the other football: A Bafana Friendly

I was curious if folks in Cape Town would fancy a friendly. Last night Bafana were hosting Bulgaria. I had seen how a major Rugby match involving a local side had overshadowed the UEFA Champions League Final, as it should it have done. But what would the 'downtown' vibe be on a random Monday night in Cape Town when Orlando Stadium in Soweto was home to the good guys.

My worst fears were realized. And this despite their being a noticeable local attachment to the pageantry of participation in the World Cup. I made a point of passing by most every significant establishment on the very long, Long Street, its ancillary arteries and its lofty continium, Kloof Street. There were plenty of folk about, eating and engaging in various act of jolly. But in the background of every joint, multiple plasma screens were featuring the West Indies, 'showing 'em the Willow'.

I decided to make specific and unscientific enquiries about this Beyond the Boundary clash with Bafana. The responses were overwhelmingly ridiculous.

I was greeted with a smile in the magnetic Long Street Cafe, but that soon morphed into a muddled expression when I asked, "Are you showing the football?" "Who's playing?", the demur waitress, responded. "You are.", I politely replied. She quickly retreated and searched for reinforcements, clearly still not quite sure what I had meant by "You". She returned and asked if I had meant, "South Africa"? "Yes, your team is playing tonight, and I have come thousands of miles to share such moments with you.", I added, longingly. There followed a conference of managers in the rear and she returned with a red card. "No, we showing the cricket."

This pattern continued along the main drag and was no different as I climbed Kloof. The Hudson Burger Joint on Kloof has a stable of fine young fillies working the tables. It's a small cosy place. It tends to be busy and folks are friendly. So, I'm not hating. But c'mon now. Talk about gluttons for punishment. How much Willow can you take?

Finally, relief at a simple and straightforward establishment, Arnolds. It's the sort of Breakfast served till 5 O'clock place you'd find in Brooklyn. Nothing flashy, just decent grub at decent prices. The wait staff were not dolled up, as in other places, they were just there and ready to assist, and more importantly, the management was there to satisfy my Bafana craving. Mike the manager needed no prompting about the importance of Bafana. Customer is King kinda place. I shared a table with Mike (before he departed). He assessed my peckishness and ensured an order of fine Warthog ribs was readied. He made feel me welcome and was attentive to every detail, particularly, the warthog juice dripping from my jaw. The young waiter was quick to quench my thirst with my first ever quaff of Castle, and kept them coming. Another manager, Enoch, took over, doubling the welcome and bringing some strong Bafana observations to the table.