World Cup Madness

Madness takes on a lot of forms, and especially in the last 100 years seems to have totally changed its meaning. ‘Mad’ used to mean insane. Then mad, like wicked, became an adjective meaning ‘very’ or ‘extremely’. Madness now is a marketing slogan, to describe anything from the local supermarket’s specials on eggs and margarine to national patriotic pride. (Of course, we also define madness a little differently these days, and there are conditions for every single type of madness you can get. Mrs Rochester would have been diagnosed with clinical depression, being a bipolar or with yuppie flu and ‘locking her in the attic’ would more likely involve expensive rehab.)


So what is in fact ‘mad’ about this world cup?

# 1: It’s Soccer:

I don’t want to be the person to rain on anybody’s parade (I’m trying to be prophetic – I have to watch a game in Cape Town today and I’m pleading with the rain gods), but soccer is an INCREDIBLY boring game. I’m sure the semis and the finals will be really exciting, but watching each of these round 16 games puts me to sleep quicker than a cup of warm milk. Of course, there are the odd amazing games like Germany’s catastrophic defeat of Australia, but otherwise these games end in 0-0 draws. I totally refuse to sit in a bar and watch my friends play foosball since it’s completely anti-social, so I don’t see why watching a game where no-one does anything is any less so. And when the comparison is the Springboks using power and skill to dominate the French 42-17, soccer falls far short.

# 2: Soccer used to be the sport of defiance:

Mad perhaps is not the best word here, and perhaps ironic fits better. Soccer was the game of defiance that was played during Apartheid. They played soccer in the townships and the homelands because they DIDN’T want to play rugby, and they were defying the traditional Afrikaans/White sport. But now that we are a unified nation, soccer is uniting people and bringing them together in townships, in Ellis Park and in areas where black and white don’t tend to mix.

# 3: You have to pick sides (to which you don’t belong):

It’s a world cup, and I realise that’s what is to be done. I support Bafana Bafana, but I also know that African soccer has a lot to learn from the sexy bedroom soccer of the Argentineans and the elegant upright soccer of the Europeans. So now we pick. I have chosen to support England and France, because I speak English and I like France. But it’s not much in the way of national allegiance, and everyone is randomly picking a team to support in the event that Bafana are out in this round. It doesn’t say much for a sense of national pride.

# 4: This ‘unity’ is shallow:

This may sound totally pessimistic, but unfortunately it is a reality. There may be some nation building going on during this month, and a bout of infrastructure, development and job creation was spawned. But somehow everyone seems to have forgotten how racial tension was flaring up to fever pitch just before all the vuzus brought us together as one. The AWB leader was still murdered in his bed, Malema still got an E for woodwork and sings about Killing the Boer, Shaik still defies the Justice system and Zille still fights tirelessly to win more votes from the apparently-useless ANC government. Our only hope is that the wave of goodwill flowing over this country continues to colour the future of the country, and that when it comes to real issues we can still blow our vuzus together as we stand side by side.