The Love of the Game

I didn't know I cared so much. About the soccer, I mean. Yesterday I felt completely shattered after the Germans demolished Argentina. I think I felt it more intensely as I watched my son become smaller and smaller as he sank into his seat with every ball that thundered into the goals. I was also still trying to recover from Ghana's loss the night before - it really was a loss for the whole continent. 

I'm not sure how I feel about Uruguay at the moment - my brain tells me they are also the underdogs and deserve to win, but I want to punish them for kicking "us" out. I started out the World Cup with this hierarchy of support - first and foremost, Bafana Bafana. All of us knew that we stood slim chance of making it through the first rounds - but sentiment carried us along and filled the nation with pride. After SA, I supported any African team to be playing, then a South American team (the south-south connection) and then Spain.

On Friday we climbed onto a little 12-seater plane with two Netherlands supporters to fly down to Port Elizabeth to watch Netherlands against Brazil. It hadn't been in the plan, but when my husband heard who was playing, he quickly made a plan. I sat in a sea of orange, green and gold; grown-up men dressed as giant orange balls walked by, followed by an orange wig wearing an orange bathrobe. Behind me drums beat out the rhythm of the samba. After a hesitant start, the Netherlands showed the samba kings a few steps of their own. The crowd was stunned and sms'es flowed between us and friends in all parts of the world, as they tried to come to terms with the loss...another major upset for this World Cup which will surely be known for upsets.

I didn't have much emotion invested in the game in the afternoon, but Ghana vs Uruguay was a different story. Last night I felt completely spent and had nothing to give Spain or Paraguay. I thought I would have an early night but was drawn to the televison like a moth to a flame. I couldn't help thinking that it didn't matter who won because the Germans would be waiting like a well-oiled machine to take them out 4-something!

This morning the sun is shining and it is a beautiful sunny winter's day in Cape Town. Three short weeks ago, 32 teams converged on our country to do "battle", now there are four left. There have been highs and lows, tears and laughter, but the greatest gift has to be the national pride and the knowledge that we could pull it off. I will gather myself and enjoy the soccer that is still to be played for the love of the game itself. There's always 2014!