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Thu May 22 2003 (Durban)

We managed to coerce each other out of the hostel in time to head across the road to a nice cafe for breakfast. The sun was out and the staff were friendly, although we were slightly concerned by the sweets section in the menu which was entitled "Puffs, muffs and sweeties". The bacon and sausage sandwich went down a treat and we grabbed our stuff from the room and phoned for a Mozzie cab.

We had a bit of a serious agenda to contend with, meaning we'd need the taxi for a while, so we were glad when our driver, Edwin, turned out to be a top bloke. By the end of the morning we'd decided to adopt him and were concocting plans to ship him and his taxi back to the UK. First stop was to drop Sara off at the travel agents to arrange her homeward journey, then Emma and I continued out to the school. No-one seemed to know exactly where it was but eventually we found a young bloke who was a pupil there. The principal was in a rush to get to a meeting but said a quick hello and gave me my phone back.

Next we were back to the hostel to collect the newly travel-sorted Sara, and into the centre of town to an office block housing the British Consulate. After passing through a metal detector we found the two englandfans reps, and showed our passports and ef membership cards in exchange for the match tickets. They assured us that we wouldn't need to submit the second set of travel info as they'd seen us in person. Although caps won't be credited until the original tickets are returned, which could mean mine will have to wait until August.

We nipped back to the hostel to dump our passports and grab anything we needed for the game, and Edwin finally dropped us at one of the beach front Holiday Inn hotels where Raise The Flag was starting from. I didn't know when I would be arriving in Durban so hadn't registered, and so didn't get one of the obligatory T-shirts (which was particularly smart this time, just my luck). There were around 20 of us from englandfans and around 10 South African fans from the coaching afternoon yesterday.

Us three grabbed a quick drink in the hotel bar and watched the end of the UEFA Cup Final. Then we wandered outside to chat with everyone and eventually we were called to go to the bus. The girls had gone to the toilet and I thought they were still there, so waited for them as the bus was round the other side of the hotel. After a while I gave up and went round to the bus where they were waiting for me with Gary Kitching. Crossed wires as it turned out but I was pretty pissed off at the time. After the short journey out to the stadium, we had a few hassles getting through security. They finally decided we weren't terrorists, and we walked across the pitch to the England end (first time I've ever been allowed on the pitch at any game, let alone an international).

We put the cards out for the England end, which included a form to sponsor South African kids to be coached in football. Normally, blank white and red cards are used in a pattern to create a stand-sized St George's flag. However, there weren't enough England fans to make this work so each card had a small flag on instead. The process became a bit chaotic when we realised there were far more seats than cards so we had to mess around taking cards off some seats to ensure the central section was filled.

By this time quite a few people had lost interest and wandered off and the gates had opened so those fans with flags were arriving to find prime spots for their banners. All of this was accompanied by testing of the loudest sound system I've ever heard at a game. In between African tunes, the mad announcer was strutting up and down the length of the pitch reeling off a continuous chatter of nonsense. I heard a few people after the game moaning about him, but I thought he was good value, certainly better than the likes of the Anfield announcer who sounds like a particularly depressed Scouse Eeyore as he drones everyone to sleep at half-time. Those of us that were left (including all the SA fans) went down to the opposite stand to lay out SA2010 bid cards. This went much quicker as we knew there weren't enough cards and concentrated our efforts in the central section.

At this point it began to dawn on us that we were probably trapped in the stadium, there were 3 hours to go before kick-off and no beer was on sale. Free programmes were being handed out at the gates, so we went down to collect some. I'm not so bothered about that sort of stuff as I gave up buying club programmes ages ago due to cost and never reading them. Emma is the total opposite and grabs whatever she can in terms of memorabilia (team sheets and the like). She also took a few extra for people back home.

I was due to meet Gordon Guy, an SA based Rams fan, and he'd texted me to see if I could find somewhere to meet. We got out of the stadium, then discovered it wasn't a safe area to wander around in, so I'll have to catch up with Gordon another time. We got some food, then I wandered around to take a few stadium photos, by now the stadium was filling up, much earlier than it would in England.

The build-up to the game was good, there was a mini-opening ceremony with singers and Zulu dancers (including women wearing nothing above the waist - I think they should try this at Pride Park to get the attendances back up, certainly gets my vote). Before too long the players were out warming up, Beckham sporting his Bo Derek '10' haircut, and soon after we were into the national anthems. The South African national anthem lasts around half a day, just as you think it's about to end another verse starts up. If they ever become too successful at the Olympics, the Games will have to be extended by a week to fit the medal ceremonies in.

The game itself. Well, as usual I don't tend to remember much. Lively start with a quick goal for England, then the South African equaliser and generally a downhill progression into utter tedium. I spent 15 minutes queueing for a drink of water at half-time, which was in vain as they'd run out. Second half continued to generate yawns rather than thrills, apart from the brief excitement when the winner went in. After the final whistle, Owen received a winner's trophy (Beckham having departed earlier with his broken wrist), which drew an ironic cheer from the remaining England fans. Also, Lucas Radebe gave a speech to mark the end of his impressive international career. It was interesting to note he was still wearing his match shirt which he had promised to give to young Will Kitching.

This game was partially a get-together and run-out for the England squad, and more significantly the kick-off of the South African bid for the 2010 World Cup. In light of this, the South African crowd, whilst filling the stadium, were disappointing. They reacted to the game, rather than followed it, in a similar way to the Japanese fans at last year's World Cup. If the ball goes anywhere near the goal (even 15 yards over it), there's a huge cheer, if someone plays a 35 yard ball into space they hardly notice. That would be fine (as it was in Japan), were South Africa devoid of people who understand the game. That, however, is most certainly not the case. The black population are passionate about football and as such football is generally regarded as a black sport, with rugby white and cricket white / Asian. So what went wrong at the Absa stadium? There were hardly any black people there, simple as that. I would guess fewer than 10%. Almost certainly priced out of the game, they were replaced by white and Asian people with little understanding of football and who were probably attending their first (and last?) match. This could easily be repeated at every single game of a South African World Cup, and if it did it would be a travesty and a disaster for the tournament. As part of their bid, the South African FA should ensure a fan loyalty system is put in place within the next couple of years. Combined with reduced prices for SA residents, this should hopefully result in stadiums packed with people who have a passion for and understanding of the game to match the most ardent ranks of the England supporters.

We left the ground in a group, shepherded by Gary Kitching through some fairly dodgy streets, and found ourselves on a main road where we managed to cobble together enough taxis to get us all back to Joe Cool's. Once there I managed to get an Afrikaans signature on my shirt, and one of the lads (can't remember who?) treated us (and most of Durban) to the disturbing sight of his naked body, belly and all. I met some lads from Worksop (near where I grew up), Mansfield fans, and we eventually got back to the hostel around 6am.

Photos from today