Loading ...June 11 seems like an age ago doesn’t it? It was only yesterday that us South Africans lost our collective shit in celebrating Siphiwe Tshabalala’s goal against Mexico in the opening match of the 2010 World Cup at Soccer City Johannesburg. Since then, 61 further matches have been played across the country featuring great goals, underperforming superstars, fearless minnows, surprising results and an exhibition of the gees never seen before on such a large scale.
Today is also, technically speaking, the final football Friday. Football Friday, for those of you that didn’t get the memo, is when we all put on our replica jerseys in support of Bafana Bafana or another team you might happen to support. I don’t like the clothes I wear being dictated, so that is one aspect of this tournament I won’t miss.
And what of the vuvuzela? The drone of the Plastic African Hornbill has pierced the silence everywhere for nearly a month, and now with the finishing line in sight, the time has come to put down your arms (and Strepsils), breathe, and hear the trees once Sunday passes. My flat in Cape Town has been graced by the ‘baaaaaaaarp’ of the vuvuzela as early as 6:30 in the morning, and while the foreign media, in their ignorance, thought it the work of an evil sangoma who craved nothing more then to mute all the non-African teams, not quite.
Apart from the otolaryngologists who might receive a financial windfall from the vuvuzela, they have proven essential in defining this World Cup as South Africa’s (all that talk of it being an African World Cup was just a load of PR manure). Still, as mentioned above, it will be nice to hear the silence.
Have people been killed by raging packs of muggers? Have tourists been stabbed like a sushi chef dicing his latest load of fresh fish? Did the tournament descend into utter chaos? No, no, and no. All the fear mongering was the result of a group of foreign media outlets who didn’t know shit, still don’t know squat and happily have been made to eat their own words as South Africa has risen to the occasion and hosted one lekker World Cup. Do I smell sour grapes?
So … what of the final? There were probably many who doubted the knowledge contained on these hallowed digital pages when a couple of weeks ago the words ‘Holland to surprise’ entered their cerebral cortex. Now, all that stands between the Dutch and one heck of a surprising World Cup victory is perhaps the most skilled football team on the planet. Easy game then!
In fairness to Spain, they have not altered their philosophy, very much like Germany, Holland and Uruguay, the other semifinalists. I won’t go into why these teams were the ones to reach the semis, but a good explanation can be found here, courtesy of the BBC’s Phil Minshull.
The key players are easy to finger: David Villa, Arjen Robben, Andries Iniesta, Wesley Sneijder, Xavi Hernandez, Robin van Persie, Sergio Busquets and Mark van Bommel.
Spain’s possession football, where they wait, probe and pass for an opening, will be challenged by the Dutch’s tigerish defensive midfield and more direct means of play. It is a match of contrasting styles, footballing philosophies and passions, where every thing is at stake. This is what a World Cup final is all about. I can hardly wait!
Prediction: Spain start as favourites, but the scoreline will be: Netherlands 2–1 Spain.
