And the Winners are......

And so it came to pass, that two thousand and ten years after the death of the one called The Christ, a great football festival was held on the African continent. Such was the excitement, the fun, the hype, the euphoria- that it took a great many wise women (and a few slightly wise men), to fully document what had happened. However, womankind’s vocabulary was not enough to describe this historic event. Unfortunately many of the wise women suffered severe post festival depression that they were unable to put pen to paper. Some gave up writing altogether. Others just took to their duvets and never got up. Others were found wandering the streets calling, “I felt it! It was here! Where did it go?” A few others simply lost their powers of speech. Hence the story will take a long time to reconstruct.
That will be the story in one history book, fifty years from now. It will be an accurate description of some of us. It has been three weeks since the Cup went to Spain, and I have not had an ounce of energy to even write a post script of the Football World Cup 2010. I woke up on the 12th of July all excited and ready to face the day. Then it struck me around noon, that there was no reason I had actually got out of bed! Well, employment doesn’t really count in times like these. By 4 pm the depression was setting in. 8.30pm came. I sat comfortably in front of my tv. Nothing. I don’t even remember what was on whichever channel I landed on. Eventually I skipped through a news channel, following coverage of the Cup’s arrival in Spain. For three days, I channel hopped just to see the cup again and again, and the Spanish fans and their team. I watched reruns. Then it hit me finally. It was really all over. No more jaunts to Melrose Arch big screen. I tried to reconnect with my old favourite soapies. They felt so…..mundane. Desperate Housewives appear even more desperate. Scandal doesn’t feel so scandalous at all. As for Generations…the sooner that Generation leaves our screens the better. Don’t get me started on Ugly Betty, those teeth versus Ayew? Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.


I am now in recovery. A trip to 30 degree temperature Vienna helped. Down here in Jozi the sun is shining again. Spring is in the air. I have discovered the joys of walking to and from my office ( I can’t explain to myself why I never did this for the last four years?), with wonderful reggae blasting in my ears. Things are looking up a bit. I have found my voice to finally do that post mortem of the coppa, and of course the prize giving. What is a competition without prize winners?
Let's get on with it then.

The ones I won’t miss

The English. What is there to say? I hear there is now a new phrase, “To Rooney”. This means failure to launch/perform. That is that on that lot.
The only thing remarkable about the Greeks, the Swiss, and the Italians is that ….there was nothing remarkable about them. I didn’t invent that, I got it from a description of Jozef Stalin by one of my favourite History authors. I don’t remember the name of one single Greek player. A Swiss one?
I insist that Algeria must decide to which continent it belongs. Till the day they stand on top of Mt. Kilimanjaro and say “We are Africans”, I refuse to even consider them as such. They simply came and went. No comment.

I still don’t get Ronaldo. What the allure is. I didn’t see it. So I remain as underwhelmed as I always was by him and of course Portugal. Ditto Messi. I don’t think I remember him actually kicking the ball.

Drogba, oh, Drogba. Please do something about that hair. I just couldn’t get past it to watch the football skills. Ditto Cisse and Song. Please explain the blonde hair and beards to me? You all were the most unstylish, goodbye!

So much potential, just no delivery

I loved the Danes. I have always had a soft spot for the blue eyed blondes. All the Asian teams were just fantastic. Plucky. Spirited. What is another word to describe their determination against all odds? They were not smug (like the Brazilians who thought this was a walk in the park).

Slovenia and New Zealand had my sympathy vote. But no fire there.

Gone too soon…..

The Mexican fans were the highlight of the World Cup for me. I just couldn’t get enough of those sombreros and the fans’ fun loving spirit. Melrose Arch and its environs will never be the same without the red and green ponchos. We discovered the delightful young Dos Santos. To digress, I do think there is a secret to men who hold their hair with white Alice bands. Dos Santos and Forlan. Those bands worked like magic. All men please take note. Buy one if you can. Dos Santos gets the most promising-rising good-looker to watch award.

Ah the French. All that media hype aside, I felt robbed of those delectable French team boys, (they really are all Africans from our hood aren’t they)? I wanted to see Evra, Anelka, even Ribery. Now Thierry is off to America. America? To play a sport that one American told us is so low on their list of priorities it comes just below hide and seek? Eish!

My local hosts will lynch me for this, but the only one I will miss from Bafana is Khune. ‘nuff said.
They may not have been Indomitable after all, but Cameron still gets the award for sexiest uniform of the tournament. It’s just that colour they need to do something about, but style, sexiness, yes, those boys know how to dress to impress on the pitch.

“Naija” also Rooneyed too soon. No comment there.

My other discovery was Honduras. I will keep saying this – why didn’t someone tell me they had so many gorgeous black men in Honduras? Where have they been all along? You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw the whole team of real darkies! I shall watch them from now on.


The also rans

The cup winners themselves, yes but did they have to score only One Goal? 1 Goal was the name of a campaign it wasn’t a suggestion to score only one goal boys. It was hard to root for grown men in orange. Lord knows I tried dear Dutchmen but it was just too hard.
Beautiful footie dear Germany but do you all have to look so dour? Loosen up! Look like you are having fun. It helps. Learn from Chile.
USA – what did they play again? That beauty pageant sash themed uniform put me off on day one, there was no point watching them from then on.
Australia – stick to rugby. It is better for you and all of mankind, and womankind too. Football is just not for you.
Brazil, drop the smugness, it got you eliminated in such unstylish fashion.
Argentina, the touchy feely thing doesn’t quite work. Drop it, and the Godfather with the two watches.
Chile, better luck next time. Serbia, you will remember that win over Germany forever. Savour it.

And now the Winners…..
1. Most beautiful player- Ayew
2. Good looking and lots of potential – the Boateng brothers and Dos Santos (Mexico)
3. The player with “the most”…Alice band factored in – Forlan
4. The team with the most (sorry Africans you can nail me to the nearest lamp post), Uruguay. An entire good looking team. We will excuse the drab uniform.
5. Sexiest uniform – Cameroon
6. Sexiest coach – no prize awarded. The field was just so dire wasn't it? Where is Jose Mourinho when you need him?
7. Pluckiest team – Japan
8. The happiest, most colourful fans – Mexico
9. If only self belief and hope won World cups award – South Africa
10. The team forever in my heart and dreams….Ghana!

Till 2014 then. I don't know about you all but my bag is packed already.