of the road.

On the way in.

We had an easier time getting into the stadium, with no bag search and no queues at the electronic turnstiles. I’d forgotten that there were three tiers to the stadium though and we went right up to the top level when in reality our tier 2 tickets require ground level entrance. Even so, and despite having to do half a lap of the stadium before we found the correct block, we missed no more than the first few seconds of the game.

The view from the second tier.

The fixture had been reported as a sell-out a few weeks earlier, but there were still tickets on sale in the days leading up to the game. An interesting innovation was the announcing of the current crowd a few minutes after kick-off. The claim of 51,000 in a 94,000 capacity ground seemed about right and I was curious as to how much that would increase by the finish.

The first half play was quite tight, but the Chiefs looked the better team. They seemed much more mobile than the Pirates, with quick support from the midfield for any attacking move and a similar effort when they were called upon to defend.

Pirate attack.

Reneilwe Letsholonyane controlled the game in the middle of the park for the Chiefs with a George Boateng style performance, whilst on the right Siphiwe Tshabalala always looked dangerous.

At half-time we decided to find some shade and moved to a top tier corner area on the other side of the ground. There were still people coming in through the turnstiles as we made our way around the ground, although that’s not surprising with the extent of the traffic chaos.

Probably a Pirates fan.

Chiefs made their pressure pay soon after the break when Tshabalala put them a goal up and they should really have added a second soon after when someone hit a post with the Pirates keeper already beaten on the ground.

A few minutes from time the ‘final’ crowd was announced as 71,000. That was probably about right.  It’s a excellent attendance, but in a 94,000 capacity stadium any areas of empty seating were always going to stand out.

View from the far corner.

We cleared off a few minutes before the end to try to avoid the gridlock outside and as we left the ground we heard a cheer that I’d assumed was the final whistle. It turned out to be an injury time goal from the Chiefs, calming a few nerves and clinching victory.

The win consolidated the Chiefs position at the top of the league and effectively left manager-less Pirates out of contention even before we’ve reached the mid-point of the season.

I like to try to fit as much into weekends as possible and this one had already seen Jen and I spend a couple of nights at a game reserve and take in the Telkom Knockout final in Soweto. The thing was though, there was another game that I fancied seeing taking place at the Mbombela Stadium in Nelspruit on the Sunday afternoon.

Nelspruit is around two and a half hours drive away from us and I didn’t really want to drive back in the evening after the game and so decided to stay over instead, take the Monday off and then have another drive around nearby Kruger the next day. That’s two weekends in one in my book.

The Kruger drive went especially well as we got up close to a couple of young spotted hyenas that were lazing around by the side of the road. They didn’t seem bothered by us parking a few feet away and I reckon I could have had them eating Smarties out of my hand if I’d wanted to.

Hyenas just need better PR.

The match was a bit of an odd affair. It was a hastily scheduled international against Ivory Coast as part of some sort of Mandela charity initiative. Unfortunately it fell outside of the international ‘window’ and so not only were there no European-based players selected, but some of the South African clubs also refused to release their footballers. The starting line-up for South Africa included eight uncapped players and the three fellas who had previously played for the national team had a grand total of four caps between them.

On the plus side, the reduced interest meant that parking in the stadium was easy enough and I was able to buy my son a Kaizer Chiefs shirt from a bloke outside for 150 rand instead of the usual 800 rand that the shops charge.

They sold hats as well.

We had tickets for the upper tier as I was keen for us to be under cover. The poor sales scuppered this plan though with only the lower tier being opened. With free seating we settled in on the half way line in the sort of area where I imagine Sepp Blatter would get to sit if he turned up.

Bafana Bafana started well with the ball in the net after a minute. The celebrations on and off the pitch continued for a minute or so despite the linesman’s flag ruling the goal out. I’m sure some people near us were unaware that the effort had been disallowed and continued basking in their team’s early success.

Almost one-nil.

I tried to remember what the game was where the Boro were in a similar situation. Festa was twirling his shirt above his head and everyone was celebrating the goal. Well, not quite everyone. The opposition had resumed play and maybe half of our players were frantically trying to contain them whilst the rest and most of the fans were blissfully unaware.

South Africa had the better chances and finally took the lead after half an hour through Zungu. I’m sure some people thought he had made it two-nil.

South Africa were in the white kit.

The first half drew to a close without any further goals and we decided to move around to one of the corners on the other side of the ground. I like different vantage points and this one had the added advantage of being closer to the car park.

Zulu doubled South Africa’s lead a few minutes into the second half. They then seemed to alternate between preserving their lead by timewasting and charging forward as if it were they that were two goals down. I preferred the latter approach and with it being pretty much a ‘nothing game’ why not take a few risks?

Celebrating a real goal this time.

My plan for a quick getaway close to the end was thwarted as the gates on our side of the ground were closed and we had to circumnavigate the ground to find an exit.

Bizarrely, there were still people coming in as we went out, and others parking their cars as we drove off, despite the game being over by then. African time, apparently.

It was cup final time again, this time the Telkom Knockout between Supersport United and Platinum Stars. There are three domestic cup competitions in South Africa and I suppose the Telkom Knockout is the equivalent of the League Cup in terms of prestige. It’s limited to the sixteen PSL clubs and so it doesn’t take a lot of winning, with just a three match run to the final.

I’m beyond watching all that road to Wembley style build-up these days, which is just as well really as the nature reserve that Jen and I were staying at didn‘t have any tellies. It did have plenty of wildlife though and on a pre-match early morning walk we got within about fifteen yards of some giraffes, spotted a few monkeys and in the highlight of the morning watched a black-backed jackal run up a gully and away over the ridge we’d just come down.

Black-backed Jackal.

Jackals are regarded as a bit of a nuisance by South African farmers as they’ll snack on new-born stock in the manner of a Geordie let loose in Greggs. When I went hunting during the 2010 World Cup I was told I could shoot as many jackals as I wanted to, for free. I’m glad we didn’t see any though, I like dogs and they like me.

The Telkom Knockout final was held at the neutral venue of Orlando Stadium, home of the Pirates. We’d been before so I knew about the underground parking and our advance ticket allowed us to just drive up to the stadium and park inside, under the grandstand. That avoided a lot of traffic chaos outside of the ground and was a hundred rand well spent.

Fans on their way in.

Neither of the finalists are traditionally well supported and the crowd was supplemented by plenty of neutrals. Or at least plenty of fans of rival teams. There was a whole group of Kaizer Chiefs supporters behind one goal, all dressed identically and, I suspect, singing their own teams songs all game.

Others wore their own teams shirts or hats.

Contender for hat of the day.

Most of the tickets were forty rand general admission, but we’d splashed out on eighty rand (£4.50) grandstand seats. After all, it was a cup final. For the first half though we just sat in the cheap seats behind one of the goals. There was a threat of rain and we were happy enough with somewhere under the overhang of the stand above.

The upper tier wasn’t opened but even so, there were enough free seats for just about anyone who wanted some shade to find it. To our right was a group that seemed predominantly Platinum Stars fans. In their midst was an impressive brass band. They even had a couple of tubas. It all seemed very Spanish.

One day, Red Faction will have progressed to this.

Platinum stars opened the scoring just before the half hour with a well-taken goal from Malawian striker Robert Ng’ambi. I’ve had an irrational dislike of Malawians ever since living next door to one in a bedsit in London thirty years ago. That fella would put his record player on repeat and then fall asleep leaving the same song playing loudly until the early hours. Maybe enough time has passed for me to let it go.

Supersport are in white.

Supersport were level soon enough with what appeared to be a fairly soft penalty. The ref hadn’t seemed interested initially, but I think the lino gave him the nod. Clayton Daniels tucked it away tidily enough.

One each.

We were sat behind a group of Supersport fans, or at least we were for some of the time. They kept getting up and moving to other parts of the ground, only to return a few minutes later. Just sit still and watch the match. The ones that did stay celebrated the equaliser with some arse-wiggling dancing.

Supersport fans celebrate the equaliser.

The teams were level at the break and at that point we moved to the grandstand along the side. The second half was a lot cagier than the first. I don’t think the teams were necessarily playing for extra time and/or penalties, but it wasn’t the end to end affair that the first half had been and neither team seemed unhappy with the draw at the end of ninety minutes.

As we approached the end of the first period of extra time, Supersport took the lead with their second penalty of the game, Clayton Daniels again making no mistake.

Supersport celebrate again.

I thought that goal would be enough to clinch the trophy but there was a lot more to come. Within a minute Mogakolodi Ngele had equalised for Platinum Stars and with the smiles barely wiped from the faces of the Supersport fans it was Stars turn to win a penalty and give themselves a chance of going three-two up.

Eleazer Rodgers failed to take the opportunity though, or rather Supersport keeper Ronwen Williams denied him with a double save keeping the follow-up out too. I’d though Williams had looked a bit suspect at times, particularly with the ball at his feet, but he did the business when it mattered.

He shot, he missed…

The penalty drama seemed to tilt the momentum back to Supersport and in the second period of extra time Thuso Phala cut in from the right and after holding off a defender planted the ball into the far corner in a way that reminded me of Mark Viduka.

It all got a bit frantic in the final few minutes but Platinum Stars couldn’t force an equaliser and it was time for more Supersport dancing as they took the trophy.

After watching the PSL game in KaNyamazane the previous day, the plan for Sunday was to drive through the Kruger National Park and spot a bit of wildlife. We’d been there the previous weekend and seen so many elephants and rhinos that by the time we left we were barely slowing down for them.

I’d discovered that there was a third tier ABC Motsephe League fixture taking place in Kabokweni, which is near enough on the way home and so the schedule for the day was to get up early, enter the park at the Malelane gate, see some animals over the next few hours and then leave via the Phabeni gate en-route to the match.

It all started well enough. We were inside Kruger by six-thirty in the morning and sticking to the un-tarred roads we got lucky with the usual suspects. The highlight of that early morning spell was stumbling across a herd of elephants that hung around near to the car for about twenty minutes.

There were around ten of them.

The adults didn’t pay us much attention, but one small one that may have been three or four years old decided that he would try a charge from around ten feet away. He trumpeted at us, flapped his ears and then took a couple of menacing paces in our direction.

I had no intention of moving and would have been quite happy to have taken a dent to the car. I’m sure he’d have come off worse. The two paces were as far as he got and a stare from his mother calmed him down. Hopefully a spell on the naughty step followed.

Toddler elephant losing his temper.

In the afternoon we spotted a few wild dogs. Or rather we initially spotted half a dozen cars surrounding the wild dogs.You wouldn’t think wild dogs would cause so much excitement, but they are pretty rare. Certainly rarer than elephants anyway.

Wild dogs are something that we‘d not yet seen outside of a sanctuary pen and so it was a welcome sighting. With a bit of luck there’ll be fewer people around if we see some more.

Not as wild as that toddler elephant.

We’d taken a longer route than I’d originally envisaged and didn’t leave the park until after 3pm. We’d made up some time by me exceeding the 50kmph speed limit, but lost it again after I was stopped and ticketed.

It then took more time than expected to find Kabokweni and longer still to find the stadium. It’s not too far away from Kruger Airport, which is probably the only airport terminal in the world with a thatched roof. By the time that we got there the game was into the second half.

Kabokweni stadium.

The home side, Appollo XI, in white, were a goal up and looked well on top. I presume that’s the correct spelling of their name, as that’s how it’s painted on their team van. I’d like to think that they’ve got an Armstrong and an Aldrin in their team.

I stood by the railings to the left of the main stand and watched from there. A few fans were over on the far side but the majority were sitting under cover.

The covered stand.

I had a chat with a fella called Peter who had brought his own chair. He told me that he used to play at this ground years ago and, just like everyone that I seem to talk to, spoke about the role that playing football has in keeping unemployed teenagers away from drink and drugs. I wonder if people sometimes mistake me for Prince Charles.

He was surprised to hear that we have unemployment, drink and drug problems in the UK. Although he was less surprised to hear that we have fewer elephants.

Peter keeps an eye out for young people drinking.

Our conversation was interrupted by a Secunda Star cleverly sidestepping the keeper before, when faced with an open goal from five yards out, somehow managing to blaze the ball over the bar. The entire ground roared with laughter including, I suspect, his own team-mates. It certainly took Peter’s mind off more serious matters.

A few moments prior to the glorious missed chance.

We didn’t stay for long as we still had a three and a half hour drive ahead of us, but it had been worth calling in.

The PSL football teams in South Africa spread their games around a few different stadiums, a bit like the way that the county cricket teams in England used to do. Or maybe still do. A chance discovery that Mpumalanga Black Aces were hosting Polkwane City in KaNyamazane meant that Jen and I headed east along the N4 for the weekend.

It’s an enjoyable drive, or at least the looking out of the window part is. Once you get beyond Middleburg the road cuts through or drives over some pretty spectacular mountains. There were monkeys too, and there are very few situations that aren’t improved by having monkeys around.

Even better, babies too.

We dropped our stuff off at a lodge on the way to the game. As with a lot of lodges in Mpumalanga, it overlooked a river. The one by the place that we’d stayed at a bit further along the road the previous week had hippos and crocodiles in, but this one didn‘t appear to have much more than a big carp and a few turtles. Maybe a pike or two might have livened things up a bit.

Last week’s croc.

KaNyamazane Stadium was easy enough to find, although the parking had been closed off and we had to leave the car in a back street. One of these days it’s not going to be there when we come out. The stadium is close to shops and a few roadside stalls so I imagine it’s fairly busy around there regardless of whether it’s a match day or not.

Last chance for a snack.

We’d bought our forty rand (£2.20) tickets in advance and so were able to bypass the scrum around the cash turnstile. It’s an easy enough system, you order them online and then pick them up at a the customer services section of a supermarket. In fact, you don’t actually need to order them, I do it out of habit, but you can turn up at the supermarket and just buy them there and then. It’s a little surprising to me that it hasn’t caught on in the UK.

Cash to the right, tickets to the left.

Once inside, we sat on the open terrace opposite the covered main stand. It was in the sun, but with the kick-off being half past three, we were probably over the worst heat of the day. If it looked like rain we had the option of scurrying over to the other side of the pitch.

The view from our seats.

Black Aces were in an Everton style strip, whilst visitors Polokwane City wore a teal and orange combination, making it easy for me to favour the home team.

Genuine chances were scarce early on with Black Aces seemingly determined only to score from twenty man passing moves, whilst Polokwane limited themselves to shots from distance.

Polokwane park the bus.

The biggest excitement came from an injured lino having to be replaced by the fourth official. The new bloke appeared to enjoy his enhanced role, signalling throws and corners with a dramatic flourish of the flag. Once again, the ref had a FIFA badge on his shirt. Either you can buy them at the sports shops, or there are a lot of international refs in Africa. Then again, maybe it’s the same fella reffing every game that we go to.

View to our right.

The second half started with a bang when within a minute of the re-start, Thobani Mncwango ran on to a ball over the top and turned his defender to put Polokwane a goal up. A few minutes later his teammate Puleng Dennis doubled their lead with one of those goals that just didn’t look right. Maybe there was a handball in there somewhere, perhaps it was offside, I don’t know. The Polokwane defenders didn’t seem to know either, they appealed for something, but as ‘looking a bit dodgy’ doesn’t contravene any of the laws of the game the goal had to stand.

The fifty or so Polokwane fans in the two thousand crowd had no doubts though and celebrated to the tune of the Kiss song Crazy Crazy Life.

The Polokwane fans play up for the cameras.

The visitors had a few chances to finish the game off with a third goal but couldn’t take them. Five minutes from time Black Aces pulled one back but that was it and Polokwane held on for a two-one win. More importantly, our car was still there when we got out.

I’d watched Witbank back in August in a home game played at Middleburg. For this National First Division game against Santos they were at their regular Puma Rugby Stadium home.

I went to Witbank last year, when some of us from work had lunch in a fairly ropey looking part of town. You brought your own meat and a couple of fellas cooked it for you on a six foot long grill. As I rarely carry raw meat around with me it was fortunate that there was a butcher’s shop right next door.

Not a microwave in sight.

The place that we ate at wasn’t somewhere that I’d be comfortable visiting after dark. Most of the locals were fine with us but it was easy to see that once people got a few drinks inside them then it was likely to be a different story. Mind you, there’s plenty of pubs in Norton like that.

Friendlier to strangers than the Mucky Duck or Top House.

On this occasion I’d already had my lunch, albeit one consisting of a piece of birthday cake, and so Jen and I were able to head straight to the ground.

Where did all those years go?

It was all a little confusing as although Witbank play at the Rugby Stadium, there was an actual rugby match taking place next door at what I hope is known as the football ground.

As we are white it was assumed that we were headed for the oval ball game and the bloke on the gate tried to just wave us straight through. He was quite pleased when we told him that we were there for the football and as he sold us our ten rand tickets, thanked us for our support.

Sixty pence, for the South African equivalent of the Championship.

Puma Rugby Stadium is fairly run down and if it ever had a heyday then it was a long time ago. I know how that feels. We clambered up a grassy bank and took a couple of seats on the concrete terracing. Whilst we didn’t have a roof above, there was a wall directly behind us that we could lean against.

On the way in.

There were a couple of covered stands opposite, the smaller of the two being more like a cricket pavilion than something that you’d see at a football ground.

The covered stands.

To our left was a strange looking stand. It was two tier, but without a roof. Whilst a handful of fans braved the upper level, most people sat in the seats directly in front of the executive boxes, the brief overhang from above providing some cover.

The uncovered stand.

This was also the part of the ground where the noisier of the fans hung out. As usual there were plenty of Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates shirts, plus the odd robe and a fair few vuvuzelas. One fella brought three of them in with him. I can understand one spare, maybe, but what sort of potential vuvuzela crisis could warrant bringing two spares?

Witbank hardcore.

There were probably around a hundred and fifty fans in the ground as the game kicked off and at ten rand a head I wondered whether there was actually any point in selling tickets. By the time they’ve been printed and the bloke on the gate has been paid there can’t have been much profit on the exercise.

We had the cameras at the game too, as it was live on ‘normal’ telly, you know, the ‘free-to-air’ one rather than the subscription channels. It’s possible then that there might have been a few hundred thousand people with nothing better to do than to watch second tier football tuned in to this match at home. I doubt many of the audience were expecting a thriller as Witbank hadn’t scored in their last five games, with four of them ending goalless.

Santos on the attack.

For most of the first half it looked as if the run was going to continue. Witbank, in their Brighton strips, struggled against the two big lugs in the Santos defence. The home side eventually managed to break the deadlock just before the break, when one of their strikers beat the offside trap and hooked the ball home for his team‘s first goal in six games.

A big lug.

It wasn’t much different in the second half, although with both keepers looking like they’d rarely played in goal before, there was always the chance of something coming out of nothing.

As time went on the sky grew darker and with twenty minutes to go the thunder and lightning looked to be no more than a field or two away. By this point most people were huddled at the back of the stand. Others had decided to make a run for it and see if they could reach their cars before the rain started. We joined them.

Time to go.

We reached the car just as the rain came down and the ref led the on-field charge for the dressing room. Apparently lightning was the official reason for suspending play but I wouldn’t have wanted to be outside in that weather regardless. As we drove away the rain was bouncing back up off the road and was already forming large pools.

A quick check the next day confirmed that the teams did return, but neither managed a goal and Witbank held on for the win.

I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that nobody is ever more than ten feet away from a rat, although I’ve no idea where the theory comes from. Rentokill probably. Still, it’s likely to be true in some places I suppose and I’d hazard a guess that Johannesburg is one of them.

On the drive to this game we went through a few parts of the city that looked as if they get their rubbish collected annually and in an indication of what was to come I noticed a squashed rat at the roadside.

The match was at the Bidvest Wits stadium inside the University of Johannesburg and it’s not the easiest of places to find or get into. After picking up a visitors pass we made our way through most of the campus before ditching the car in a car park designated for post-graduate students. I reckoned there would be more chance that one of them might drive a year-old Corolla and perhaps it wouldn’t look as much out of place as elsewhere.

I was surprised to see security on the gate to the ground as this was a reserve team game, or more accurately, a Multichoice Diski Challenge fixture. It’s a new competition intended to give younger players on the fringes of the PSL squads an alternative to being loaned out to first division sides. I was even more surprised when the security fella told us we couldn’t take a couple of cans of coke in with us. Whatever. I’m beyond kicking up a fuss.

The Main Stand

Bidvest Wits were taking on Orlando Pirates and whilst the home side had the best of the early possession, the visitors had a couple of decent chances of their own. They stopped for a water break on twenty-five minutes and at the restart one of the Wits player got to the byeline and crossed for a team-mate to score with a Trevor Brooking header.

I’m confident that Brooking must have scored more than one header in his playing career before moving on to protecting West Ham’s interests from within the FA, but I’m equally confident that if you are of a certain age then you’ll be able to picture just exactly how that Wits goal looked.

I’d assumed that most of the hundred and forty fans in attendance were supporting the Pirates, but that opening goal got a decent cheer.

View from the Main Stand.

At half time Jen and I nipped back to the car park to drink the cans that had been too dangerous to bring in. For the second half we decided to sit near the corner flag on the opposite side of the pitch.

Rat corner.

Moving over to the far corner turned out to be the best decision of the day as meant that we were in Rat City.

Quite cute in a way.

There was a wall to our right that consisted of as much hole as brick. It was perfect for rat housing and we spent most of the second half watching rats collecting food, building nests and even sunbathing.

Yes, sunbathing. Really.

The highlight though was seeing one rat moving pink baby rats from one hole to another in its mouth and then what appeared to be a different rat moving them back again. I’m not sure if one rat was stealing them and the other recovering them or whether we were witnessing a house swap.

Whatever was going on, it was compelling viewing.

Doing rat stuff.

Back on the pitch, a late goal from the Pirates after a scramble inside the six yard box looked to have earned the visitors a point until Wits nipped straight up the other end to score a last minute winner. I missed that one as I was waiting to see what one of the rats would have in its mouth when reappearing from the rat baby hole.

Meanwhile, there was a match going on.

So, there we are. A Sunday lunchtime game and a wildlife class all at the same time. It doesn’t get much better than that.

I’d been meaning to get along to watch Witbank Spurs all of last season, but other stuff always seemed to crop up whenever they had a game. However, with the new National First Division season just a week old, a spare afternoon coincided with their opening home fixture.

Witbank normally play their games in Witbank. No surprise there really. This one though was another half an hour away along the N4 at the Themba Senemba stadium in Middelburg. I did wonder if the change of venue was a consequence of the service delivery protests that have been taking place in Witbank lately.

Apparently if the electricity goes off for a while, the appropriate response from the residents is to burn the local library down. That’ll show ‘em. If that doesn’t have the required impact you then escalate matters by setting fire to a few of your neighbours as well. Maybe they should march on the local power station when the library doesn’t have the latest Jeffrey Archer in.

Main Stand.

The sat nav got me to the ground about ten minutes before kick-off. It looked to be a fairly poor area around the stadium, but I’ve been to worse. On the plus side, I didn’t get a call from the security manager at work asking what the hell I was doing there. His lack of interest boded well.

It was fifteen rand admission and that entitled me to take my car inside too and park it by the edge of the pitch. Very handy, as it meant I could keep an eye on it during the game. It’s a pity that they don’t have that option at Anfield to save me from having to pay protection money to eight year old scouse kids.

Mine’s the Corolla.

Although I could have watched the game from my car I made my way around to the stand on the opposite side of the pitch. There weren’t any seats but the steel structure was marginally more comfortable that the usual concrete floor.

There were around thirty people sat in the stand with another fifty or so dotted around the remaining sides of the pitch. I had a chat with a couple of locals who thought the organisation was a bit shambolic. It seemed pretty good to me, although I suppose I’m comparing it with the likes of Korea, where lower league games are often moved from one ground to another with no notification.

View from the Main Stand.

Witbank were playing in Argentina strips, whilst visitors Cape Town All-stars were in green. It had only been a month since I’d watched Cape Town gain promotion from the Second Division and their three-week close season seemed a little unfair on them.

The home side opened the scoring early on with a cracking goal from  right-winger Themba. The ball fell to him on the edge of the box and he volleyed it home via the underside of the bar.

Cape Town had a couple of chances to level before the break but a lack of composure in front of goal meant that they went in behind at half-time.

Cape Town on the attack.

Witbank doubled their lead not long into the second half with another shot from distance, this time from  Ngobe, who celebrated with a double somersault. The half-arsed effort from the keeper to stop it earned him a few minutes of derision from the home crowd.

I’d noticed that the fourth official had a FIFA badge on his shirt and tracksuit. I bet not many FIFA refs in England spend their Sunday afternoons holding up the substitutions board at a game of a similar standard to Northern League.

Maradona makes his appearance.

Witbank seemed the bigger of the two sides, certainly at the back anyway, and with an even larger fella sat in front of the centre-halves they made life difficult for Cape Town. There were still cars coming into the ground as the game drew to a close with the home side secure in their two goal advantage.

So, that was it for the temporary Middelburg location and a stadium that I doubt I’d have got to if the Witbank residents hadn’t been so hasty with their petrol cans and lighters. Hopefully they will resist the urge to burn their local stadium to the ground and I’ll be able to see a game there at some point too.

Sometimes things don’t work out the way that you expected. The initial reason for us being in Durban had been to see a Sharks Super Rugby game that ended up being played in Christchurch, New Zealand. Oh well. On the other hand though, sometimes things work out very nicely and this ended up being one of those times.

The SAFA Second Division is a competition that I’ve struggled to get to grips with. It’s the third tier of league football in South Africa and gets virtually no coverage either online, in the papers or on the telly. I can’t even find out which teams play in the various regional leagues, never mind  the fixtures or results. This weekend though, I got lucky as the play-offs for promotion to the First Division took place whilst we were in town.

If you were thinking that the end of July seems a bit late to be holding the play-offs, you’d have a fair point. As there is such minimal coverage though, I’ve no idea why they wouldn’t be concluded until just a fortnight before the new season starts.

The winners of each of the nine regional Second Division leagues had spent the past week in Durban. They had been divided into two groups with the plan being that the winner of each group would earn promotion. The two group winners then got the chance to play each other to determine the overall Second Division Champions.

The final was scheduled to take place on Sunday at 3pm in Umlazi, a township a few miles outside of Durban. That gave Jen and I the opportunity to stroll along  the seafront beforehand in the winter sun.

You can see the new World Cup stadium in the background.

The beaches at Durban are busy from early morning with surfers, blokes with metal detectors and people taking their dog for a shite. There were few sunbathers, but I imagine it’s packed in the summer.

The highlight of the morning was watching what I assume was a crane of some sort catching and then taking its time to eat a large grasshopper.

Only one winner in that battle.

After an outdoor lunch we set off for the King Goodwill Zwelithini Stadium. If you hadn’t already guessed it’s named after the current King of the Zulus. I’d hoped that he might have made an appearance, after all, it’s not every day your stadium hosts a Second Division play-off final.

His Majesty had other things to do though, spending the weekend out of town marrying his sixth wife in a ceremony that was expected to accommodate four thousand invited guests and up to forty thousand gate crashers. He should be fine for toasters after that.

The new Queen and a couple of her bridesmaids.  Nice frocks.

We didn’t have to look too hard for the stadium, with it being right next to the Mangosuthu highway. Parking was easy enough too, as we just drove into the VIP car park giving the security fella a cheery wave on the way in as if we parked there every day of the week. Using the car park also enabled us to skip the turnstiles as it had direct access to the stadium. I’m not sure if there was an admission charge for everyone else, but it looked as if people were just wandering in.

The Zwelithini Stadium had been tarted up for the 2010 World Cup, as the intention had been for it to be used as a training pitch. I don’t think it got used in the end, which isn’t surprising when you consider the number of more convenient alternative pitches in Durban itself.

The improvements consisted of a main covered stand and concrete terracing around the other three sides. It looked as if people would have just stood on the grass banks before then.

The main stand.

With both teams normally playing their home games a few hours drive away, I wasn’t expecting much of a crowd. As usual, people were drifting in throughout the first half and I’d estimate that there were around three hundred or so altogether.

We were sat in the main stand and there were definitely a few people nearby supporting Cape Town All Stars, although they might very well have been squad members who hadn’t made it into the dugout for the final.

On the other side of the pitch there were a handful of Highlands Park fans. One of them had lapped the pitch beforehand splashing the grass with what looked like Coke. It was in a Coke bottle anyway. In hindsight, it might very well have been some sort of ‘holy water’. There’s a spring we drive past on the way to Pretoria that people collect water from for use in church services and I suppose it’s more likely that it was something like that rather than actual Coke. Who knows though.

Highland Parks fans.

We had a few potential WAGs turn up too, although they did seem far more glamorously dressed than they’d need to be to bag a Second Division footballer.  I’d have thought that they might have been better off crashing the King’s wedding in the hope of catching his eye and becoming bride number seven. The going rate for a royal bride is twenty cows, which I reckon would be beyond most of the lads on the pitch.

Incidentally, I was chatting with a women at work about the payments for a bride. Lobolo, they call it. It’s usually paid in cows, although quite how appropriate that would be if you lived in a block of flats I don’t know. Maybe you could keep them in the bride-to-be’s old bedroom.

She also told me that when negotiations get bogged down the budding groom might offer a sheep or even a chicken to up the price a little without having to stretch to a whole extra cow.

Highland Parks on the attack.

With promotion already clinched for both sides I was hoping for an entertaining game. There was a fair bit of money at stake though with a million rand destined for the winners and half that for the runners up. That’s serious money at this level. In fact it’s far higher prize money than that available in the First Division.

When the sponsorship was announced there were a few tongue in cheek comments that choosing to yo-yo between the first and second divisions would be a decent business plan for the First Division teams.

I’d settle for some of the sponsor’s money being spent on a website listing the fixtures.

View from the main stand.

The standard of play wasn’t bad, not too dissimilar to that of the top two divisions. Both sides kept it tight at the back with the only chance of any note in the first half coming when one of the Cape Town players clattered a long range shot against the bar.

Nobody got any closer to scoring in the second half and at full-time it went straight to penalties. Cape Town All Stars held their nerve and claimed the trophy with a 5-4 win. I’ll look forward to seeing both of the sides in the First Division in two weeks time.