Only one week before the start of the short tournament, highly regarded by Fifa, Brazil and South Africa but pretty much ignored by the rest of the world, champions included (more of this later, I’ve realized that, for me, regardless of the results, it would have been a great experience.
I’ve never watched Italy live. Or any world champion. Before 2006, Italy was ruling the world in 1982, and I was too damn small to convince my dad to take me the matches. Plus, pretty much like now, the team was ageing not very well and Italy kept touring around Italy but not very often they were playing around Milan.
It doesn’t happen that often that your team is the current world champion, that they play a minimum of 3 matches within a radius of 50km from your house, and that you can afford the tickets. Yet, this was one of the secondary reasons why I moved down here in 2007.
Lindsey knew I was very excited by finally seeing her husband breaking the usual work routine and for once forgets about real life and the pressure at work. Just like a kid, I had my Italian shirt ready to me shown to the world, together with my flag and my lungs.
The first scheduled match was going to be Italy against USA, in Pretoria. Never been to the city or the stadium, so when David agreed to come with me (I had 2 tickets for each game) I was more than happy to go with someone with the knowledge of the area.
Lindsey decided to stay home for this first game on a Monday night, knowing that the next day she would have found some problems waking up the next morning. Not a problem, I said. You can always enjoy watching the world champions destroying Egypt and then play in a classic match against Brazil. How wrong I was.
Italy has never been famous for playing like Brazil or, recently Spain. They have always won the hard way, and only with the right motivation. Ask Italy to play Malta, and they would win 2-1 just playing decently enough to get the victory. Ask Germany to play them, and the score would have been 8-0.
Then, in the tournaments, everything change. Somehow the Italians find motivations when they play as underdogs or against a team that is more supported, loved or just plays better. Think about the last European Cup won by Spain. Who was the only team that Spain failed to beat? Italy, who lost only at penalties.
So I thought I knew what to expect. A lot of heart, runs and few goals, with the usual antics that make Italy so hated abroad, by male supporters. The girls couldn’t care less, as long as they are good looking they are ok.
The first thing that I noticed by driving to Pretoria and parking in the designated area was the lack of congestion and the incredible organization provided by the local authorities. Everything just run smoothly, it felt like Switzerland, just with more blacks, less mountains and cuckoo clocks.
The second thing was how damn cold the evening is in Pretoria (which is warmer than Johannesburg). When they gave the world cup to South Africa I think no one really thought it thoroughly. It’s winter down here! Yes, it’s still nice and warm during the day but as soon as the sun sets down you are freezing! It will be the coldest world cup in history, and, in the area, the next one after Mexico 1986 where the lack of oxygen will test the players at this altitude.
After approaching the parking area, we jumped on the buses for a short 10 minutes drive in the emptied area around the stadium. The Loftus Versfeld stadium is a structure commonly use for rugby and getting some revamp for next year.
It’s just small, but, unlike most of the awful Italian stadiums, this is inspired by the English model: no athletic track, no barriers and very close to the action.
My cheap tickets as South African residents (5 Euros each!) were located behind the goals, and I could see the action (as long as it was in the last 20 meters…). Luckily, all the goals happened where I was sitting.
There isn’t much to say about the game. Italy won 3-1 after trailing 0-1 at the interval, thanks to a penalty given away by the idiot (Chiellini) in the centre of the defence. Only when the USA got a red card then Italy, 11 against 10, started playing decently and getting some confidence, but only when Rossi (a young player born in the USA from Italian parents) came in as substitute to score 2 great quick goals then I could relax. Nice way to start a tournament, but it’s hard to believe that Italy played so badly and uninspired in the first half… after all, as world champions, they should play much better!
So, few days later, I was back on the road with Lindsey, Jill and Curtis (who swapped their tickets to come and watch Italy with us) to go to Ellis Park, another rugby stadium, and watch Italy Egypt.
Unlike Pretoria, closing the area surrounding the stadium wasn’t that easy. The constant flow of traffic of people going back home after a hard day of work didn’t really help. To get there it took as almost an hour more than to drive to Pretoria… 
While I was impressed by the stadium (and by sitting in the top tier I could enjoy the game from a Sensible Soccer kind of view), but the stinky area around it was terrible.
Worst, unlike in the USA game, there were more supporters cheering for Egypt just because they were part of the same continent (I would never cheer France against any other extra-european team, but that’s just me). Come on, Egypt and South Africa have as much in common as Italy and Iceland: they belong to the same continent and they have McDonalds.
Again, I won’t spend much time to discuss the game. Italy was crap, and they lost. Egypt fully deserved the victory because, if a team of opportunistic like Italy can’t score in 15 chances in 10 minutes, then they shouldn’t even try. It was quite humiliating. I come here, I take my wife and friends, I sing the national anthem and those 11 + manager + bench don’t even bother. What the hell? 
Anyway, with Brazil winning the first two games, Italy had to win or at least draw against the South American team. Sure Italy will find some dignity and, as usually, step up to the appointment when it’s a win-only situation?
This time the game was scheduled back in Pretoria, on Sunday night. I took Lindsey again because I wanted at least once celebrate with her an Italian goal, even if the score was going to be 1-6. We were in the stadium quite early and I’ve even met some of my football teammates. The stadium was the only total sold-out of the competition, and it was obvious from the start that this was going to be a great night of football, if only the team in the pale azzurri shirt (who chose the colour for the competition? It looks awful) decided to play.
It was another disaster. Not even my vuvuzela could compensate from the major disappointment of losing 0-3 against Brazil. It could have been 0-21 and at least most of the players would have never played for the Italian shirt again. Even useless players like Camoranesi (probably Lippi’s lover), Toni (1.94cm and is down at every single contact?), Gilardino (Toni’s lover?) and pretty much everyone in the back four (Grosso excluded). Give me back crazy Materazzi…
My final thoughts: