Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough of attempting not to write about the Confederations Cup. I wanted it, like the hype that didn’t precede it, to just die away and I could return to my normal life of never having to hear a vuvuzela. I have, on the odd occasion, accidentally changed the channel to South African football before, with the result being simultaneous immediately raised blood-pressure, panic and rage. But luckily this would only ever last a few agonizing seconds.
But on Sunday I was subjected to more than three hours of this hell on earth. That’s right; I went to a Confederations Cup game between Spain and New Zealand. Actually it was more like Spain against a school of special needs children, but that is neither here nor there.
We arrived at the Royal Bafokeng Sports Palace full of cheer and merriment. We told jokes on the way and would slap our sides with hortelling, chortelling laughter. Yes, indeed we were a truly merry bunch, ready for an evening of (pointless) Confed. Cup fun. But it was not to be.
I vowed, then and there, that after that first (and only) evening of the authentic South African soccer experience, I would never ever allow myself to be subjected to it again. There were many things amiss that left me disappointed and angry that evening, but none so offensive to my senses as the Vuvuzela.
Oh how the South African yokel loves to blow his own trumpet. One of the things I love most about the politicians that run this fair dominion is how, at their discretion, they can make up their own history as they go along. The vuvuzela is one such example.
According to SouthAfrica.info, a site run by the International Marketing Council of South Africa, the origin of the vuvuzela is rooted in the mists of time: “The ancestor of the vuvuzela is said to be the kudu horn – ixilongo in isiXhosa, mhalamhala in Tshivenda – blown to summon African villagers to meetings. Later versions were made of tin.” This is, of course, bullshit.
The real story is told by boogieblast.co.za, makers of the damn thing: “The first prototype was from America and changed somewhat for more comfortable blowing and effectiveness. We have researched the history of the Vuvuzela, and follows a trail back to a women’s Chinese basketball team.” But as with so many things in this country, history is as malleable as the minds of the people.
Those arguing for the vuvuzela maintain that it is part of the great South African soccer culture and that not allowing it would truly be an injustice. Bullshit. They’ve been around less than ten years. It was only when some bastard called “Neil van Schalkwyk, the co-owner of Masincedane Sport, which manufactures the plastic vuvuzela, won the SAB KickStart Award in 2001, which is an SAB-run project that assists entrepreneurs by providing grants and mentorship during the start-up phase of business.” that the vuvuzela really started making an impact.
But I digress. I know I sound like an old man complaining about the youth and their music, but by thunder I hate that sound. I hate it so much. I was sitting just in front of two young white whipper-snappers, who had obviously never been to a South African PSL match in their lives. Well, technically Kyle was just in front of them, but I was right next to Kyle. These children were blowing their little lungs out right into Kyle’s left ear. In what other venue on this planet could you blow an air-horn at over 120 decibels directly into a man’s ear without feeling the sharp crack as your jaw shatters on the pavement?
It is insane to allow them into stadia. I cannot imagine the kind of hearing loss these things can cause. But for reasons I cannot fathom they are thrust, literally, into my face whilst I am left just barely clinging to sanity. Apparently some psychologists say that the vuvuzela can cause rage in the human as, not only is it loud, but as it is constantly off-pitch, it is offensive to the senses. Just think about how much bagpipes enrage us, but luckily we have all but rid the planet of them.
I thought I had recovered after a few days, but just like those Vietnam flashbacks, I panicked when I switched over to a game yesterday. I actually got angry. I had to go outside and kill something. Luckily something wasn’t around.
One of the great ironies of the whole debate that has flared up over the proposed banning of the vuvuzela is that it is seen as a racist attack on a black South-African institution. This, when the entire vuvuzela empire is in the hands of a white Afrikaans man and a guy called Beville Bachman, need I say more.
I don’t know how, but by Odin I will have those things banned from the World Cup; even if I have to pry every last one out of the lifeless hands of the victims of the spree-killing the sound incites in me.
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I’m Argentinian. I was waiting four years for this cup and now I almost hate it because of the vuvuzelas. No one can hear anything, players can’t pay atention to the match, is incredible how that thing can destroy the game, but it does. I dont know if the vuvuzelas will be banned or not, but Im pretty sure is the last WC in South Africa… just because of the vuvuzelas.
¡Vamo’ Argentina!
Personally I don’t see the problem with these horns. I reckon that they are only annoying if you let yourself get annoyed by them.
Otherwise why is it that some people feel forced to turn off the TV and others do not, we are all the same inside, from a species point of view.
Via la vuvuzela I say!
I think we’re all missing the most important revelation here.
Soccer sucks harder than our mothers did the various nights of our conceptions. *All* of the horn-banning just goes to show how brain-dead the fans of the game are in general. If you feel the need to repeat a high volume, high pitched, meaningless, repetitive tone, to the point where everyone around you hates you- you’re probably still around 3 years old in your mentality. OTOH if you don’t bring earplugs to a public event before you even show up, knowing in advance that it is a PUBLIC event and that by virtue of that fact, retardation is likely to abound… and then bitch about your inability to pay attention to the world around you, then you’re just as bad.
The only positive thing I can say about Soccer is that this particular horn fiasco is causing quite a ruckus at /b/.
And I thank South Africa for that. *thumbs up*
Andrew you are unbelievably super funny! I laughed so hard when I read your story. You should consider becoming a comedian. Just remember, it ani’t nothin’ but a thang. Right on Bro!
Boo Boo
I am so very happy that a year after I wrote this little post, it’s getting so much attention.
If only I had known that I could stir up such great debate and some wonderful hate-speech, ala Vuvuzela Queen.
So Vuvuzela Queen, where are your facts to render my assertions null? You see, in order for facts to be incorrect, they are no longer facts, are they?
And by the way: I can write exactly what I please and when I please. It’s called the constitution. I could even, for instance, say that you are a bigoted racist who should write in paragraphs.
Yes, you are correct on matter. I love rugby. I do sit at home and watch it. I didn’t miss a single Bulls match this entire season. But your Blatant (a pun) insinuation that I am A: Afrikaans and therefore a big fat racist and B: A football hater, is incorrect and you are a fool for saying so.
I love football, always have. I love Eric Cantona, even more than slagging a fool like you. I love the US Soccer team, due to their amazing spirit. And guess what, I was there to watch them against England and will watch the Algeria game on Wednesday.
To all the haters: I love you all, as I finally have a reason to write again.
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