Germany 1 Ghana Zero aka Parking Attendent 100 US 0

It's another big night. Germany Ghana at Soccer City in Soweto. We pull up to Park Station and my bro in his finite wisdom decides to take up the generous offer of one of those orange clad parking stewards to park on the sidewalk on the bridge. For a small fee of fifty rand said steward fellow and his cohorts will keep things copacetic in our extended absence.

And then we enter the station. Into the womb of Africa. When I was a child, Park Station was a mythical place. Setting foot in its lofty halls was like stepping into another dimension where the very essence of adventure was contained with promises of extraordinary journeys. In the past decade or so, it has become a forbidden zone for white people. A place where the signs read "Beyond here be adventures that will swallow you whole."


And indeed, we are swallowed whole my bro and me. We are sucked into a meeting place of nations, a conduit of communication, a world of possibilities. The party on the platform is welcoming to all who dare let go and connect to a new paradigm. And so with Vuvuzelas echoing in the caverns of an intoxicating Halloween-inspired underworld, we board a train heated by goodwill and move slowly and inexorably toward Soccer City, Soweto.

The vision of that stadium as you cross over the bridge takes your breath away. It looks like a cross between a UFO having a service and a Hundertwasser on steroids. There’s something about it that renews your faith in excellence and blasts the idea of mediocrity clean out of existence. The stadium is at once gentle as it nudges the night sky out of its way and bold as it redefines the possibility of what humans can do.


You don’t climb to get to the top of this stadium. You are invited up and you effortlessly ascend its wide ramps with no sense of gravity. It feels like you’re alone on a private journey. And when you enter the gathering of the tribes at its core, the cosmic energy ignites your soul and you dance your way into the light of a hundred thousand pumping hearts.



As if to keep the spirit of unity alive, the Soccer gods grant entrance to both teams to the second round. Nice touch. My bro and me play the journey in reverse and arrive back at the car only to find that the parking stewards in a flash of economic inspiration have double rented the parking spaces. Yes, we’re parked in and prospects are dismal for a speedy departure.

For the next half an hour we are treated to a spectacular Oscar-worthy performance by these fellows as they hold their heads in consternation and gesticulate wildly to give punctuation to their incredulousness that such a thing could possibly have occurred on their watch. And then to cap it all, when Jimmy the Greek finally does arrive, he wants to beat me up for parking us in. Yup, a piece of that old South Africa is still alive and well. Ayobo!