However my chances appeared to be 50/50 at best for despite furious behind-the-scene wranglings by Matt Smith we had only procured seven tickets between our ten-man party. Someone was destined to be disappointed.
Before that though we had an eagerly awaited group night out to attend. Our last Friday evening had long been set aside to celebrate a successful tour for talkSPORT, for South Africa and because life in general had been pretty good. It was also a chance for us all to say thank you and goodbye to Karin, Neil, Samantha and Candice, our South African family who'd made our stay in Johannesburg such a special one.
The evening started eventfully, but thankfully, the negative actions of one couldn't curtail the positive intentions of the few and once our group had been reduced we all settled down to enjoy each others company in the surrounds of a local Asian restaurant. Not that Pad Thai was on my menu. For, while the others tucked into various noodle dishes and chilli cocktails (weird) I opted for a giant 500g rib-eye steak. With Fe's unbeatable home cooked Chinese food just days away I thought I'd take advantage of ridiculously expensive cuts of meat at equally ridiculously cheap prices while I could.
A pleasant evening unfolded and before long we were making plans to go on. With the wine and cocktails flowing freely our group split (amicably, this time) between those who wanted to go on drinking and those who fancied a flutter at the nearby Montecasino. And after a wait for our taxi to arrive myself, Romford Pele, Jim Proudfoot, Antony & Samantha squeezed into our vehicle, offered Samantha the only available seatbelt, and directed the cabby to an establishment that had fast become our first port of call on an evening, the News Cafe in Sandton.
We didn't arrive until 1am and got stuck in. For the next four hours every round consisted of a double and a shot known as a Springbok. And an evening that started so ignominiously ended in a manner more befitting the celebratory mood we'd hoped for as we danced about, mucked around and chatted to anyone who’d listen.
From the little I remember from the evening there were several highlights. But perhaps the best was when Ray spotted Dutch legend Ronald Koeman, strode up to him with hand outstretched and cheerily said “Hello Roland” in a manner only those who watched Grange Hill in the 80’s can truly appreciate.
The other notable moment of the evening also involved a former World Cup footballer. (Well, did you really expect anything else?) Veteran of the 1998 World Cup, and certified madman, Edmundo repeatedly tried to gatecrash our group and we repeatedly tried to prevent him. He’d obviously decided that Samantha was the girl for him and spent a good two hours putting all his efforts into catching her attention.
However once he realised that conventional means weren’t going to work with a girl 19 years his junior (and in a relationship) he employed more unconventional means. His ‘alternative’ pick-up tactics included hair pulling and biting. It reminded me of my brothers pulling technique back in the day. In the end we took it in turns to pretend to be Samantha’s boyfriend and he got tired of talking to the back of our heads and buggered off.
It was still dark when we finally followed suit, but only just. With the clock approaching six in the morning we staggered out of our cab and said our goodnights. It had been a fitting end of tour night out.
The next day was a painful affair and one of the most testing of my career. I didn’t emerge until after midday and spent a couple of hours disconsolately pacing around the grounds and the pool in the afternoon sun. Ray said I reminded him of a polar bear at the zoo.
Jim appeared an hour or so later to announce that he couldn't remember ever drinking more in his life. And our VISA bills in the coming days would be testament to that fact.
A mid-afternoon kip was followed by a gentle production shift as beaten semi-finalists Germany v Uruguay turned the most derided match of the World Cup into one of its most exciting. But once I turned in for the night sleep was hard to come by and I’d watched complete re-runs of two matches before I finally managed to drift off.
After four hours sleep I woke up on my penultimate day in Johannesburg with a text telling me I was going to the final. Shortly after I found out I was to produce live from the match. Considering I had been a late call up and the last producer on the plane it was a proud moment to think that I would be the one to bring the final to the millions listening to talkSPORT.
And there was more good news as Matt had managed to obtain the three additional tickets which meant the whole talkSPORT crew would go to the (foot)ball. And despite all that was going on in life and in my head I set out from the Lodge determined that nothing would get in the way of making the most out of the occasion.
I arrived at Soccer City with plenty of time to go before kick off and after buying a couple of programmes I set our equipment up in the press box. I was producing a two hour build up show which was to incorporate the closing ceremony. I've never been to a closing ceremony before (nor an opening one for that matter) and I will remember to not be so quick to dismiss them in future.
It was bloody awesome. An overhead fly-by sent tremors through the stadium to signal the start. For a split second, as the lights dimmed, and unnannounced vibrations and noise rocked Soccer City I thought I was having a bit of a senior moment. But as the lasers started up and the dancers appeared in front of me I began to enjoy myself. And who wouldn't enjoy the sight of Shakira, fake elephants, crazy graphics, singers, fireworks and loud music?
But the best was still to come. Earlier on in the tour I'd started reading Nelson Mandela's biography. Coupled with the trips I'd had to the Hector Pieterson & Apartheid Museums it had provided me with an insight into life in South Africa that I'd never had the opportunity to glimpse before. Indeed when people ask what was the best thing about my trip my immediate response is to point at the opportunity to really learn about the country, its people and its history. And at the centre of all that is one man, and with very little warning, and accompanied by a roar that easily dwarfed any other in the World Cup, he suddenly appeared in front of everyone in the stadium.
It was a moment to rival any other as he was driven around the pitch all the while waving and smiling at the crowd. For once the press corp abandoned all professionalism and joined in the celebrations. Cameras flashed, people punched the air & hugged each other, the noise was incredible. Even though I was wearing three layers I'm sure you could still see my goosebumps. It was without doubt the standout moment of my tour.
All of this and the main event was still to come. Lucky old me! A match that promised so much. The mercurial midfield talents of Iniesta & Sneijder. Two undeniably talented teams but who are often European underdogs and without a World Cup trophy between them. Plenty of Premier League talent in van Persis & Fabregas. And two teams who are famous for playing attractive, attacking football in the right way.
Well so much for any of that. It was a horrible game. The first half as bad as any I can remember. The attitude of both sets of players was appalling and I felt sorry for Howard Webb who found himself slap bang in the middle of a 'damned if you do and damned if you don't' situation. But saying all this, if Ramos (twice) and Robben (twice) had taken guilt edged chances we'd have been talking about a classic World Cup final!
But they didn't and the only saving grace about the match (apart from the fact that I was there, rather than watching listlessly on the TV) was that Iniesta scored a good goal in open play and prevented Holland from winning the match on penalties. For that, and the ensuing scenes of celebration, I will forever be grateful.
And that was about that for the following evening was hometime. After the stresses and strains of my last weekend in Jo'Burg a ten hour flight home wasn't exactly top of my list of things to do. But despite an emotional farewell at the Lodge, there was no mistaking the feeling of my body and mind telling me it was time to go home. But as I sat in my cab on the way to the airport and stared out the window I knew I would one day return. I await news of England's next cricket tour to South Africa with interest.......
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