The Horn

Sorry I haven’t blogged for a while but I’ve been watching the football and waiting for something to happen. Let’s be honest, it’s been a bit dull. It’s livened up in the last few days but still. I know everyone has to feel their way into the tournament but come on lads. We’ve been waiting weeks for this festival of football and I just had my first conversation with someone where we agreed that we’re quite looking forward to the new season. (I discount the Germans from this last statement. They arrived fully prepared. Almost like they’d been planning the whole thing. The only word that seems to apply is efficient).

Yes the crowds have been colourful. Yes the North Koreans were better than we’d thought they’d be and it was great to see their three hundred fans “spontaneously“ cheer and clap when they scored. And yes the African teams jerseys are skintight and this has no doubt enhanced the enjoyment of some fans. But, aside from this country where people have been incessantly debating the English goalkeeping howler, most people have been talking about the ball and the vuvuzela.

The ball is possibly the most ridiculous mistake ever made by FIFA, an organisation that has a history of ridiculous mistakes. If there’s one thing that a football tournament requires, it’s a good football. It’s no use telling us it’s the roundest ball ever, the players hate it and let’s face it, they’re the ones who need it to work. Of course Sepp Blatter cannot under any circumstances admit that he may have screwed up but seeing as we’re fifteen games in (as I write) and not one free kick from outside the penalty area has got within ten yards of the goal, the evidence suggests otherwise. And if FIFA need help, I’ve got four perfectly good balls in my garden. If they’re needed, they can be flown out at a moments notice.

As for the vuvuzela, I’m not a fan. According to my children, when I complain about the infernal racket and hark after a more simple time of football chants, I sound like a very old man. But I miss the ebb and flow of crowd noise and the din made by the vuvuzela has slightly spoiled my enjoyment of the tournament. Of course I’m still going to watch it because it’s football and the alternative is tennis or, God help me, Golf. But when I’m at home and I turn off the TV at the end of the game, the overwhelming emotion is one of relief that the noise has gone. And I can honestly say that at the precise moment when there’s no more football, the one thing I’ve never felt is relief.

This is a slightly difficult subject because accusations of racism are never far from the surface when someone from a white European culture criticizes an African custom. And that can be doubled when it involves South Africa. The vuvuzela has apparently been around in South Africa for about one hundred years so it could be considered culturally insensitive to turn up at an event that they’re hosting and in so many words tell them to turn down that noise because we can’t enjoy the football.

But we can’t. And nor can the players. There may well be great games and great moments but I haven’t seen many as yet and I’m concerned that things aren’t going to get better. And it would be a shame to work so hard to get the world cup to Africa only to have it spoiled by a rubbish ball and a horn.