Victory is ours!

2010-06-23 12:48
If you can say, "At the end of the day, the burning question is the score on the board" with the authority of a Tibetan priest, you have what it takes to hop aboard the gravy train’s commentary boxcar and become a household name in households where people talk about that sort of thing. You’ll earn lots of money, and they’ll even throw in the hideous tie for free.

So in all fairness, I should have no problem turning in a column that rambles on about South Africa’s bittersweet victory. They ran with the ball, showed their determination in the face of overwhelming odds, and if you’re still awake, let’s congratulate them for a courageous effort which, at the end of the day, fucked out.

But since I’m a the-glass-is-half-full-but-it’s-a-glass-of-diarrhoea kind of guy, let’s be positive and focus on the negative. We may have fizzled out of the World Cup with a bang, but let’s not forget the elephant in the room that has scarred the landscape of this sporting milestone (OK, I’ll stop with the mixed cliché-metaphors now).

Yes, I’m talking about this genocidal race war that’ s turning our country into the next Zimbabwe, while football tourists are being murdered, raped and hijacked to the point of extinction. Why, oh why didn’t FIFA listen to the realists and move the World Cup to Australia when they still had the chance? Now, as the world’s top players dribble around the rubble and the race riots in our unfinished stadia, the world can finally see what an unmitigated disaster we are as a nation and will probably get NATO to seal off our borders so we don’t infect the rest of the world with our Aids.

God, I love gloating. And sarcasm comes so naturally to me I suspect I was a primary school nun in a previous existence. Maybe it’s because I’m no football fan (and even less of a rugby fan) that I see the 2010 World Cup as the greatest victory in South African sporting history.

This is because our real battle was off the field, against rampant Afro-pessimism from the rest of the world – as well as from fellow Africans who not only predicted, but treason-ously hoped we’d fall flat on our arses. Bitter, twisted soutpiele (a word that’s taken on a whole new meaning post-1994) around the world tried their damndest to convince their new neighbours to stay away from the country that turned them into voluntary refugees. Tabloid newspapers warned that the AWB (ha ha!) would rise up, despite having the potency of a 92-year-old withered phallus.

And all this, despite successfully hosting both the cricket and the rugby World Cups, events which were suspiciously free of all this pessimism. It seems that the only way to prove to the world (including ourselves) that we could do it was to do it. And we did. So suck it up, assholes! How does it feel to be a whinging loser?

If you happen to meet one of these Afro-pessimists (ie. racists) give them a sound klap on the back of the head for being as stupid as they were when they stocked up on tins of baked beans before the first democratic elections.

We’ve won this World Cup, and it’s a sweet victory. It’s huge, it’s successful, and the tourists seem to be having a great time. I can tell by the goddamn noise. Here’s hoping they take all those vuvuzelas they bought back home with them.

Meanwhile, can we move on? In a couple of weeks we’ll emerge from this madness with a hard-earned weapon against the can’t-do spirit, and that weapon comes in the form of three magic words. Next time a big event comes around and some doomsayer predicts how it will all end in tears, just lean forward and whisper, "Soccer World Cup" – and enjoy that sweet victory all over again. publishes all comments posted on articles provided that they adhere to our Comments Policy. Should you wish to report a comment for editorial review, please do so by clicking the 'Report Comment' button to the right of each comment.

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