Tag: Spain

Spain’s gift to the world is fútbol romantico.

We got that tonight, as Spain got back on track with a 2-0 win over Honduras at Ellis Park. 54,000 came to enjoy Xavi’s midfield orchestration, David Villa’s glossy finishing, and the choral play of the Spanish side. It could have been 4- or 5- nil but Torres missed easy chances and Villa blew a penalty (and a chance for a hat trick).

But the story for us was getting to the game. I had an interview scheduled for 3p.m. at Radio 702 in Sandton. An enjoyable hour in the studio with the host, Jenny Crwys-Williams, who had Wimbledon and Portugal tearing North Korea to shreds on separate screens as we talked about my new books, Laduma! (2010 edition) and African Soccerscapes. (Click here to listen to the interview.)

At 4pm Ignazio and I went to the Sandton City mall to buy our park-and-ride tickets for tonight and later in the week. The mall is a massive, glitzy babylon of shopping. Alienating in the extreme, it could be anywhere in the USA or Western Europe. But it is the new economic center of Johannesburg.

Clock was ticking. Finally at 5pm we have our park-and-ride tickets and head out into crazy rush hour traffic. The Spain team is getting on the bus at the hotel across the street! Nice. The traffic is thick with mini-buses taking the working class back to the townships, as well as SUVs and an assortment of Benzes and Beemers heading to Gauteng’s gated communities. We are les than 5km from our flat and 45 minutes later we pick up the rest of the crew. Destination: the seat of South Africa’s Supreme Court: Constitution Hill—an ex-prison where Gandhi, Mandela and thousands of less famous freedom fighters and common criminals were once held.

We miss the turn for Con Hill. Agh! Suddenly, we are in a starkly different Johannesburg from where we were an hour earlier. Gone are the malls, the high rises, luxury apartments, and privatized heavily policed spaces. Hillbrow and Park Station are probably one of the most densely populated urban areas in Africa and perhaps the world. The rules of the road are suspended here. Igna is negotiating pedestrians everywhere while I try to read a map in the dark. Even the cops don’t know how to get out of here! But a good Samaritan bus driver at the wheel of a World Cup park-and-ride bus gives us directions. Ayoba! 10 minutes later we make our final approach to Con Hill, at the top of the ridge above Hillbrow. We know we’re close because the first Joburg police officer since Sandton is directing traffic. After almost burning out the clutch waiting in line to enter the multilevel parkade, we arrive. Kick off is more than hour away. We can relax.

Once on the bus, the kids joke about how many goals Spain will score on Honduras. I film the ride through Hillbrow and ‘interview’ Sophie who tells me it’s going to be 2-0 for Spain. Our child has a gift (and a smack after Torres). The crowd on the bus seems mostly South African, but we hear and talk with Americans, Costaricans (supporting Honduras) and Mexicans too. The bus drops us off in gritty New Doornfontein, where a long alley leads to Ellis Park—a beautiful stadium for football, not a bad seat in the house. As we approach the venue, Ignazio’s son Marco blares out his favourite South African phrase: ‘Ke nako!’