The trumpet

Most peoples memories of WOZA revolve around the noise picked up by TV cameras giving the impression that there was a constant droning sound deafening all inside the ground. Not the case when you were actually there. I wasn't and still am not a massive fan of the Vuvuzela, but it was by no means annoying to me when I was actually at the matches. My ambivalence to the instrument comes about due it's position as a direct replacement for team songs and chants, which to me is a critical part of physically going to games. I certainly wouldn't have invested my own money on one, but when Henno brought me one back from Bloem, I embraced it as I would any Orlando Pirates emblazoned merchandise.

A relatively poor debut showing from my lips as I tried to make an impression on the Green Point stadium and it's surrounds, the knack seemed to come and go, and stay gone. The trumpet has since featured in the away end at Aberdeen .v. Hearts, helping the away team to a 1-0 win. I wasn't the mouthpiece at that game, having long since thought better of sitting around at Pittodrie in late Autumn watching football just yards away from the baltic North Sea coast. My nephew was the one who endeared himself to the travelling support that day.

However, this was not the only trumpet to feature in my World Cup experience. Stellenbosch's premier drinking hole, The Trumpet Tree, was our venue on several nights to watch the games. Seemingly ran by one of Henno and Christoff's old academic pals, the provision of a log fire and flamin' hot Jalapeno Poppers warmed the frozen souls of those who had migrated to the Cape in winter from much more tropical climes. The Trumpet at the world cup this year, for me, will always be the bar, and not the plastic instrument.