Anger at Suarez’s cynical handball in the dying moments of the 2010 quarterfinal between Ghana and Uruguay persists.
A football tournament has broken out.
Qatar22 has somehow escaped the tentacles of suspicion, disgust and dismay over its corrupt origins and blood-stained stadium-building — although the casual admission by a senior Qatari official that 400 to 500 migrant workers lost their lives during the construction projects threatened to eclipse the increasingly diverting matches during the final round of the group stage.
For most football fans there is a spark that lights the tinder; one moment — a goal, an incident or a whole game — that ignites interest and which locks one into the rest of the narrative.
For me, that moment came through a combination of context and history. The Fireman’s Arms, Cape Town. A venerable institution, where I have watched many of the most important matches over almost three decades, including the opening match of the South African World Cup of 2010.
It was packed to the rafters that day, with a cacophony of vuvuzelas whose owners were clearly singularly ill-equipped to blow them with any semblance of harmony. I thought that my hearing would never recover.
The mood was bright and breezy; a nostalgic sense of Rainbow Nationalism infused the gees of the moment. Jacob Zuma had been in power for just over a year and it was too soon to detect the rampant corruption that he was to unleash upon the country.
That’s the context bit. The historical element that links 2010 with 2022: Luis Suarez.
Anger at Suarez’s cynical handball in the dying moments of the 2010 quarterfinal between Ghana and Uruguay persists. All of the patrons of the Fireman’s were baying for blood in the final group game between the two countries — the first time they have met since that fateful Johannesburg evening 12 years ago.
Ghana, remember, missed the resulting penalty, as Suarez was pictured celebrating in the tunnel after being sent off for the handball.
“F*** off, Suarez you cheating f*****g c***”, screamed the usually reasonable young man with whom I was watching the game.
Suarez is deeply hated on this continent and when he was pictured in tears on the bench at the end, as the result in the other game of the group went against Uruguay knocking them out of the tournament, there was huge celebration.
The tournament was alive. There was passion. Suddenly it meant something.
And now the quarterfinals are alive with possibility. The shape of the draw means that the semis will probably be contested by South Americans on one side — Argentina and Brazil — and Europeans on the other – Portugal versus France or England.
The Netherlands, Croatia or Morocco could disrupt this scenario. But Croatia and Morocco face tough tasks against Brazil, talented but not unbeatable, and Portugal, who seem to me to have that little bit of luck on their side that can sometimes sustain a team all the way to the trophy.
First up are the Dutch and Argentina. Much of the talk about the game has referred back to the semifinal of Brazil 2014, when Argentina prevailed over a zesty group of Dutchmen. But I am old enough to remember the even more painful losses that Holland suffered in two successive finals in the 1970s.
The first was to Germany then, four years later in 1978, to Argentina, in Buenos Aires. The Dutch in the 1970s were truly brilliant — “Total Football” they termed it, because everyone in the team was a baller and there was a positional flexibility that was eye-watering.
Johan Cruyff, Johan Neeskens, Ruud Krol, Johnny Rep. What a rich generation of players.
But in ’78 Argentina had Mario Kempes. To this then 14-year-old, he was sporting glamour personified. The shorts were short and tight then and the bronzed thighs, combined with the long, dark flowing locks, gave him a Greek god-like quality.
He scored twice in a ticker-tape festooned final, in front of a hostile crowd, and there were numerous disputes and controversies at the start of the game, which left a sour taste in the mouth of the defeated Europeans.
The sanitised modern game will never match that kind of intensity. But tonight’s game is full of history and meaning; the Dutch will be seeking revenge, while the unrequited ambition of Lionel Messi will drive the South Americans.