Until last week, I didn’t know the name of that extremely annoying horn. You know the one at this year’s World Cup. People blast its monotonous note (the term ‘musical instrument’ is somewhat far-fetched) at rugby matches over here. I assumed it was for folk who hadn’t the wit or the intelligence to think up a chant or remember words. You know, like those mind-numbingly banal ‘thunder-sticks’ that are also all the rage in this country.
Apparently they are called vuvuzelas. And outside South Africa (and tedious provincial rugby matches in New Zealand) they are extremely unpopular. There is a website you can visit and vote as to whether you want to see them banned or not. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that they are ruining my enjoyment of the World Cup (Ronaldo is doing that) and it is up to South Africa to have them if they choose (indeed, there is even an argument that the vuvuzela is a symbol of racial and financial unification), but they certainly are excruciatingly loud and mind-numbingly unoriginal.
The BBC is considering filtering out the noise – if they could do this and keep the rest of the crowd noise – the singing; the chanting; the oohs and ahs; the cheers and groans – plus the commentator, then it would be worth it. You can just mute your TV, but then you won’t hear the commentators quips and questions – my favourite so far: “Will this be France’s chance to score? No.” So, I guess I’ll just have to suffer through it. The only game so far where I could actually hear the crowd singing through the wet blanket of whining was England v USA – funny that.
The vuvuzela cacophony sounds like a swarm of irritated (and irritating) mosquitoes – how could that possibly be desirable? I hate high-pitched noises (whistles; squeaky shoes on indoor courts; smoke alarms; children…) so these things give me a headache and set my teeth on edge. I am not alone. 83,951 people had voted to ban them on the previously-mentioned website at last look. Apparently this is ‘cultural snobbery’ and ‘patronising’. Fair enough; when in Rome and all that. Mexico gave us the wave (which, incidnetally, many organisations tried to ban); South Africa the vuvuzela. My, how we’ve suffered. It’s in Brazil in 2014 – we should have drums and sambas; that will be something to be celebrated.
Speaking of something to be celebrated – New Zealand gained their first point ever at the World Cup last night. It came in the 93rd minute, but it was the first decent cross they put in all game – congratulations Shane Smeltz. Never mind the fact that no one had previously heard of the under-19 and under-21 Danish goal-scorer; he is now a national hero. And rightly so. His precision header and Smeltz’s flash of inspiration elevated the lacklustre match into a public celebration of the beautiful game. And yes, my Arsenal-supporting-but-otherwise-likeable friend, you’re right; it does look magnificent, no matter how you look at it!
I must admit, I wasn’t expecting the NZ goal – nothing in the previous 92 minutes had led me to suspect that they even knew where the net was, but I was very happy to be proved wrong. I will be even happier if I am proved even wronger and they manage to take points from either Paraguay (unlikely) or Italy (practically impossible). If they get through the group stage I stand to win the grand total of $45. If you’re out with me that weekend, I’ll buy you a pint.
As gluttons for punishment, him outdoors and I have got season’s tickets for the next instalment of the Wellington Phoenix.
The first game of the season had an upbeat atmosphere, the pubs were bursting at the seams before the match, there was a surfeit of yellow and black as folk proudly modelled their new hats, scarves and t-shirts (admittedly over long-sleeves – this is Wellington!), and the sun was shining brightly.
A friend had come up from Christchurch for the game (among other things) and he commented that it was great to see so many people turn out to support a new team without any history or tradition (they’re only a year old) who finished bottom of the league in their inaugural campaign. There were about 10,500 people present.
Last weekend there weren’t so many people out in force (about 6,500) as the rain pelted down and the sodden pitch didn’t exactly lend itself to any silky footballing skills. And the Phoenix lost 2-4 in a fairly horrendous display saved only by the odd flash of competency from Shane Smeltz (currently the top scorer in the A league and the only scorer in Wellington) and Richard Johnson.
But I enjoyed it. There was that same resigned demeanour that used to accompany those awful matches on Tuesday nights away to Chester City. You faced up to it like a martyr, as though you should be awarded your football supporter’s badge to sew onto the shoulder of your uniform. It may have been rubbish, but at least we were there.
One thing that ruins the determinedly festive atmosphere though is those appalling banging-together sticks. I think the marketing term is ‘thunder sticks’ but ‘blatant advertising slogans for people who don’t have the intelligence to clap their own hands’ might be more appropriate.
Usually seen at netball or Chinese stadiums where if you don’t follow the orchestrated regime you will get shot, these things are horrendous. Children love them because they love irritating things that make pointless noise. Actually, they are irritating things that make pointless noise. Their only saving grace is that they have given rise to the chant of ‘You can stick your f*%^ink sticks up your arse.’
Said friend from earlier in the piece reckons these would make it into my blog as the first in a line of sporadic ‘my latest least favourite things.’ Don’t get me started…
So just to recap - this is a football crowd:
And this is a netball crowd.
See the difference?
