Trail of the Lion King

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.