Scottsville Horse Racing, Sunday 29th March 2015, noon.

June 12, 2015

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One of the reasons for heading over to Kwa-Zulu Natal for the weekend was it gave me a chance to see another of the South African racecourses. There’s only eight of them these days as both Arlington and Clairwood Park look as if they’ve closed down. Of the eight remaining tracks, Scottsville was the fifth of them that we’ve visited.

Concourse.

Concourse.

As is usual, if it isn’t one of the big meetings, admission and parking was free. We parked up about half a furlong out from the winning post and made our way towards the grandstand. I find it hard to separate in my memory most of the racecourses that we’ve been to out here as they all seem very similar.

It’s not like the UK where, in the main, the racecourses all have distinct features and character. Here it’s generally one big stand with just different levels of poshness in the viewing areas.

Towards the Finishing Post.

Towards the Finishing Post.

Another common feature is a restaurant with a buffet and as is becoming our regular practice we spent most of the afternoon in there.

I reckon that a table in a restaurant is the way to watch the racing over here. I’ll nip outside every now and then to see the horses parading or hammering up the home straight, but the rest of the time I’m content to eat, drink and look out of the window, whilst a waitress takes our bets at the table on both the live racing outside and the racing from elsewhere on the telly.

Inside the restaurant.

Inside the restaurant.

The buffet was less than a tenner a head which seemed particularly cheap when I realised it included soft drinks as well.

Parade Ring.

Parade Ring.

As for the betting, well, we had just one winner all afternoon but with it being returned at fifteen to one we left a few rand ahead.

Sunfoil Dolphins v Cape Cobras, Sunday 29th March 2015, 9am

May 20, 2015

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It’s the end of another cricket season out here and when I saw that the Dolphins were playing their final first class game at Pietermaritzburg Oval I thought it would be a pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning before heading off to the horse racing at nearby Scottsville.

Sunday was the fourth and final day and I’d been following the game’s progress on Cricinfo in the hope that it would actually make it that far. The Cobras had batted first and got close to six hundred before bowling out the Dolphins cheaply and making them follow on.

By close of play on the Saturday night the home side had just four second innings wickets remaining and still needed 126 more runs to make the Cobras bat again. With that in mind I wasn’t expecting play to last for long the next day and so Jen and I set off early enough from Durban to be there for the nine o’clock start.

The City Oval sits in Alexandra Park and is just the sort of place that I like to watch cricket. It’s the sort of venue that I’d expect everyone to like to watch cricket. Surrounded by trees, the only permanent looking structure is a Victorian Pavilion, although the ‘temporary’ seating around part of the perimeter looks like it has been there for at least forty years, probably longer.

It's so nineteenth century.

It’s so nineteenth century.

I took a walk around the field and read the series of plaques that outlined some of the history of the place. It has hosted a few MCC touring teams in the past and the feats of the likes of Bill Edrich at the ground are recorded for people like me to stumble upon.

One plaque commemorated the planting of a tree by Denis Compton in 1957. Fortunately he had selected a spot beyond the boundary rope, mindful perhaps of the tree on the other side of the ground that was infringing on the outfield by a good five yards.

Denis Compton's tree.

Denis Compton’s tree.

I hadn’t realised that this was one of only two first class grounds with a tree inside the boundary. I was familiar with the one at Kent, but had assumed that this would have been a quirk of quite a few grounds around the world. It isn’t  though and if the original damaged tree at Canterbury hadn’t been replaced a few years ago then this one would have been unique.

Who planted that?

Who planted that?

We didn’t quite make it in time for the start of play, missing the first three balls. At that stage there was only one other spectator, an old fella with the look of someone whose wife had sent him outside in the early morning with an instruction to keep out of her way until dinner time.

We were joined for five minutes or so by a couple of young lads who I think were just looking for somewhere to sit down for a while. A family of four then briefly swelled the crowd as they walked around the outfield on their way to somewhere else.

Then there were two.

Then there were two.

The Dolphins held out until the third over of the morning before losing their seventh wicket and within three further overs two more of their batsmen were back in that 1898 pavilion with just four runs added to their overnight score.

I had been hoping for a little bit more resistance than they put up but I suppose with the result being a foregone conclusion and it also being the final day of the season, everyone involved will have had somewhere else that they’d rather have been. There seemed little likelihood of anyone seeking to prolong matters for the benefit of the three of us in the crowd.

And one for Eric.

And one for Eric.

The last wicket pair held out for twenty minutes, which was at least fifteen minutes more than I had thought they would, adding another five runs before Beuran Hendricks brought the Dolphins innings to a close and another season to an end.

 

Durban Sharks v Western Force, Saturday 28th March 2015, 5.05pm

May 10, 2015

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We’d had completely different plans for this Durban weekend. The South African FA had announced a friendly against Argentina and we’d intended to travel on the overnight posh train. As you might have come to expect it didn’t turn out quite as we’d hoped.

Firstly the Premier Classe train service between Johannesburg and Durban was discontinued and then, after I’d booked flight tickets instead, the South African FA revealed that they’d decided not to bother with the Argentina game after all. Instead, they would play Nigeria. So, no Messi, although he would probably have played little more than a cameo in a friendly anyway. On the plus side, Nigeria meant Ken Omerou and he’s near enough a Boro player.

It wasn’t to be though as the South African FA then decided to switch the venue for the game from Durban to Nelspruit. Nelspruit! It’s nearly seven hundred kilometres away from Durban. I can understand that there might have been problems, probably financial, in getting the Argies over, although I’d have preferred that they addressed them before announcing the fixture, but moving the game against the replacement opponents seven hundred kilometres didn’t seem to have much to justify it.

Fortunately there was other stuff going on in Durban and we revised our Saturday plans to include a morning walk at the Kenneth Stainbank Nature Reserve followed by the Super Rugby game between the Sharks and Western Force.

We didn’t see much on the ten kilometre hike. A few zebras and plenty of bugs but the monkeys that we’d watched on our last visit were nowhere around.

I don't recall seeing anything like this on my Dad's cabbages.

I don’t recall seeing anything like this on my Dad’s cabbages.

A twenty-minute walk along the seafront took us to the Kings Park stadium. We arrived ten minutes or so before kick-off and it was still fairly busy outside.

Kings Park Stadium

Kings Park Stadium

We had seats in the Western Stand, which looked quite a lot older than the much taller and steeper Eastern Stand opposite. Getting a drink was easy enough, with two bars servicing the upper section. It was good to see that the Sharks management understand that when you go to the rugby you have a drink. We’ve got a few fellas at work who follow the Bulls, despite their policy of making you drink in a field outside of the ground. Madness.

View from the Western Stand.

View from the Western Stand.

A couple of minutes into the game a pigeon sitting up in the roof crapped on Jen. It missed her head but left a Wagon Wheel size deposit on her jeans. Fortunately the crowd probably wasn’t more than seven or eight thousand and we were able to move to seats that didn’t have pigeons loitering above.

Half-time.

Half-time.

The game itself was fairly poor with both sides making frequent handling and kicking errors. If I was a supporter of either side I imagine I’d have been pretty frustrated with the performance. As it is, I don’t give a toss who wins these games and am there purely for that odd moment of skill that makes it all worthwhile.

Moses Mahiba to the right.

Moses Mabhida to the right.

I suppose the best bit of the action was a Shark’s try from Lwazi Mvovo. As the home side ran out 15-9 winners I couldn’t help but glance over to the nearby Moses Mabhida stadium. It’s where I should have been watching Messi.

 

Platinum Stars v Mamelodi Sundowns, Sunday 22nd March 2015, 3pm

April 23, 2015

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This weekend started with the second of Jen’s races. It was a half-marathon this time at Hartbeespoort and with a 6.20am start we spent the night before in a hotel near to the start line.

The early morning melee seemed a bit chaotic to me with 50k, 10k and 5k races all taking place in addition to the half marathon. To make matters worse, lots of runners arrived late and were forced to fight their way through the people lining up for the next race just to make the start line. I know that there will be people who have put a lot of time and effort into organising the event but it seemed to me that the best solution would be to have four separate events spread over the year. People could even run all four races that way.

Anyway, once the half marathon was underway I retired to MacDonalds to read the paper before returning to the finish to see Jen record a personal best time.

And they're off!

And they’re off!

Once the race was over we headed off to Pilanesberg National Park. The highlight of the first day was watching a couple of jackals feeding on a bird at one of the lakes. They didn’t want to share, meaning that the dominant one spent as much time chasing away the other one as it did eating his dinner.

The second jackal had just started eating when a group of elephants drinking nearby decided that they’d rather the jackal wasn’t there and by advancing in a tightly packed group, chased it away. The jackal wasn’t prepared to leave the bird though and backed away to the required distance pulling the carcass with it.

Jackal and its dinner.

Jackal and its dinner.

Next morning at the same lake we spent some time watching baboons climbing a tree and then jumping into the water. Some were happy to be doing it just for the fun of the splash whilst some were trying to push others into the water. There would be the odd chase or fight but it was mostly just leaping into the lake for the fun of it. I half expected one of them to shout “Geronimo“ on the way in.

"Geronimo"

“Geronimo”

On the way back home from Pilanesberg we called in at the Royal Bafokeng Stadium for the Nedbank Cup last sixteen game between Platinum Stars and Mamelodi Sundowns. It’s a ground that I’d been to before, for a game between New Zealand and Slovakia in the 2010 World Cup, but oddly I didn’t realise this until afterwards.

In fact, I spent the game wondering why the ground I was in hadn’t been used for the World Cup when it looked so similar to the nearby stadium with the almost identical name that I falsely recalled from five years ago. In my defence we did approach it from a different direction and sat in other areas of the stands, but even so. Maybe it’s old age.

On the way in.

On the way in.

We parked on a field a couple of hundred yards away which was filling up with Sundowns fans. There wasn’t much in the way of security and with our weekend bags visible in the back of the car I wasn’t all that confident that they would still be there when we got back.

We were thoroughly searched on the way in and ended up two bottles of coke and a chocolate bar down. What’s the point of taking a chocolate bar from someone? Would they do it to a small child?

Hat of the Day

Hat of the Day

There were still ten minutes to kick-off when we took our seats in the middle tier of the main stand. At that stage there were probably more fans outside than there were in the stadium. Nobody, except us, ever seems in a hurry to get into games over here and there were still people turning up well into the second half. We saw a group of kids who had been in the parking field when we arrived finally reach their seats twenty minutes in. Perhaps they’d been arguing over having their chocolate confiscated.

View from the main stand

View from the main stand

The Sundowns fans were congregated opposite us and made up the majority of the three or four thousand crowd. They made plenty of noise though, keeping up the singing all game.

The Platinum Stars support was harder to spot. They had a few fans up near us, but there were as many Chiefs and Pirates shirts as their own. It was only on the twenty five minute mark when their brass band turned up that the home fans started to get behind their team.

The Boys in the Band

The Boys in the Band

We changed seats for the second half, braving the risk of rain to sit further round in the open section. When the rain eventually arrived we nipped downstairs and took up seats in the back row of the lower tier, under the overhang. That’s one of the advantages of small crowds.

The main stand

The main stand

And the game? Well, Sundowns looked the better side. They always do look the better side in those Brazil strips. They took the lead on the half hour before Stars levelled  close to half-time. With the prospect of extra time looming, Sundowns settled matters with two goals in the last few minutes.

Chiefs and Pirates both went out of the competition the previous day and Sundowns will no doubt fancy their chances of picking up the cup.

Superstars v Hungry Lions, Sunday 15th March 2015, 1.30pm

April 17, 2015

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As we were driving north towards the Jeppes Reef border post between Swaziland and South Africa I noticed a match taking place in the field to our right. There were signs for Mkhuzweni High School and so I presume the pitch was something to do with that. We had plenty of time and so I thought I’d stop for a look.

View from behind the goal.

View from behind the goal.

My yardstick as to whether something is a proper game rather than a kickabout is whether there are linesmen or not. This one had them, but the grass down one side of the pitch was so long that you could only see that particular fella from the knees up.

Note the length of the grass behind them.

Note the length of the grass behind them.

The subs and coaches were sheltering under separate trees and after taking a few photos I wandered over to have a word. One bloke introduced himself as the boss of Superstars, the team in the red. He went on to clarify that he was the owner of the team, not just the manager and then tried to tap me up for sponsorship. One thousand, five hundred rand would buy ten pairs of boots. Maybe one of the players already had a pair.

Superstars dugout.

Superstars dugout.

I noticed that one of his subs was in bare feet and so gave him the hundred and fifty rand that would apparently buy him a pair. There weren’t many spectators, but maybe they had been on the receiving end of ‘sponsorship‘ requests in the past. One fella was sat in the back of his pick up, but everyone else could very well have been with the teams.

The main stand.

The main stand.

It seemed that the boss of the Superstars had been paying more attention to his business development duties than the activities on the pitch as whilst he was able to tell me that the opposition were the Hungry Lions, he wasn’t sure what the score was. Oh, well.

View from the side.

View from the side.

With a few hours drive ahead of us, we took the opportunity to move on fairly sharpish before my wallet got any lighter.

 

Mbabane Highlanders v Royal Leopards, Sunday 15th March 2015, 10am

April 8, 2015

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Jen and I had been spending the weekend at the Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary in Swaziland and with the football game I had in mind not starting until ten we had time to go for a walk beforehand. Swaziland is hot and humid at this time of year and so our 6am start made it a lot more enjoyable.

There was a seven kilometre trail that looped around a lake and so we just followed that. Early on we got up close enough to a bok that I could probably have touched it if I’d wanted. Fiddling with the wildlife is frowned upon by the authorities though and so I just stared it out.

Later on, as we walked by the edge of the lake we got within a few feet of a crocodile. Not quite close enough to touch it, but I was fine with that. It seemed less impressed with us than vice-versa and submerged all bar its nostrils under the water.

Somewhere should sell a plastic version for fish ponds.

Somewhere should sell a plastic version for fish ponds.

After checking out we headed for the Manzini Club in Mbabane for a game in the Premier Reserve League. It’s a newish competition, I think, intended to give more competitive action to the under twenties at the Premier League clubs.

There was a sign outside the gate stating that the Manzini Club was a members-only institution. I’m not really one for joining clubs, I was a junior member of Norton Cricket Club as a kid and signed up to Lyndhurst Working Mens Club a few years ago when working down by the New Forest. Even if either of those clubs had reciprocal arrangements with the Manzini Club, my memberships had long since lapsed.

Highlanders v Leopards

Highlanders v Leopards

In the end, it didn’t matter as there was nobody on the gate and we pulled into a car park behind one of the goals. The game had just kicked off and there was a policewoman watching from a few feet up a tree with her semi-automatic rifle was hanging from a branch nearby. Hopefully that would deter any potential car thieves.

There was a temporary stand to one side of the pitch and we joined the thirty or so people sitting along the one shaded row at the back. As the game went on a few more spectators arrived with most of them preferring to sit under the trees behind the goal at the car park end.

The Main Stand.

The Main Stand.

Leopards, in the blue strips, took the lead with a penalty midway through the first half and then added a second just before the break. At half-time the players didn’t use the dressing rooms but instead camped out under separate trees. Not surprisingly they were keen to get on with the game and it was only ten minutes before the second half started.

Half-time

Half-time

Whilst I was doing my best to keep up with play I was frequently distracted by Billy Casper in the Highlanders goal. He looked far too slight to be a keeper and his kit seemed on the large side for him. The Casper connection was enhanced by him swinging on the bar at one point.

His shirt didn’t help any hope he had of being taken seriously, with it turning brown about a third of the way down. It looked as if he had stuffed it down a drain the night before and then retrieved it on the way to the game.

Billy Casper

Billy Casper

The Highlanders fought back early in the second half, pulling one back when one of their players chased a long ball and poked it past the Leopards keeper. Two minutes later a diving header put them on level terms.

Leopards restored their lead with a quarter of an hour remaining via a twice-taken penalty and then spent the remaining fifteen minutes wasting as much time as possible. Their goalie was the worst culprit, probably because the ref couldn’t make him leave the field for treatment. He didn’t even need the ball to come near him to sustain an injury, dropping to the ground on two occasions when the action was in the other half.

Another penalty.

Another penalty.

Justice was done in the ninety-fourth minute when the Highlanders got their equaliser, again through a twice taken penalty. By this time I’d lost patience with the Leopards tactics and whilst I didn’t celebrate quite so enthusiastically as the Highlanders supporters around me, I was very happy to see them snatch a point.

 

 

Royal Leopards v Petro de Luanda, Saturday 14th March 2015, 3.30pm

March 31, 2015

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Swaziland is less than four hours drive from where we live but after a year and a half in South Africa, we still hadn’t got around to going there. I think I’d subconsciously been hanging on to try to combine any visit with the Reed Dance. You know the one I mean, it’s that ceremony where as a way of helping the King select another bride the local women dance around their handbags without their blouses on.

I’ve no time for the monarchy, but if we had events like that outside of Buckingham Palace I imagine I could probably put my Republican sympathies to one side for the afternoon.

In the absence of any royal events involving girls in states of undress it was the prospect of seeing the Swazi Police team Royal Leopards in the equivalent of a UEFA Cup game against a side from Angola that proved sufficient to tempt us over the border.

We stayed at the Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary in what was described as a beehive hut. I can’t imagine anything worse than staying in a giant beehive, perhaps except a giant wasp or hornet‘s nest, but as there weren’t any bees inside it worked out fine.

Beehive hut

Beehive hut

The Somhlolo National stadium in Lobamba was only ten minutes drive away from our hut and there was plenty of parking on the field outside. Soon after paying our thirty Swazi wotsits on the gate we heard our car alarm going off, but fortunately we were close enough to be able to use the remote to silence it. I spent the rest of the game wondering what might have been nicked.

We watched  the first half in the South Stand behind one of the goals. The main West Stand housed most of the spectators, with a handful in the North and one or two loitering on the grassy terrace to our right.

View from the South Stand

View from the South Stand

We attracted a little more attention than we usually do, starting with a fella in a Kaizer Chiefs shirt who was insistent that I tried some of his home-brewed morula. It was a cloudy beige liquid and he had two litres of it in an old coke bottle. I detected a hint of apple in my quick swig with perhaps the slight bouquet of anti-freeze. Whatever it had been made from, it certainly had a kick to it.

We were then joined by a small girl who quietly exchanged pleasantries with Jen before asking her for money.

The game kicked off five minutes early at twenty-five past three. They wouldn’t get away with that at the Riverside where people have the timing of downing their final pre-match pint down to a fine art. Mind you, missing the first five minutes at the Riverside due to an earlier than scheduled kick-off wouldn’t be as bad as the game kicking off later than planned and you arriving in your seat to discover that you have five minutes of Me Mark Page’s gobshitery to contend with.

Hat of the day.

Hat of the day.

Royal Leopards had done well to be in the current round of the CAF Confederations Cup. They’d lost the away leg of the previous tie at Bidvest Wits three-nil, but had then rallied at home to turn it around and get through. Oh Massimo.

The hosts  looked to have their work cut out in this round too as with game no more than five minutes old the Angolans, in yellow and blue, converted a cross from the left at the near post.

Leopards equalised midway through the first half with a penalty after a contentious handball. The linesman flagged for it just a few minutes after ruling that a shot that had bounced down from the Petro crossbar hadn’t crossed the line. I felt that each decision could have gone either way and suspected that the linesman felt under pressure not to rule against the home side twice in quick succession.

One each.

One each.

At half time I bought a couple of pieces of grilled chicken. I could have had beef or pork, but I couldn’t peel off the skin from those as I could with the chicken and as the lad on the stall seemed to have minimal interest in chasing away the flies that kept landing on the food, chicken seemed marginally safer.

Half-time snacks.

Half-time snacks.

For the second half we moved to the South Stand, mainly to avoid the prospect of any more morula. We were successful, although we did end up handing over twenty rand each to a six year old girl selling what we subsequently discovered was probably tap water in re-filled plastic bottles.

Tap water and nuts.

Tap water and nuts.

Ten minutes after the re-start a goalmouth scramble ended up with Leopards taking the lead and a mass celebration that included all of the bench and a couple of the ball boys. They couldn’t hold on though and Petro squared the game with a quarter of an hour to go to set themselves up nicely for the second leg.

Amatuks v Mpumalanga Black Aces, Saturday 28th February 2015, 3.30pm

March 23, 2015

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Jen and I make an effort to go somewhere each weekend. After all, what’s the point of working around the world if you don’t try and see as much of it as you can? Sometimes though, we don’t go very far and this weekend was one of those occasions.

There’s a nature reserve about half an hour away from where we live that we’ve stayed at a few times. We can hike on a morning and have a fire on an evening. Sometimes when we are hiking we stumble across interesting stuff like bones, warthog tusks or porcupine quills. During the hike this weekend we got luckier and found an ostrich egg. It was cold and abandoned, but we left it until the next morning to be sure.

From what I’ve heard, ostrich eggs can be difficult to open. I’ve read about people having to use a hacksaw on them. I kept it simple though and just hoyed it at a rock. We’d been hoping that there might have been a partly developed embryo inside, but disappointingly there was just yolk and albumen. Lots of it. Still, it exploded in such a satisfying way that I’d like to drop the next one from an upstairs window.

It was even better than smashing a telly.

It was even better than smashing a telly.

In the spare time between hiking and lighting fires we went to the match. The University of Pretoria team, Amatuks, were at home to Mpumalanga Black Aces in the Premier league and in keeping with the local nature of the weekend it wasn’t much more than half an hour‘s drive away.

Security was tight at Tuks Stadium, although they didn’t mind us taking bottles of coke and a camera in with us, items that we’ve had knocked back elsewhere. Jen noticed a cricket game taking place on a pitch behind one of the stands and by taking up residence in the media seats at the top of the stand we were able to reposition our stools to watch that game until the football started.

I couldn’t find out which teams were playing, but the two of us just about doubled their crowd. I kept missing wickets falling by being distracted by events on the football pitch, but I did see a bowler attempt to ‘Mankad‘ the non-striking batsman. Even though the batsman got away with it, the fuss might very well have unsettled his partner who was dismissed next ball.

Pretoria University cricket.

Pretoria University cricket.

When the football started we stayed in the media area. I’m rarely challenged if I’m somewhere that I’m not supposed to be and as there were more stools and desk space than reporters I felt that we weren’t doing any harm.

In fact we must have looked at home there as towards the end of the game a liaison person came over to advise us that the post-match interviewing of players and managers would take place in the tunnel. I had half a mind to nip down and pursue the Five Star on Going Live! style of questioning with them but reluctantly resisted the temptation.

All of the real reporters strolled up close to kick-off.  All that is except the bloke next to us who turned up twenty-five minutes after the game had started. He didn’t seem concerned to have missed Amatuks going a goal up and spent most of the remainder of the first half checking his emails.

View to the left.

View to the left.

There were a couple of players that stood out. For Amatuks it was their Ugandan striker Geoffrey Massa. He carried a bit of weight but made up for his lack of athleticism with his speed of thought.

The trouble was though that he didn’t make any allowances for those of his team mates without those extra yards in their heads and he would regularly thread passes through the Black Aces defence that his colleagues didn’t realise were going to happen until the chance had long gone.

View to the right.

View to the right.

For the visitors it was Zimbabwean Tendai Ndoro who made the biggest impression.  Initially that was more down to his haircut and sulky attitude than anything worthwhile but five minutes before half-time he calmly cancelled out Amatuks opening goal with an assured finish.

Haircut of the day.

Haircut of the day.

The highlight of the second half was the arrival of a  hundred or so Amatuks fans fresh from their team’s victory in the competition for reserve sides, the Multichoice Diski Challenge. I’d thought about going myself but it was a further hour or more drive away and so I’d settled for the local option.

Late arrivals.

Late arrivals.

Twelve minutes from time Amatuks clinched the win when Black Aces failed to clear the ball and some fella half volleyed home at the back post.

 

 

Maritzburg City v Amajuba United, Saturday 21st February 2015, 3pm

March 18, 2015

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A couple of months before Christmas Jen started running. Not in a Forrest Gump way that would have resulted in her being a few hundred miles away by now, but laps around the block. She’s stuck at it and as she can now run for ages without stopping, the next stage was try it out in an actual 10k race.

She picked one in Pietermaritzburg and so that’s where we went at the weekend. It was a big success. I watched the race from MacDonalds and in the time it took me to eat two breakfasts, Jen was finishing her run just outside of the prize money.

Pietermaritzburg 10k

Pietermaritzburg 10k

After the race we went for a hike at Albert Falls Dam. It was a choice made primarily because they have a camping ground where we were able to sneak into the showers, but it turned out to be a decent walk too. The animals were a bit more wary than they are at some places and we didn’t get too close to the wildebeest or zebra, but we got good views of a couple of fish eagles.

The smaller stuff was easier to look at. There were a few giant snails and plenty of grasshoppers. I’ve included a photo of a pair of grasshoppers mating, mainly so that I can tag it with ‘grasshopper porn’ and see what traffic it drives to the blog.

Grasshopper porn

Grasshopper porn

We saw some frogs too and one of them very kindly sat still whilst I stuck the camera about two inches from its face. I’m sure there’s some special macro setting or something for that sort of shot but, as with most things in life, I tend not to bother learning how do something properly and rely instead on just hoping for the best. I’ve found over the years that it’s a lot less effort and there’s usually minimal difference in the outcome.

A frog.

A frog.

Of course, as soon as I knew we were going to Pietermaritzburg for the weekend I put the effort in to look at the sporting options. They have a Premier League team, Maritzburg United, but they were playing away. There’s a team that plays in the third tier ABC Motsephe League though, Maritzburg City, and conveniently they were at home on the Saturday.

City play just outside of Pietermaritzburg at the Wadley Stadium in the Georgetown township. I wonder when the term ‘township‘ will be replaced by just ‘town‘? It sounds so much better, a bit like the way that streets in every new housing development in England are called things like Badger Glade or Honeysuckle Meadow even if they are sandwiched between the sewage works and an industrial estate.

Unusually for a lower league ground, Wadley Stadium appeared on the satnav and benefited from decent signposting. The twenty minute drive from the city centre took us through some fairly poor areas, although people seemed quite happy to let their goats and cows graze unattended by the side of the road or in the central reservation.

I presume that the fear of retribution from the local Mr Big was sufficient to deter people from flinging the odd ruminant into the back of their pick-up and speeding off.

View from the main stand.

View from the main stand.

Wadley Stadium was just what I look for in a ground. For a start, it was where it was supposed to be. It also had brick terracing to a couple of sides and a decent backdrop, this time houses up in the hills.

The game had just kicked off when we got there and there were already three or four hundred people watching, mainly from the top couple of terracing steps down the side of the pitch and with some smaller groups behind the goal to our left. There was also some tiered seating opposite for those people who didn’t want the background of the hills.

Fans behind the goal.

Fans behind the goal.

Maritzburg City were in blue, with their opponents in yellow and it was Amajuba who applied the early pressure. It didn’t count for much though as ten minutes in a ball over the top was stroked home by a City striker to put the home side a goal up.

The Amajuba keeper didn’t inspire a lot of confidence. It wasn’t so much his shot stopping, as he didn’t have too many shots to stop, it was more his general unorthodoxy. For example, when receiving backpasses he would flick the ball up into the air and then welly it downfield on the volley.

He might be ahead of his time but I tend to think that if his favoured method of distribution was any good then we’d see the professional keepers doing it on the telly every week.

View to the right.

View to the right.

Half an hour in it started to rain and so we got back in the car and took advantage of the parking area behind one of the goals. It reminded me of the days when those disability cars would park pitchside. In particular, I thought back to the play-off second leg at Stamford Bridge in ’88. I’m sure there were cars on the semi-circle of grass behind the goal at the Shed end. Can you imagine that these days? Although it would be a handy place for Jose to park the bus when he didn’t need it on the pitch.

We got to half-time without any further goals and in torrential rain Maritzburg ran for the dressing room whilst Amajuba had to make do with a minibus to our right.

The main stand.

The main stand.

When the second half resumed the subs for both sides remained exactly where they were, leaving a couple of lines of empty chairs at the side of the pitch. The ball boys had no desire to be outside in that weather either and so the fourth official was forced to do a lap of the pitch every now and again to do their jobs for them.

With a quarter of an hour to go Amajuba managed to squeeze the ball in at the City keeper’s near post prompting a mass celebration of Klinsmann dives. It was certainly appropriate in the conditions but it’s not something you’d expect to see too often on an artificial pitch.

As the game drew to a close the puddles on the pitch grew larger. There’s no way that the match would have started with the surface in that state but if the ref had called it off at that stage he probably have been strung up by the players.

After an hour of rain.

After an hour of rain.

Bang on ninety minutes Maritzburg got the winner, prompting an even bigger celebration than we’d seen earlier. This one involved fellas with umbrellas charging onto the pitch and a blast of car horns from what was now a full car park behind the goal.

At that point the rain eased up, allowing the ref to add a few minutes of injury time that would have been unthinkable in the earlier conditions. We even got the subs and ball-boys making a sheepish re-appearance.

 

Western Spurs v Sorento Bucs, Sunday 15th February 2015, 1pm

March 14, 2015

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After watching the closing stages of the morning game at Swakopmund Sports Centre Jen and I had driven into town to have a look around. Apparently the architecture is very German influenced but as I’m not expert on that sort of thing I’ll have to take their word for it.

One thing I was sure about though was that there were camels in Swakopmund. This surprised me as I’d assumed that they were more of a northern african thing. Perhaps someone just bought a few for the back garden on the basis that with all the sand Namibia has then they’d feel perfectly at home.

Swokopmund camels.

Swokopmund camels.

We stopped for something to eat at a hotel where we spotted a german couple that we had noticed in at least two of the places that we’d stayed earlier on the trip. I suppose that’s how it works with everyone using the same hotel review sites prior to booking.

In a nod to home I had a warthog parmo for lunch, or a schnitzel, which I suppose is near enough. It was certainly better than the ones I’ve had in Teesside although I suspect that may have been due to the quality of the ingredients and cooking rather than the warthog. Even so, I can’t imagine it replacing chicken or pork in the Norton High Street take-aways.

As we drove out of town after lunch on the way back to Walvis Bay I stopped at the Sports Centre on a whim, just on the off-chance that another game might be taking place. It’s not that unusual for a pitch to be well utilised on a weekend. As it happened, there were players on the pitch and so we parked the car.

Second game of the day.

Second game of the day.

We took up seats on the other side of the pitch this time and whilst the fella next to us on the raised platform was able to tell us that the score was one each, he struggled with the team names.

Fortunately the fourth official was only a few feet away and he was able to confirm that Western Spurs were taking on Sorento Bucs in another Erango regional second division game. He was also able to tell us that there was half an hour remaining and that Western Spurs were in blue, whilst Sorento Bucs wore yellow. I should have asked him what the story was with the camels.

The Bucs bench.

The Bucs bench.

The respective managers were good value for money, although with it being free to get in I’m not sure that’s necessarily the right term. The Sorento Bucs boss had a hat that Malcolm Allison would have been proud of, whilst the Western Spurs gaffer went the other way, deciding that bothering with shoes and socks was one distraction too many.

The Spurs bench.

The Spurs bench.

The play was end to end, with both teams seeming to fancy their chances of clinching the win. It was Spurs who pulled it off though when a cross from the right was nodded home ten minutes from time. We could have stayed on for a third game of the day, but the lure of the Boro’s game with Arsenal being on the telly had us heading back to Walvis Bay at the final whistle.

The two Swakopmund matches took the total for the ten day Namibian trip to five football games and a cricket match. I’d been confident of seeing football in Windhoek but the last two games were a definite bonus.

Namibia is a country that’s well worth a visit and with us not having got to the Skeleton coast or Etosha National Park on this trip, we’ve got every excuse to return.