Like many South Africans, it has taken a World Cup in our own home country to get me interested in soccer. And only two weeks in, I’m sold – hook, line and sinker. Watching Bafana Bafana play their hearts out against Frogs on Tuesday was literally the most exhilarating moment of my life. My hands shook with hope, joy, disappointment but above all, pride – not just for the team, but for our country and the fans. (And this was before I took advantage of Jolly Cool’s two-for-the-price-of-one tequila special.) Unlike some nations who will remain nameless, South Africans have the unique ability to 
celebrate just about anything, anywhere – even if it’s a loss. We’ll dance in the streets, at tollgates, in shopping centres, restaurants, bars, clubs, shebeens and at work. We’ll sing before battle, during strikes, as well as parades, and along with Shakira and the Black Eyed Peas one too many times.
It’s very easy to be patriotic off such a high as Bafana’s passionate display and the excitement of the World Cup and I can only pray that these feelings linger long after the last goal has been scored. We’re all proudly South African now, but credit and thanks must to go to those who believed in us long before the first plane-load of tourists arrived.
As hopeful as I was about us being the hosts with the most when the bid was announced four years ago, I had my doubts. I never thought the Gautrain would be ready in time, I voted in favour of banning vuvuzelas, I didn’t bother to understand the off-sides rule and couldn’t figure out why we should fork over cash for sport stadiums. Ashamedly, I was also one of those people who gargled the middle part of our national anthem.
Now that I can say that I’ve felt the gees with every bone in my body, I don’t want it to go away. Don’t stop supporting the competition, the team and our country. We’re capable of so much more than we ever thought possible and regression is not an option. This time last year I would never have imagined that I’d stick our flag on my car and around my neck. I also never dreamt that I’d be showing Americans how to order beers at The Baron, drinking tequila with Mexicans at The Bohemian or taking a bus with Italians to Green Point Stadium. I finally get it. This is why they call it The Beautiful Game.
Nat
xoxo
