Turffontein Horse Racing, Sunday 25th May 2014

May 27, 2014

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After eight months in South Africa Jen and I still hadn’t seen any horseracing and so on Sunday morning I decided to put that right. There are ten tracks across the country with two of them being in the province that we live in, Gauteng.

Turffontein is close to Johannesburg and from what I can discover, hosts a big race in November. This meeting though, was just a run of the mill autumn fixture with a smaller crowd hopefully making it easier to get in and then get around.

We managed to find the track by using the blue dot on the phone, but we had to do an entire circuit before we spotted a gate that was open. It wasn’t clear where we should park and so we followed the cars in front of us and ended up on the grass in front of the grandstand.

Ours is the silver Corolla.

Ours is the silver Corolla.

I think that by parking where we did, we somehow skipped the turnstiles and whatever admission fee was being charged. We still had to pass through a scanner, just in case we’d forgotten to leave our rocket launchers at home, but that done we were soon inside.

Turffontein dates back to the arse end of the nineteenth century and some of the buildings near to the turnstiles that we didn‘t go through looked reasonably original. The main grandstand is much newer though and is pretty impressive.

The grandstand.

The grandstand.

We took an escalator up to the second floor and found ourselves a table in an outdoor restaurant overlooking the track. Whilst it seemed quite posh, I had pie, chips and gravy for less than two quid.

The view from the restaurant.

The view from the restaurant.

We’d missed the first race but by the time the second race went off, I’d estimate that there were around five or six hundred people in attendance. There were tables and benches down by the parade ring and rows of seats in the grandstand below the restaurants.

Down by the front.

Down by the front.

In contrast to the UK, there wasn’t a great deal of drinking going on. There was an indoor pub on the second level of the grandstand, but apart from the people drinking at their open-air tables in the restaurants, I didn’t see anyone drinking outside.

Toothpicks seem popular.

Toothpicks seem popular.

There were no bookies either, with all of the betting being done on the Tote. I’m not a big fan of that as I think a lot of the fun comes from finding the best price for the horse you want to back, rather than hoping that a late flurry of cash for your selection won’t reduce your potential pay-out.

The parade ring

The parade ring

Whilst there was a dirt track towards the inside of the circuit, the nine races on the card were on grass. All on the flat, they started off at 1200m and progressed through to 1600m and then on to 1800m.

The finishing line.

The finishing line.

We got a couple of winners including one from Jen at 14/1 before picking up some mutton samosas from a stall on the way out.

Whilst I think that the day was enhanced by the low crowd and the ease of finding a table in the restaurant or a seat in the grandstand, I’m tempted to make a return visit for the big race in November.

 

Orlando Pirates v Wits University, Saturday 17th May 2014, 3pm.

May 21, 2014

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Saturday was Cup Final day, not just in England, but in South Africa too. Or rather it was Nedbank Cup Final day. I’ve no idea if Nedbank are an international bank, but if they are then they should open some branches in Scotland. I’m sure that they’d be very popular.

It’s a few weeks since I’ve seen a football game over here, what with the trip to the UK and then my kids coming over here for a visit. They’d have been happy to go to a match or two, but unfortunately none of the fixtures fell right. They did ok for wildlife stuff though.

I'm sure those sticks will be adequate.

I’m sure those sticks will be adequate.

There isn‘t a permanent venue for the Nedbank Cup Final and the South African FA wait until the finalists are known before announcing which ground will host the game. This year it was the Moses Mabhida stadium in Durban that got the nod. That worked out pretty well for Jen and I as we’d yet to get to that part of the country.

The Moses Mabhida Stadium.

The Moses Mabhida Stadium.

I’d seen plenty of notices in the football paper giving details of overnight coach trips from Johannesburg for Pirates fans. I’m getting a bit old for that sort of thing though, maybe I’ve always been too old for it, and so we took a one hour flight to Durban instead.

Arriving by air allowed us to notice just how green the land around Durban is. It’s a bit of a contrast from the clay and rocks of the Gauteng area. It was a lot warmer than Gauteng too, or at least it seemed like it as we sat out in the hotel garden for lunch.

Our hotel was one of those near the stadium.

Our hotel was one of those near the stadium.

It promised to be an interesting final, with Wits University, or the Clever Boys as they are nicknamed, being good enough to have finished third in the Premier league, whilst ‘bigger club’ Orlando Pirates had already lost in three cup finals over the season, including the African Champions League.

I initially wasn’t really sure which team I favoured, either with heart or head. They appeared to be quite evenly matched on the field and my usual preference for the bigger club to come unstuck was balanced against the thought that no team should lose four finals in a season.

It remember how sickening it was when the Boro lost two finals in 1997 and then another the following March, but four in a season? No, you can’t have that.

It was probably the Pirates fans that clinched my temporary allegiance. I reckon that they would rival the Kaizer Chiefs nationally in terms of numbers, but they are streets ahead in the characters that they have turning up at the games. They’ve got that crossed-arm salute too, that even the players did before the game acknowledging their supporters.

A couple of Pirates fans.

A couple of Pirates fans.

I’d read that the 54,000 seater stadium had sold out, but fortunately we’d bought our sixty rand tickets a few days earlier. That’s around three and a half quid. Not bad for a cup final. I put more than that in the donations bucket at the recent Alan Hood Memorial Trophy final and that‘s for teams competing in the thirteenth tier of English football. I suspect that the tickets for the Arsenal v Hull game at Wembley will have been a little more expensive too.

There were plenty of empty seats as we went through the turnstiles with around half an hour to go to kick-off, but the stadium continued to fill up throughout the whole of the first half and beyond. By the end, there were only really the seats in front of the executive boxes that were empty, whilst in places people were sat in the aisles or stood blocking the exits.

The Moses Mabhida stadium is a newish ground, built for the World Cup and whilst it has a fancy arch that you can zipline from when there isn’t a game on, I wasn’t impressed with the distance between the pitch and the stands. It’s as if they planned for a running track, but then just didn’t bother. If you are going to build a football stadium, particularly for a World Cup, then just build a football stadium with the stands close to the pitch.

It's an arch.

It’s an arch.

There weren’t many chances early on, with Wits taking the lead half an hour in. At that point the Pirates fans around us seemed to be expecting the worst. It wasn’t surprising really after the season that they’ve had.

I should have taken the camera with the zoom lens.

I should have taken the camera with the zoom lens.

The Pirates coach is renounced for bollocking his players and on this occasion the half-time hairdryer treatment did the trick. Within eight minutes of the re-start Orlando were level and they quickly went on to add another couple of goals.

There was a collective sense of relief from the Pirates fans as their team ran out the clock whilst the Wits players took out their frustration in a series of scuffles.

Fourth time lucky.

Fourth time lucky.

The full time whistle sparked an entertaining pitch invasion as a couple of hundred fans celebrated victory by dodging the stewards and vaulting over the electronic advertising boards. As it is the world over, most of them couldn’t resist holding their arms out ‘airplane style’ as they weaved their way across the turf.

I think that probably brings the South African football season to a close for me. There are a few lower division play-off games still to take place but I don’t think that we will get to any of them. Still, it’s not long to the World Cup.

 

 

Middlesbrough v Barnsley, Saturday 28th April 2014, 3pm

May 5, 2014

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I haven’t bothered writing about Boro games previously, but with this now being a general sporting blog I thought, why not? The main reason that I record this stuff is to help me to remember what I’ve seen and whilst one Boro game does tend to blur into another these days, it can’t do any harm. There’s also a possibility that the photos could be interesting in twenty years time or so if blogs still exist then.

My son Tom and I drove to Middlesbrough and parked up near the University. It’s where we used to park when the games had much bigger crowds, but as we walked towards the stadium it occurred to me that we could have parked in any number of much closer places. It struck me how few people were making their way to the match. The crowd seemed to have dropped significantly since my last game in September 2013, much more so than the official attendance figures would suggest.

The busker was still at the underpass, despite the likely drop in his takings. Sometimes I give him money. It’s a karma thing, to try to buy us a result. This was a meaningless end of season game though and as a win wouldn’t have made much difference to anything, he got bugger all.

He probably did quite well ten years ago.

He probably did quite well ten years ago.

The lack of a crowd was just as noticeable at the stadium and we didn’t need to queue for tickets. We didn’t need to give names and addresses either when we bought them, which is a first, I think, since the move to the Riverside.

Tom’s been coming to the match with me, on and off, since his first game at Ayresome Park as a two year old. The attendances and the league position have gone full circle since those days in the early nineties with the glory years in between starting to feel like something that happened somewhere else.

Half past two.

Half past two.

Our seats were in the South Stand, just behind the Red Faction lads. They get a bit of stick from some of the older fans, but I think a lot of them forget just how low the average age in the Holgate was. The Red Faction drummer must have been practicing over the winter as he’s improved a lot. Or else he’d been replaced by someone who can play. Either way, any atmosphere at all in the ground came from that group of a hundred or so kids.

Barnsley on the attack.

Barnsley on the attack.

There wasn’t much went on in the first half hour on the pitch. Barnsley needed the win to have a chance of staying up, but it was easy enough to see how they had ended up in the relegation area. The Boro weren’t much better in that opening thirty minutes but we managed to create a few chances as the half drew to a close.

Barnsley took an early lead after the re-start, but were soon pegged back. A couple of goals at the death gave Middlesbrough a win that was probably deserved, but of little consequence.

It’s strange, but the win didn’t mean much to me. It might have been because the season was already over, but I’ve a feeling that I just don’t care that much these days. There were too many players that I wouldn‘t recognise if they passed me in the street with their full kit on and that makes it harder to identify with them.

On the way out.

On the way out.

There was no need to try to beat the traffic as having to queue at the underpass is a distant memory, whilst the lack of congestion on the roads meant that we were back in Norton quicker than I can ever recall managing in the past. I suppose that there are certain advantages to end of season games in the Championship.

 

 

Sunderland Hendon v Sunderland The Alexandra, Monday 21st April 2014, 10.30am

April 24, 2014

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As you might have spotted from the team names, this one was a bit of a change from watching the likes of the Kaizer Chiefs and Mamelodi Sundowns. Jen and I were in the UK for Easter and I took the opportunity to watch a game between a couple of teams from the Wearside Combination League. Really? Yes really.

To be more precise, it was the final of the Alan Hood Memorial Trophy and that was pretty much the reason for my attendance. Alan was my Dad’s cousin and my godfather. He died in a car crash in 1987 and the Wearside Combination League re-named the former Blind Institute Cup in his memory.

Alan actually played in the first football match I ever went to. He was captaining Easington Colliery and his dad, my great-uncle Jim, took me along to watch. I reckon it will probably have been the 72-73 season, maybe 73-74. Anyway, Alan came over to talk to us as the teams were warming up and told me that the Vaseline on his eyebrows was to prevent him getting cut when head-butting the opposition players. I, of course, believed every word.

After he stopped playing he became a ref and went on to make the Football League list.  I remember watching him reffing reserve games at Ayresome Park and running the line in an old First Division game against Derby.

Alan as a boy, Uncle Jim is back right.

Alan as a boy, Uncle Jim is back right.

The venue for the final was the Boldon CA ground and so I took a drive up the A19 with my Dad and my son, Tom. There are two pitches, one of which is used by Northern League Jarrow Roofing and the other by Boldon Colliery Welfare of the Wearside League. This game was on the Boldon Colliery Welfare pitch, but it was still a step up from the places where these teams usually play.

Boldon CA.

Boldon CA.

The sign on the gate stated that it was £2.50 to get in, but it was charity donations into a bucket instead. The trophy was on display as we went in. It’s an impressive looking effort, but so it should be as it’s a full-size replica of the European Cup.

My Dad with the cup.

My Dad with the cup.

The setting didn’t really seem worthy of the trophy. You wouldn‘t expect to win the European Cup on a pitch full of dandelions where the grass was a good inch longer than it should have been. There were about forty people milling around when we arrived with the usual old blokes supplemented by friends and family of the players.

We’d got lucky in a way, with the top two teams in the Wearside Combination having made the final. Sunderland Hendon, who were presumably named to avoid any confusion with the Barnet-based Hendon that play in the Isthmian League, were taking on the equally precisely named Sunderland The Alexandra.

No Champions League theme music on this occasion.

No Champions League theme music on this occasion.

Hendon were kitted out in a very Spanish looking red and white stripes with blue shorts combo with  The Alexandra sporting blue shirts and white shorts. The uneven pitch wasn’t the best surface for passing and so neither side really bothered, preferring just to lump the ball upfield at the earliest opportunity.

There was more squabbling than goalmouth action in the first half, with players turning on their team mates whenever a move broke down, Hendon were marginally the better side though and some dodgy defending from their opponents allowed them to go in at the break a couple of goals up.

A couple of those look familiar.

A couple of those fans look familiar.

By the time the second half kicked off the crowd had grown to around two hundred. An early penalty to Hendon allowed them to increase their lead to three and it looked to be game over. The Alexandra players certainly thought so and started their post-mortem on the pitch rather than wait until they got to the pub.

Surprisingly, they stopped the arguing just long enough to pull a goal back and set up a frantic final twenty minutes. Being frantic generally isn’t enough though and it wasn’t sufficient to compensate for the panic that set in whenever one of them found themselves anywhere near the penalty box.

Championies.

Championies.

Hendon hung on for the win and we watched them lift Alan’s trophy. I doubt any of them knew who he was or why he wore Vaseline on his eyebrows. We did, though.

 

 

Knights v Dolphins, Sunday 6th April 2014, 10am

April 24, 2014

1 - opening shot

Jen and I had a choice as to what to watch on the second day of our weekend in Bloemfontein, but as we had a five hour drive back up to Gauteng that day I didn’t really fancy hanging about for the three o’clock kick-off in the Bloemfontein Celtic game.

The alternative option was going to the cricket, specifically the fourth day of the Knights v Dolphin ‘county championship‘ clash. As well as it being the final day of the game, it was also the final day of the season.

Chevrolet Park is actually only a few hundred yards from the hotel that we were staying in, but I hadn’t realised and we ended up driving around the outskirts of Bloemfontein looking for the golf club that the blue dot on my phone seemed determined to direct us to.

Eventually, by putting the previous stadium name of Outsurance Oval into the satnav we discovered that the location was pretty much where had set off from almost an hour earlier.

Chevrolet Park

Chevrolet Park

Admission was free and we entered the ground a couple of minutes after the start of play only to see the players all walking off the field. The final wicket of the Knights first innings had just been taken, after an impressive stand of one hundred and seventeen and so we had the ten minute between innings break to find ourselves somewhere to sit.

It wasn’t difficult to get seats as there were only four other people watching, all of whom I assumed to be relatives of the players. In the time that we were there I counted a total of eleven different people watching, although there were never more than seven at a time. I know there wasn’t likely to be a result in the match and even if there had been it wouldn’t have counted for much, but come on, eleven people at a free entry first class cricket game? What better way could there be to idle away a decent portion of a Sunday?

That was all of them at that time.

That was all of them at that time.

The seats that we took turned out to be a little too close to a bird’s nest just above us and so the gaps between deliveries were spent watching the parents turning up with grubs in their mouths, anxiously wondering whether they should reveal the location, before invariably deciding not to and then eating the grub themselves.

I've no idea what type of bird it was.

I’ve no idea what type of bird it was.

Jen isn’t overly impressed with cricket and so she cleared off to do a bit of shopping. That reduction in the crowd from six to five was my cue to have a wander around the ground and have each of the other stands to myself.

As I left whichever stand I was in I noticed an open door to a room with tables in it and found myself in the players dining room. I can’t say I’d ever wondered about the lunching arrangements, but now I know how they do it at Chevrolet Stadium.

Plenty of cake, I'd imagine.

Plenty of cake, I’d imagine.

There wasn’t anyone watching from the big stand to the left, but there a few people working underneath it, washing cars and doing a bit of general maintenance. I don’t suppose there will be much going on for a few months once this game had finished.

The view to the left.

The view to the left.

The first breakthrough of the morning for the Knights came as I was making my way across the grassy bank that was parallel with the wicket. It didn’t mean a lot in terms of the game as the Dolphins probably weren’t intending to bat for too long.

A first innings lead of around a hundred and twenty suggested that they would smack the ball around for the morning session or maybe a little longer and then go through the motions of having a bowl with little hope of a result.

The view back towards where we'd been sat.

The view back towards where we’d been sat.

Looking across towards the wicket you can see the Free State Stadium in the background. The realisation that we were within fifty yards or so of Chevrolet Park the previous day when at the rugby game just makes the one hour drive around looking for the ground even more laughable.

There’s another grassy bank on the Free State Stadium side of the pitch that has a few trees dotted around. Not so good if you end up behind one, but ideal if you get there early and prop yourself up against one.

As I walked between the trees I noticed that the leaves had started it fall. Autumn in April. I’m still getting used to living in the southern hemisphere and in my book April is the time for the start of the cricket season, not the end of it.

Free State Stadium in the background.

Free State Stadium in the background.

Did I say that there were eleven spectators? Well, make that eleven and a dog as one fella took his mutt for a walk around the boundary rope. Not only that, he threw a ball for it to chase. Just what you need at a cricket game. That said, the players positioned by the rope seemed to welcome the diversion. Maybe they were hoping Fido would save a four.

One man and his dog.

One man and his dog.

The Dolphins continued to hit out for the rest of the morning session, losing three or four wickets as they scored at more than six an over. I’d been expecting them to take lunch at noon, after two hours play, but they carried on for another ten minutes. Perhaps they were making up time from earlier in the game.

Time for lunch.

Time for lunch.

With a five hour drive ahead of us the end of the morning’s play was our signal to clear off.  For those of you who want to know what happened in the match, Dolphins declared not long into the afternoon session, setting the Knights a target of three hundred and seventeen. It seems that both teams went through the motions for a while before calling it a day and heading off early too.

 

 

Toyota Cheetahs v Chiefs, Saturday 5th April 2014, 3pm

April 23, 2014

1 - opening shot

Bloemfontein is a five hour drive from where Jen and I live in Gauteng and if I thought sensibly about it, it’s probably a bit too far to travel to for just an overnight stay. Thing is though, I’d seen that there was a First Division football game taking place on the Saturday, followed by a Premier league match on the Sunday.

What made it more attractive was that the First Division game was between the bottom two teams, Roses United and Blackburn Rovers, teams that when the inevitable relegation to the Second Division happens may as well have vanished from the face of the Earth.

With that in mind, we set off early for Bloemfontein. It wasn’t a particularly interesting drive, plenty of open spaces with not much going on in them. Jen spotted some giraffe in the distance but I saw nothing more exciting than the odd bit of roadkill.

After five hours of driving I’d had enough and the prospect of continuing on another half an hour to the Kaizer Sebothelo stadium at nearby Botshabelo held little appeal. Or more specifically driving there and then driving another half an hour back into town after the game held no appeal. It was time for Plan B, which was to check straight into our hotel and then walk the few hundred yards to the Free State Stadium for some Super Rugby instead.

Free State Stadium.

Free State Stadium.

The hotel that I’d booked us into advertised itself as being inside a zoo, with a view of elephants through the room windows. We didn’t see any of those, mainly because we had a big tree outside of our window blocking the view, but also because I don’t think there were any elephants.

We had a look through the window at the end of our corridor and were rewarded with some sort of nondescript bok with just the one horn. And I don‘t mean one horn like a unicorn, I mean one horn because the other had fallen off at some point.

The situation was redeemed by fighting squirrels. There were three of them, although I suspect just the one was the troublemaker. The hotel would have been better off advertising them rather than elephants as I was tempted to move to Plan C and just watch the squirrels scrap it out for the rest of the afternoon.

"Get into 'em"

“Get into ’em”

Good as the squirrels were, we set off for the rugby and after a walk through a shopping mall that seemed a lot further than the hotel had claimed, we arrived at the Free State Stadium. I asked at the ticket office for tickets in a drinking stand with shade. “No problem“ she said and promptly sold us two sixty rand seats in the sun.

Even with tickets, it wasn’t easy to get in and we were turned back at the first gate we tried on account of my camera. Apparently it was too big. I wouldn’t care, but it’s not some big professional effort. It’s not even a proper DSLR, it’s just a poxy bridge camera.

We politely accepted the decision and made our way along to the next gate where we avoided the bag search. There’s always a way around these little hurdles.

After discovering our shaded seats were in the sun we found an alternative spot in the shade and waited for the teams to emerge through a guard of honour provided by a dozen bikers. I bet the groundsman loved that. Maybe they could have farmers with their ploughs next week.

Ideal for the playing surface.

Ideal for the playing surface.

Anyway, with the game underway and a beer in my hand everything eventually felt right with the world. For those interested in the stadiums, this one was built in 1995 for the Rugby World Cup. It also staged half a dozen games at the 2010 football World Cup, including the game where Germany beat England 4-1. We were sat at the end where Lampard’s disallowed ‘goal‘ happened.

We were supposed to be sat in the stand to the left.

We were supposed to be sat in the stand to the left.

We’d seen the Chiefs the week before in Pretoria and they’d looked a decent side on that occasion. They struggled in the first half though  as the Cheetahs, who had never beaten the Chiefs, seemed to be able to score at will.

The game looked over at half-time with the home side 34-10 ahead.

A sole first-half try for the Chiefs.

A sole first-half try for the Chiefs.

It was a different story after the break as the visitors gradually clawed their way back into the game. At one stage the Chiefs had reduced the deficit to a single point before a couple of Cheetahs penalties gave the home side a seven point advantage.

The Cheetahs were still seven points up with just thirty seconds to go on their own line out. Instead of killing the ball and then booting it out once the hooter went, they somehow contrived to lose possession to the Chiefs who kept the ball alive for another three minutes before scoring under the posts.

The view towards the other end.

The view towards the other end.

The easy conversion gave the Chiefs their second last-ditch draw in a week and resulted in a stunned silence as the crowd left the stadium. We made our way back to the hotel where there were still no elephants and the squirrels seemed to have made up with each other.

 

Mamelodi Sundowns v Amatuks, Sunday 30th March 2014, 3.30pm

April 21, 2014

1 - opening shot

Day two of the Pretoria weekend meant it was the Premier League game between Mamelodi Sundowns and Amatuks. We had a five and a half hour gap between being booted out of our hotel room and the mid-afternoon kick-off so we had a walk along to the Union Building to idle away some of the morning.

Even if you aren’t too familiar with Pretoria landmarks, you still might know the Union Building as it’s the place where Nelson Mandela lay in state last year. There’s not much more going for it though as you can’t go inside. We slogged up the hill, ran the gauntlet of tat sellers at the top and then made our way back down through the gardens. It killed an hour or so but I wouldn’t recommend it. Even the busload of Chinese tourists didn’t seem inclined to hang around.

It's nothing special.

It’s nothing special.

Fortunately we noticed the nearby Sheraton Hotel and were able to while away the remaining time reading their newspapers before going for the buffet lunch. It’s a lot more enjoyable than pressing your nose up against the glass doors of the Union Building.

The walk in to the stadium was a lot quieter than it had been the previous day and led me to believe that the Sundowns wouldn’t be attracting much of a crowd. The merchandising was more low–key too with most of the sellers setting out their wares on the ground rather than stalls.

It was better tat than at the Union Building.

It was better than the tat at the Union Building.

We made our way around to the ticket office where the bloke behind the counter kept us and the people behind us waiting as he criticised the appointment of David Moyes at Man United. I find it hard to have any sympathy for Man United fans. They’ve had it good for a long time and are long overdue a relatively fallow spell. Two forty rand tickets and a lecture later we headed for the East Stand, pausing to let the one of the branches of the Mamelodi Supporters Club march past.

They were happy to go the long way around.

They were happy to go the long way around.

The pitch looked in reasonable condition considering that there had been a game of rugby played on it just the day before and the ground staff had made a decent effort at removing or disguising the various sponsor logos that had been painted onto the grass.

Mamelodi, who were dressed up as Brazil, started the better of the two teams but looked vulnerable to being caught on the counter-attack.

View from the East Stand.

View from the East Stand.

I’d estimate the crowd at about a couple of thousand, most of them being Sundowns supporters in the West Stand. There were a hundred or so of the kids who had marched past us before the game behind the goal to our right and maybe a dozen Amatuks fans at the front of the East. The away fans were supplemented by a few Kaizer Chiefs fans who had turned up to cheer on the opposition to their rivals.

Hat Of The Day.

Hat Of The Day.

As the first half drew to a close both teams had their chances. It was the Sundowns that broke the deadlock though, a minute before half-time when Laffor headed home unchallenged from five yards out.

Amatuk equalised just after the hour sparking wild celebrations from the alliance of their own and the Kaizer Chiefs fans.

Amtuks fans celebrate Nyondo’s goal.

Amtuks fans celebrate Nyondo’s goal.

The visiting supporters joy was short-lived as within a couple of minutes Mamelodi had regained the lead with the third headed goal of the game, this time a glancing effort from Mokoena.

That was it as far as the scoring went, although we were treated to a few wild tackles as the home side hung on for the victory.

This one caused a bit of an uproar.

This one caused a bit of an uproar.

As we left the ground alongside the Chiefs fans, we had to run the gauntlet for the second time that day, this time it was the Sundown’s under tens fan club making their presence felt and delighting in their victory. Whilst I’d expect the Chiefs to finish on top come the end of the season it was good to see the kids making the most of the win.

 

 

Bulls v Chiefs, Saturday 29th March 2014, 3pm

April 14, 2014

1 - opening shot

Despite the rugby season being well underway these days, I’ve been trying to prioritise football and cricket. Mainly because I prefer them, but also because I can save the rugby games for the winter when the other two sports are taking a break.

At the weekend though, I’d spotted that the Loftus Versfeld stadium in Pretoria was hosting games on consecutive days, with a Super Rugby match on Saturday afternoon and then a Premier League football game on the Sunday. Pretoria is only about three quarters of an hour drive from where Jen and I live, but I booked us into a hotel close to the ground so that I could have a few scoops during the rugby.

See, two games.

See, two games.

It was an easy enough walk to the stadium from the hotel and despite all the scare stories that I’ve heard about wandering around in Pretoria it seemed safe enough. A few of the locals were renting out their drives for parking, others, perhaps not so local, were charging for guiding cars onto any available bit of land and then ‘looking after them’.

There were plenty of stalls selling food,mainly steak and burgers, whilst the main access road to the stadium had a variety of stands selling Bulls merchandise. Hats with cow horns on seemed a popular item.

Plenty of flags and shirts too.

Plenty of flags and shirts too.

I’d heard from a fella at work that there were restrictions on drinking in your seat at the rugby, but I remembered that when I was at the Ellis Park game last year that there were people in a posh section in front of us who seemed to be consuming an unlimited supply of beer throughout the game. With that in mind I booked seats in the most expensive part of the ground, paying 450 rand a pop compared to the 70 to 150 rand everywhere else.

We got into the stadium an hour or so before kick-off and it turned out our seats weren’t so special after all, they were close to the tunnel but weren’t sectioned off or anything. Two rows back or a few seats along we could have had a similar view for a third of the price.

The view from the not so cheap seats.

The view from the not so cheap seats.

At that point we headed off to the bar only to be told that not only could we not drink in our seats, we couldn’t drink anywhere in the stadium. How could that be right?. It’s rugby, you are meant to watch it with a pint in your hand. And so to recap. I’d booked a hotel room for the night to avoid having to drive and then paid three times over the odds for my seat only to be sat drinking Coke. Wonderful.

Loftus Versfeld is quite an old stadium, dating back about a hundred years, but with plenty of modifications over that time, notably a few dozen executive boxes, which you won’t be surprised to hear were packed with people partying. Gits.

You can see some of those boxes in the background.

You can see some of those boxes in the background.

The first half was pretty tight with the Chiefs going in at the break just a single point ahead. Star of the show was Bulls lock Victor Matfield who, after two years in retirement, has taken up playing again. It will be interesting to see if he regains his Springbok spot.

In the second half the Bulls put a bit of pressure on the visitors and with five minutes left were a comfortable twelve points ahead. It wasn’t enough though and a couple of tries, the last of which was converted from the touchline with the final kick of the game, enabled the Chiefs to snatch an unexpected draw.

Chiefs on the attack.

Chiefs on the attack.

There was better news on the beer front as when we left the ground we discovered a field with a bar in it. I made up for the lack of drink inside the stadium by having a few cans as we listened to some 70’s tribute band blasting out Lynyrd Skynyrd and Creedence Clearwater Revival hits.

If they’d played anything by Mott The Hoople it would have pipped that ELO tribute act from a couple of months ago to gig of the year so far. They didn’t and so found themselves in second and last place.

Finally, a beer.

Finally, a beer.

So, lessons learned. Turn up early next time, drink outside and then buy a seventy rand ticket for the East Stand, which is the one closest to the bar in the field.

 

 

SWD Eagles v Regent Boland Cavaliers, Saturday 22nd March 2014, 3pm

April 1, 2014

swellendam mountains

I got a bit lucky with this game as Jen and I had planned a trip to Cape Town that initially didn‘t coincide with any sporting fixtures. However, a late switch of venue for a Vodacom Cup rugby game from George to Swellendam coincided very nicely with our arrival in town and meant that I could get my fix of live action.

We’d set off three days earlier, catching the overnight train from Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth. It was a pleasant enough journey, mainly due to us being in the posh part of the train. We spent twenty-odd hours meandering towards the coast with plenty to eat and drink and with very few other passengers around to spoil things.

It’s getting on for thirty years since my inter-railing days and nights spent on a train seem much quieter these days. There’s far less vomiting out of the windows for a start.

That station had seen better days.

That station had seen better days.

The view from the lounge carriage varied considerably. At times we’d pass shanty towns, or as they tend to be known ‘informal settlements‘. The main source of fun for the small kids at those places seemed to be hurling rocks at the train.

Further on in the journey we spooked a few ostriches, some of which were bright enough to know that they wanted to run, but not that they wanted to run away from the train rather than sprinting alongside it. If they had bigger brains then they’d probably have thrown rocks too.

We were in the purple bit.

We were in the purple bit.

We picked up a car at Port Elizabeth and just kept the sea on our left until we got to Plettenburg Bay. There’s a National Park there, Robberg, and so the next day we were able to go for a hike. The six mile trail was described in some of the reviews as strenuous and that was a fair summary, with the path diverting up and down from the beach to the cliff tops far more than I’d hoped.

Nice scenery though.

Nice scenery though.

It took us four hours to complete the circular route, although that was with plenty of pauses to look at the seals, dassies and lizards together with plenty of other pauses for me to get my breath back after each scramble,

The next day we headed for Oudtshoorn. I’m not really sure why most people would go there, but we went because it has a few ostrich farms nearby. Or more specifically, ostrich farms that let you ride the ostriches.

Sadly, I was too heavy, although it did occur to me that the opportunity to ride an ostrich could provide the best incentive ever to drop two or three stones. I did think about lying about my weight, but thought better of it after having cast my mind back to a swimming with dolphins experience in Florida a few years ago where I came close to drowning Flipper.

Jen was light enough for ostrich riding though and was soon hanging on for dear life as James ran around the pen as if someone had told him a train was coming. James? Yes, James. I’ve no idea what an appropriate name for an ostrich is, but surely it can’t be James.

"Home, James"

“Home, James”

Saturday meant that it was time for the rugby game. Swellendam is one of those picturesque Western Cape towns with a few buildings dating from the nineteenth century. The tourist leaflets describe it as being the third oldest town in South Africa, although I suspect that they were referring only to towns established after the Europeans arrived. It’s hard to believe that there weren’t any towns in South Africa before then.

The hotel that we were booked into turned out to be less than ten minutes walk from the ground and so I had a wander along shortly before kick-off. If anyone was taking money on the gate they must have missed me sauntering in.

I was too late for a seat in the small main stand and so I stood for a while in the shade next to the clubhouse before making my way around to some seating on the opposite side of the pitch.

The main stand.

The main stand.

The rest of the ground was fairly full, as much with cars as anything. The perimeter fencing was lined with people partying and whilst there wasn‘t any alcohol on sale there didn‘t appear to be any restrictions on bringing full cooler boxes to the game.

Park where you like.

Park where you like.

One thing that did surprise me was the racial make-up of the crowd. Rugby is still seen as a predominantly ‘white‘ sport over here with football being ‘black‘ and cricket ‘mixed‘. At Swellendam though, I’d say that the crowd was 95% black. Maybe there isn’t a local football or cricket team to divide loyalties.

View from near the main stand.

View from near the main stand.

I’ve been to quite a few scenic grounds in the past few years, there are plenty in Korea and Iceland that come to mind, but Swellendam Rugby Club can’t be far behind many of them. I’ve no idea which mountains provide the backdrop to the pitch but they were well worth giving up a spot in the shade to have them in view.

Big hills.

Big hills.

As for the game? Well, it’s a while since I’ve seen lower level rugby and whilst I wouldn’t wish any harm to anyone it was refreshing to see the players letting loose with the odd haymaker now and again. The absence of cameras meant that disputes could be settled with a punch-up followed by a wag of a finger from the ref. I like it that way.

The standard was reasonable, although the ball was knocked-on a little more than I’m used to seeing on the telly. As for stand-out players, the home side had a prop who looked about five foot six tall and twenty stone. He was surprisingly mobile, although didn‘t last too long into the second half.

That's him, wearing number 25.

That’s him, wearing number 25.

Boland had the best of a tight first half and led narrowly at the break. It all went a bit sour for them after that though as the home side scored half a dozen tries to end up convincing winners. It wasn’t quite as entertaining as the ostrich riding, but it ran it close.

 

Boxing at Emperors Palace, Johannesburg, Saturday 1st March 2014

March 5, 2014

0 - joey vegas flag

We should have been at this bill a fortnight ago, but it had been postponed and so we ended up staying the weekend in a ‘resort hotel‘ with nothing more to see an ELO tribute act. The upside of the delay though was that the re-scheduled show was moved to a smaller nine hundred capacity venue and with the tickets having to be re-sold, we managed to get seats in Row A of Block A.

From what I can see, there are a couple of dozen or so boxing promotions a year in South Africa, although cage fighting seems to be more popular. Shame really, as I’m a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to twatting someone in the chops.

With the boxing not starting until the evening, we were free to go for a hike earlier in the day and so we headed to Groenkloof, a nature reserve in Johannesburg. We had been there last year and had a good time despite losing the trail on occasions and having to make our way through the bush.

On this visit we stuck to the path but despite clocking up close to up twelve miles we still didn’t manage to spot the giraffes. How does something the size of a giraffe keep itself hidden? We did have a few close encounters with zebras though and also stumbled across a few different types of antelope.

I think our presence prevented some zebra porn.

I think our presence prevented some zebra porn.

There were six bouts on the card at the Marcellus Theatre, with the first one scheduled to start at 7.30pm. Our Row A seats were pretty good, with only one row of ‘celeb‘ seats between us and the ringside commentators and officials. The venue was so small though that you’d still have had a decent view from the very back rows.

The opening pairing was a featherweight contest between two fellas who were both having their third fight. One of them, Ricardo Hiraman, had won on both of his previous outings whilst the other, Phumudzo Monyai, stepped into the ring with a record of one win and one loss.

A few minutes later and Mr. Monyai was coming to terms with his second career defeat, or at least he would have been if he hadn’t been spark out on the canvas. He spent longer recovering than he had boxing.

When they were both still uptight.

When they were both still uptight.

Next up were a couple of junior flyweights. It was all going well for the house fighter who looked to be well ahead after three rounds only to get knocked over in the fourth. It went to the scorecards after six with Sibusiso Twani’s better later work getting him the nod by a point over Thabang Ramagole on all three judge‘s cards.

The lad with the yellow shorts won.

The lad with the yellow shorts won.

Third fight of the night was at light-welterweight. There’d been a late withdrawal, which was a shame as the bloke who didn’t show had been described in one newspaper as being aged forty-nine. Maybe he’d been gardening and stiffened up.  I’ve no idea how old his replacement, Jeff Otimbio, was but he was a good eight hundred places in the world rankings below the fella he was fighting, Adam De Moor.

A quick look at De Moor’s record suggests that he is usually very carefully matched, with the majority of his opponents having far more defeats than wins, at least in their recent fights if not in their career overall. The difference in class told and Otimbio was put down twice in an easy points win for De Moor.

Another easy win for Adam De Moor.

Another easy win for Adam De Moor.

Next up was the first of the evening’s title fights. Sort of. It was a light-heavyweight bout for the vacant WBC Silver International belt. The what? I had a check online and the International title is for boxers ranked between 10 and 30 by the WBC. As the two contenders were ranked 52 and 82 respectively by Boxrec, it seemed that the WBC weren’t too fussy as to who gets a place in their top thirty.

And the Silver part of the title? That’s because it’s an interim title apparently, although one that can be defended and that doesn’t entitle the holder to be upgraded to proper International Champion. It was just as well really as the Gold International Championship was being contested on the same bill later that evening.

So, it’s as contrived a title as anything the WBC has ever come up with, perhaps with the exception of their ‘Diamond belt’ which, for an appropriate sanctioning fee, can be contested whenever a couple of ‘big name’ boxers temporarily without titles feel the need for one of them to take a prize home at the end of the fight.

Johnny Muller makes his entrance.

Johnny Muller makes his entrance.

Local boy Johnny Muller had been matched against Namibian Wilberforce Shihepo for the not so prestigious title. Mr Shihepo was the higher ranked of the pair at 52 in the world and, somewhat less gloriously, second rated of the only two light-heavyweights in his own country. I imagine that with just the two boxers competing in the light-heavyweight division then the domestic title fights in Namibia will get a bit stale after a while.

The main news story in the week leading up to the fight had been speculation as to whether or not the Namibian would make the weight. Apparently with six days to go he had still been thirteen pounds over the twelve and a half stone limit. That takes some doing when you consider that his last fight was at super-middleweight.

Muller v Shihepo

Muller v Shihepo

Johnny Muller has a reputation as a bit of a brawler. He has rarely fought outside of Emperors Palace and his style had attracted in a fair few fans. Shihepo wasn’t going to be intimidated though and he gave as good as he got with both boxers wrestling each other to the floor at times whilst neither was too careful where he put his head.

The WBC announce the scores after four and eight rounds, with Shihepo holding the early advantage before Muller edged ahead at the two-thirds stage. In the end Muller took a split decision. I thought Shihepo was marginally the better fighter but I couldn’t have disputed the decision whichever way it had gone.

Still Muller and Shihepo

Still Muller and Shihepo

Top of the bill was a WBA/IBO minimum weight fight between champion Hekkie Budler of South Africa and the Columbian challenger Karluis Diaz. Minimum weight is seven stone. Seven stone! It was lucky that Budler had plenty of tattoos or it would have looked like a couple of nine year olds knocking hell out of each other for the amusement of the watching grown-ups.

We had Budler’s future Mother-in-Law sat behind us proudly mentioning the family connection at every opportunity and screaming advice to her daughter’s fiancée. She was fairly new to boxing and her instructions to “Give him an upperhand” probably didn’t help the fella much.

I'm heavier than the pair of them put together. Lots heavier actually.

I’m heavier than the pair of them put together. Lots heavier actually.

I’d noticed that one of the judges was Dave Parris. Oddly, this was the only fight that he was officiating in, which seemed a bit of a waste of such an experienced judge. As it turned out he’d flown in from the UK for nothing as Hekkie Budler despatched his opponent in the opening round before Mr. Parris had needed to hand in any score whatsoever.

The speedy conclusion meant that Hekkie’s Mother-in-law-to-be could clear off to check out hats and frocks for the big day, leaving us to watch the final bout in peace.

I doubt he'll have that haircut at the wedding.

I doubt he’ll have that haircut at the wedding.

The last fight of the night featured Joey Vegas, a Ugandan currently living in Tottenham, against unbeaten local Ryno Liebenberg for the WBC Gold International Light-Heavyweight belt. Vegas (I don’t think that it was his real name) had a couple of dozen supporters in the crowd, waving what I presumed was the Ugandan flag rather than one representing Tottenham.

Or is that a cockerel on it? Maybe it is Tottenham.

Or is that a cockerel on it? Maybe it is Tottenham.

As you might have expected, Ryno Liebenburg had a lot more supporters, with many of them wearing official tee-shirts. They were quickly rewarded with another win for the South African as he put Vegas on the canvas twice before stopping him in the opening round.

Vegas looking good at this stage.

Vegas looking good at this stage.

I’d like to think that Joey Vegas and Dave Parris got to sit next to each other on the flight back to London so that they could marvel at travelling all of that distance for less than three minutes work each.

Overall, it was a decent bill with maybe just the one fight that wasn’t well-matched. I was particularly impressed by the way in which the timings of the bouts weren’t dictated by broadcasting requirements. As soon as one fight finished the next pair of boxers were lining up ready to go. It doesn’t always work like that in the UK where I’ve often had to wait an hour or so between fights just to suit the telly timings. So, all in all, a good evening.