Germany 3 Uruguay 2, the penultimate match of South Africa 2010 has the world on the edge of their seats

Game number 63 of 64 in South Africa turned out to be the game of the tournament. The World Cup final between Spain and the Netherlands at Soccer City tomorrow can't possibly live up to the throbbing mayhem of Germany 3, Uruguay 2 in Port Elizabeth.

There have been times when the third-fourth play-off has been a limp addendum to the tournament. Not this time. Not in South Africa, where the pleasant surprises just keep on coming.

With the Golden Boot up for grabs, my young player of the tournament Thomas Mueller opened the scoring, following up on Bastian Schweinsteiger’s shot. Fernando Muslera did his best to get a grip on that dastardly Jabulani ball, but Mueller was there for the rebound after 19 minutes.

Schweinsteiger, who scored twice in this game four years ago, then got caught in possession - Diego Perez produced a dream sliding tackle, came up with the ball, and found Luis Suarez. He let Edinson Cavani loose and the veteran German goalkeeper Hans-Joerg Butt was beaten for the equaliser after 28 minutes.

Uruguay, with Luis Suarez roundly booed for his handball against Ghana (can’t agree with that, we would all have done the same as he did), refused to recognise their status as Africa’s pariahs. And just as Mueller had joined Holland’s Wesley Sneijder and Spain David Villa on five goals, so Diego Forlan did the same.

Again Suarez was involved, this time his cross found Forlan – like Mueller included in my World Cup XI http://neal-collins.blogspot.com/2010/07/world-cup-xi-best-and-worst-of-south.html - and his bounced-volley beat Butt.

By now we knew this was no ordinary game. Only three times in this World Cup had sides come back from behind – Holland’s quarter-final victory over Brazil at the same ground was the most notable – and both sides simply threw themselves into the fray.

With 56 minutes played, Uruguay keeper Muslera failed to get new Manchester City signing Jerome Boateng’s cross – he may have been impeded by a defender, but he should have crashed him out of the way – and there was Marcell Jansen to make it 2-2.

With Boateng charging from left back to right wing and the vuvuzelas reaching fever pitch, we had to have a winner. And we got one eight minutes from time. Uruguay failed to clear a German corner and the ball sat up beautifully for Sami Khedira – another of Germany’s great young immigrant stars – to head home.

But still it wasn’t over. Drenched by rain and sweat, the players stormed up and down at the end of a month of absorbing football. And the game of games at this tournament so nearly ended in drama. With the last kick of the game, Forlan the formidable, looped a free-kick on to the bar.

The Jabulani, which will be replaced by a unique “Jo-Bulani” ball for the final, just wouldn’t come down another inch.

Germany had taken third again. But Uruguay go home with their heads high. What a night. Another great night at South Africa 2010. Please Spain, don’t stifle the Dutch tomorrow. Take them on, go for goal. Make it another night to remember for the Rainbow Nation and 600 million people across the globe.

2010 World Cup final preview: And the winner is... ubuntu

Today we should be talking football. It’s the World Cup final on Sunday, a billion people will be watching Soccer City and Holland or Spain will become the first new winners since France in 1998.

But suddenly, as this vibrant tournament draws to a close, I feel the need to talk ubuntu.

There are a lot of translations of this curious African word. The closest I can get appeared in the South African newspaper the Daily Dispatch this week. It says ubuntu is “the acceptance of others as parts of the sum total of each of us”. Some might just call it mutual respect. Others see it as a kind of warm, all-embracing African love story.

My dad, born in Portsmouth in 1933 but a resident of Pretoria since 1970, says ubuntu is: “Treating everyone like you’re all one big family.”

And that’s what we’ve had here isn’t it? From the opening concert at Soweto’s Super Stadium to that moment the World Cup turns orange or red on Sunday night. At outpouring of African affection.

Don’t confuse that with the massive support for Bafana Bafana early in this tournament. Or the outpouring of grief when fellow Africans Ghana were cruelly put out of the tournament at the quarter-final stage. It may have something to do with the incredible lack of animosity between fans here, the lack of real problems in a nation still growing.

Ubuntu is that feeling you get when you’re lost in South Africa expecting trouble from the group of lads up ahead... only to find gleaming smiles and offers of help.

Ubuntu is when you’re standing in a lengthy cue for the park-and-ride at Polokwane, and everybody wants to talk about Wayne Rooney rather than whinge about the delay.

Ubuntu is when you’re in Sandton trying to pay for parking, and the dodgy looking fellow in overalls comes over and uses his change to get you out.

Ubuntu is when you cower as a local comes rushing towards you in the dark outside Soccer City... and hugs you in sympathy because you’re wearing the Three Lions.

Ubuntu is when dozens gather round to help you blow your vuvuzela properly, and at the right time.

Ubuntu occurred even before the big kick-off on June 11 when, before the tournament began, Pretoria’s Blue Bulls were forced to play their Super 15 rugby final in Soweto because Loftus Versfeld had been booked by FIFA. Ubuntu reigned supreme for a fortnight among folk who have barely heard the term.

And when Adrian van der Bijl, a the prominent local businessman who owns Irene Lodge, the home of the USA in this tournament, left his mobile phone in a shebeen and thought it was lost, ubuntu ran through him when his wife’s cell rang. The shebeen workers had found his phone.

Ubuntu is Africa, despite a thousand years of pain.

American Shari Cohen, the international development worker who very publicly came out against this costly World Cup before it began, ended up admitting: “To say that I have been blown away at the hospitality South Africa has shown the rest of the world would be an understatement.”

And on the subject of ubuntu, she said, in an open letter published on the Huffington Post website: “South Africans are drinking deeply from the cup of humanity that has been brought to their doorstep. I would never imagine that an American World Cup or Olympics would ever be this welcoming to the rest of the world. And that saddens me for the state of my home country, but it also makes me feel the pride of the South African people.

“I will be leaving a little piece of myself here in South Africa. I just hope I have learned enough to bring back a little piece of ubuntu to my homeland ...

“When I think of ubuntu and my recent experiences here, I think America has much to learn from Africa in general, in terms of living as a larger village; and as human beings who are all interconnected with each other, each of us having an effect on our brothers and sisters.”

A total over nearly 30 billion people have watched this World Cup. Did they feel ubuntu across the airwaves? What happened to all those predictions about crime and bloodbaths? Was that ubuntu at work?

Ultimately, though I love Wesley Sneijder and Arjen Robben and long for Robin van Persie to score, I don’t care that much about Holland winning. Given Paul the Octopus and his muscle-bound support for Spain, perhaps this whole World Cup was never really about who triumphs on the football field.

It matters not. There has been only one winner. Africa. Ubuntu.

The World Cup XI: Best and Worst of South Africa 2010

So here it is. The best World Cup XI. Not the first nor the last you will see as South Africa 2010 draws to a triumphant close. These are the men who, for me, have starred in their given positions during a pulsating tournament. I’ve gone for a 4-4-2 formation with obvious bias towards the sides that progressed furthest in the tournament.

Oh, and I’ve selected the worst player in each position too. Lots of Englishmen in that team.

The highly-regarded Castrol Index suggests the best defence should consist solely of Spain’s back four – they’ve certainly been tight – but that would be to ignore the Brazilian talents of Maicon and Lucio.

In the midfield, Castrol’s statistics point to Cristian Riveros of Paraguay and Sergio Busquets of Spain. But then what about Sergio’s excellent compatriot Andres Iniesta and Holland’s mighty Mark van Bommel? Where would the Dutch be without him?

Up front, they choose Uruguay’s Luiz “Hand of God” Suarez next to golden boot leader David Villa. But that would be to ignore his posturing after the Ghana travesty. Give me his team-mate Diego Forlan any day.

Castrol’s World Cup XI, scientifically selected, looks like this: Manuel Nueur (Germany), Sergio Ramos, Joan Capdevila, Gerard Pique, Carles Puyol (all Spain), Wesley Sneijder (Netherlands), Gilberto Silva (Brazil), Sergio Busquets (Spain), Cristian Riveros (Paraguay); Luis Suarez (Uruguay) and David Villa (Spain).

My definitive World Cup XI: Enyeama (Nigeria), Maicon (Brazil) Capdevila (Spain), Lucio (Brazil), Piquet (Spain); Iniesta (Spain), Van Bommel (Neth), Sneijder (Neth), Mueller (Germ); Forlan (Urg), Villa (Spain).
The worst? Green (England), Spector (US), Thwale (SA), Terry (Eng), Gallas (France), Ronaldo (Portugal), Lampard (England), Gattuso (Italy), Pienaar (SA), Rooney (Eng), Yakubu (Nigeria).

I’ve stuck with Capdevila, Pique, Sneijder and Villa. But the rest? No way. Where’s Thomas Mueller for a start... and only one Dutchman? This isn’t science, it’s sport. And my side would give Castrol’s lot a right tonking.

GOALKEEPER: Vincent Enyeama (Nigeria)

Three games, 270 minutes. Club: Hapoel Tel Aviv. Born: 29 August, 1982.

Iker Casillas may be the natural choice given Spain’s progress to a first ever World Cup final, but there was no better stopper on show in South Africa during the group stages. Enyeama single-handedly kept Lionel Messi and Argentina in check with a series of saves at Ellis Park and the Israel-based No1 is surely in line for a major move after the tournament. Already scrutinised by Arsenal’s Arsene Wenger, Enyeama was unable to lift Nigeria to the knock-out stages – but that’s hardly his fault. The same could be said of Ghana’s Richard Kingson.

Worst goalkeeper: England’s Robert Green. One game, one blunder. And that was it.

RIGHT BACK: Maicon (Brazil)

Five games, 450 minutes. Club: Inter Milan. Born: 25 July, 1981.

Maicon gets the nod at No2 ahead of German captain Phillip Lahm and Spain’s Sergio Ramos purely for his ability to change games as a wing-back. Not only did he score that brilliant narrow-angle goal against North Korea, he also managed six shots on target in his five games and he was effective as both defender and an extra attacker. One of three Inter Champions League winners in my selection – Barcelona also boast three.

Worst right back: Jonathan Spektor of the US. Plenty of chat, not much defending.

LEFT BACK: Joan Capdevila (Spain)

Six games, 540 minutes. Club: Villarreal. Born: 3 February, 1978.

Capdevila, a converted midfielder, was one of the mainstays of Spain’s Euro 2008 triumph and has been a revelation in South Africa. After that opening defeat against Switzerland, the Spanish back four have risen steadily in the scientific Castrol rankings but the big six-footer has made it this far without a single yellow card. While Sergio Ramos has also excelled down the right, Capedevila has barely put a foot wrong down the left. Dutch captain Gio van Bronckhorst is worth a mention at this stage. His superb semi-final goal will be long remembered. But it has to be Capdevila. Part of the Spanish silver-medal winning Olympic squad way back at Sydney 2000, a World Cup triumph at Soccer City would seal a phenomenal rise.

Worst left back: South Africa’s Lucas Thwale. Out-classed against Mexico and axed.

CENTRE BACK: Lucio (Brazil)

Five games, 450 minutes. Club: Inter Milan. Born: 8 May, 1978.

Sorry, I can’t go with the concept of all four Spaniards in my World XI defence. Lucio is simply magnificent. The way he dealt with Cristiano Ronaldo in the dull 0-0 draw between Portugal and Brazil when they met to decide Group G in Durban was quite magnificent. Lucio, with 96 international caps, also managed to avoid a singled yellow card in the tournament. Quite how 5ft 7in Wesley Sneijder managed to get in to head the decisive Dutch goal in the Port Elizabeth quarter-final we will never know. That blip apart, Lucio – with Juan so strong beside him for the Selecao - has proven at club and international level he is the best centre-back in the game. I’ve seen nothing to change that view. The 6ft 3in defender can play a bit too, as he proved with Jose Mourinho’s Champions League winning Inter outfit last season.

Worst centre back: England’s John Terry. Distracted, sluggish, awful.

CENTRE BACK: Gerard Piquet (Spain)

Six games, 540 minutes. Club: Barcelona. Born: 2 February, 1987.

Sir Alex Ferguson was the first to recognise Piquet’s considerable talents. At just 17, he was whisked away from the Barcelona academy to Old Trafford. He won the Premier League and Champions League with Manchester United but returned home to Barca in 2008. Since then, he has gone from strength to strength, a rock defensively and blessed with surprisingly quick feet for a 6ft 4in giant. And he’s still only 23. With the equally effective but less statuesque Carles Puyol beside him, history beckons.

Worst centre back: William Gallas. Like the rest of the French team, just didn’t look up for it.

MIDFIELD: Andres Iniesta (Spain)

Five games, 437 minutes. Club: Barcelona. Born: 11 May, 1984.

Has anybody got better feet at this tournament? Sure Lionel Messi goes on those mazy runs and Cristiano Ronaldo can throw a mean step-over but Iniesta carries more weight, rides more tackles. With just one goal so far, Soccer City on Sunday may provide the defining moment in his career. Iniesta is surrounded by considerable talent in Busquets, Xavi and Alonso, but for me he is the man to unlock defences; Vincente del Bosque’s side are too precise in their build-up, Iniesta is the only one prepared to take a risk. Keisuke Honda of Japan deserves a mention at this point. Great tournament. Sad to see them go out in a boring last 16 tie against Paraguay.

Worst midfielder: Cristiano Ronaldo. Probably the greatest disappointment of this World Cup.

MIDFIELD: Mark van Bommel (Netherlands)

Six games, 540 minutes. Club: Bayern Munich. Born: 22 April, 1977.

Forget your fancy-pants midfielders. Kaka really was kak for Brazil while Van Bommel made things tick for the Dutch. His physicality and hard work behind Wesley Sneijder has got tiny Holland to the final. In the 3-2 semi-final win over Uruguay, Van Bommel never stopped – he was still repelling Latin Americans after the final whistle with some gusto. So vital to the Oranje cause, he has 62 caps and 10 goals to his name despite a brief international retirement that saw him miss Euro 2008. Never a great fan of Marco van Basten, he thrives under Bert van Marwijk. Now for that World Cup winners’ medal.

Worst midfielder: Frank Lampard. So effective for Chelsea, so limp for England.

MIDFIELD: Wesley Sneijder (Netherlands)

Six games, 532 minutes. Club: Inter Milan. Born: 9 June, 1984.

What a tournament for the 5ft 7in Dutch dynamo. Five goals, including THAT header against Brazil, and four Man of the Match awards. His free-kicks may not be as effective with the ultra-light Jabulani ball but Sneijder appears capable of tearing any side apart right now. Rejected by Real Madrid last season and sold to Inter for half the price they paid Ajax, he went on to win the Champions League at the Bernabeu in May. Now he stands ready to embarrass the whole of Spain at Soccer City.

Worst midfielder: Italy’s Genarro Gattuso. Not the winner he was four years ago. Not by a long chalk.

MIDFIELD: Thomas Mueller (Germany)

Five games, 383 minutes. Club: Bayern Munich. Born: 13 September 1989.

Unquestionably the find of the tournament. Mueller is just 20 but his four goals in this tournament did so much to make a young German side thrive without injured captain Michael Ballack. Not many teams score four goals in a game three times in one World Cup. Mueller’s suspension for the semi-final against Spain was crucial to Germany’s failure to reach Soccer City. Mueller will be around for years to come. And as any England fan will tell you, he can destroy a nation at will. Just like that other Muller, Gerd.

Worst midfielder: Steve Pienaar. Everton’s player of the year failed to inspire South Africa.

STRIKER: Diego Forlan (Uruguay)

Six games, 564 minutes. Club: Atletico Madrid. Born: 19 May, 1979.

Nobody at this World Cup carried more on his shoulders than forlorn Forlan. He took 28 games and nearly eight months to score his first goal as a youngster at Manchester United. But since his move to La Liga he’s been scoring for fun. He got four here as he attempted to carry his side to the final on his own. While Brazil and Argentina sloped away, there was Diego, desperately trying to get the better of Holland with Luiz Suarez suspended after THAT handball against Ghana. Curiously Forlan was pulled off with ten minutes to go in that epic 3-2 semi-final defeat. Then we were told he’d played through injury. What a bloke.

Worst striker: England’s Wayne Rooney. Absolutely dreadful. The new Pele? Hah!

STRIKER: David Villa (Spain)

Six games, 529 minutes. Club: Barcelona. Born: 3 December, 1981.

Ghana’s heart-broken Asamoah Gyan deserves an honourable mention at this point, but it’s impossible to put him ahead of Villa, the man who spear-headed Spain’s progress to the semi-finals. With out-of-form Fernando Torres reduced to the role of on-looker, Villa came up with the vital quarter-final strike to defeat Paraguay. Curiously quiet in the semi-final win over Germany, Villa still looks favourite for the golden boot – before he starts his big new career with Barcelona next season.

Worst striker: Nigeria’s Yevgeny Yakubu. That miss against South Korea will never be forgotten.

Neal Collins is in South Africa to promote his book A GAME APART. For more details see www.nealcollins.co.uk.

World Cup 2010 Final Preview: Sneijder Makes Real Mockery Of Madrid... and whole of Spain could be next

Florentino Perez, you are in a Real mess. The big-spending Madrid president decided Wesley Sneijder wasn’t good enough for the Bernebeu last season, preferring to break the bank on Brazilian Kaka and Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo.

Did I say break the bank? Somehow, raiding the mysteriously bottomless vaults of Spanish football, Perez came up with a world record £56m for AC Milan’s Kaka. Then he broke that ceiling to make Ronaldo the world’s most expensive player for £80m.

Sneijder? He was sold to Jose Mourinho’s Inter Milan for £12m, around half what Real had paid Ajax for their little Dutch maestro in 2007.

Now 26, Sneijder returned to the Bernebeu in May to help Inter defeat Bayern Munich to lift the Champions League. Now the 5ft 7in pocket-sized giant has scored five goals – including a header – to take Holland to the brink of their first ever World Cup crown. And ironically it's Spain in the final.

Even before the big kick-off here, Ruud Gullitt went public, saying: “Perez made a big mistake. Wesley will be the star of the tournament, he has a brain."

Kaka? After spending much of last season nursing a groin injury at Real, he sloped off back to Brazil after being beaten by two Sneijder goals (officially, the first was not a Melo own goal) in an epic 2-1 quarter-final win for the Oranjes in Port Elizabeth last Friday.

Ronaldo? He had the whole of South Africa begging for a glimpse of his talents, but let the Rainbow Nation’s lost tribe of Portugeezers weeping with a series of listless displays for his nation as they wimped out against Spain in the last 16.

Who can forget that magic moment in Port Elizabeth when Sneijder snuck in to head the winner? Normally a free-kick specialist, he gleefully patted his rarely used forehead and said afterwards: “Some think, because of the Dutch stereotype, that we’re lightweight and flighty. Well, we’re not. We may be small, but we have heart. So much heart …”

Then came Sneijder’s goal and assist in the 3-2 semi-final win over Uruguay on Tuesday. Normally, Perez would be putting out a message to his agents: Get me the best man from this World Cup. Don’t worry about the price. This time he must be mortally embarrassed.

Instead it is Manchester United who are sniffing around. Inter Milan president Massimo Moratti admits rumours of a £25m bid may have some basis. But Sneijder is under contract until 2013 and Moratti said: “I believe that it's true United want our man, but I don't want to ask for too much so as not to fall into temptation. I am enjoying watching Sneijder at the World Cup and I will enjoy watching him at Inter next year too. "

Sneijder's agent, Soren Lerby, sniffs: "Wesley could stay until 2015. After the World Cup we will go to Milan and sit around a table with the directors."

And so a star is reborn. Wesley Benjamin Sneijder started life in Utrecht on June 9, 1984. In 2004, he was picked out by a certain Johann Cruyff as Holland’s top youngster a year after making his debut in orange as he emerged from the fabled Ajax academy.

It’s not as if he was the first of his family to make it. Older brother Jeffrey also came through Ajax and played for Stormvogels Telstar. His younger brother Rodney is honing his skills in Amsterdam as I write.

Real’s £24m move in 2007 made Sneijder Holland’s second most expensive player. Fellow Dutchmen Royston Drenthe and later Arjen Robben also arrived – but Wesley was given David Beckham’s No23 jersey.

On his La Liga debut, he scored the winner in the Madrid derby against Atlético. He scored twice in his second game, against Villareal. He went on to score nine goals in his first Madrid winter... and Real won the title.

Then came a knee ligament injury... Barcelona’s revival... and the return of Galactico-hunter Perez. And on 27 August 2009, he made that half-price move to Internazionale, promptly starring on his debut in a 4-0 win over AC Milan at the San Siro. The rest – apart from announcing his engagement to Dutch actress and television presenter Yolanthe Cabau van Kasbergen last December - is history.

Another great chapter of history lies ahead with Spain and the Netherlands both hoping for a first global triumph at Soccer City on Sunday. Sneijder said after helping to snuff out Uruguay: "This is unforgettable. It was a tough fight and towards the end we complicated matters. Sunday, we play in the World Cup final. I have to get used to that."

Neal Collins is in South Africa to witness the greatest World Cup of all and promote his first novel, A GAME APART, which predicts so much of what has happened at South Africa 2010. For more information see www.nealcollins.co.uk.

Careless defending, Carles scores: Spain 1 Germany 0 and we're in for a first-time World Cup winner on Sunday

In the end, amid all the hair gel, the untidy locks of Carles Puyol decided things at the Moses Mabhida Stadium. But mark my words, this was a bad result for this World Cup. Spain survive by strangling the life out of their opponents. Germany would have been far worthier final opponents.

While the sleek thoroughbreds knocked the ball backwards and forwards, it was left to the long-haired lover from Le Poblo de Segur to give Spain the 73^rd-minute edge over Germany in a dreadfully tight World Cup semi-final.

He’s only 5ft 10in, but Carles loves careless marking in the opposition penalty area. After endless pontificating in Durban, it took a decisive head to put the European Champions through to their first ever World Cup final against the Netherlands at Soccer City on Sunday.

Without Thomas Mueller, Germany simply didn’t look capable of breaking down the well-organised (and dare I say boring) Spaniards. One Lucas Podolski chance, well saved by Iker Casillas in the 68^th minute, was all they had to offer in a game dominated by the luvvies from La Liga.

Spain should have won it comfortably. Shot after shot flew wide as La Rojas painstakingly pulled the young Germans apart. And whatever happens now, we will have brand new World Cup winners – neither the Dutch nor the Spanish have ever lifted the Jules Rimet trophy before.

In fact, Spain had never got beyond five quarter-finals before this crusade, which started with the curious blip against lowly Switzerland nearly a month ago.

Puyol, who moved from his village club to Barcelona in 1997, had won 89 caps and scored just three goals before last night’s effort. In 331 games for his beloved Barca he has managed just six goals.

But statistics mean nothing when there’s a World Cup to be won, history to be made.

The man who started his footballing career as a goalkeeper was a striker when he came to Barcelona. He got his big chance under Louis van Gaal as a right back but by 2005 he was voted best centre-back in Europe.

By then he had spent five years playing internationally for La Rojas and, with Barca team-mate Gerard Pique, he has made this Spanish side difficult to break down.

Up front, David Villa – ear-marked for the golden boot with five goals so far – was so quiet, boss Vincente Del Bosque turned to the out-of-form Fernando Torres in an attempt to open things up. But he always had Puyol. The poodle among the greyhounds, he ended German dreams.

Now we can sit back and prepare to witness the first European win on a foreign continent in the history of the World Cup.

Curiously, an octopus called Paul has been predicting these things in his aquarium throughout the tournament. Germany certainly ran out of legs in Durban. I’ll put five squid on Holland to win the final though.

Neal Collins is in South Africa to witness the greatest World Cup of all and promote his first novel, A GAME APART, which predicts so much of what has happened at South Africa 2010. For more information see www.nealcollins.co.uk.

The World Cup's TEN great miracles: from affable Afrikaners to triumphant trumpets

Africa’s first World Cup is coming to a glorious climax. We have seen so much to wonder at, we have seen so many problems surmounted, so many great goals, so much scintillating football, so many poor refereeing decisions, so many dreams shattered.

The World Cup that was supposed to collapse in chaos has risen above the carping doom-sayers. As I have said from the start, it could turn out to be the best yet. Every night for a month, the eyes of the world have been upon the Rainbow Nation. And I have yet to meet an unhappy travelling fan... Algerian, America, English, Italian, Slovenian, Brazilian. Believe me, I have spoken to footballing pilgrims from around the world.

Okay, the pitch at Port Elizabeth wasn’t perfect. Some of the park-and-ride facilities have required a stiff hike after the whistle. Polokwane and Nelspruit, just two of the wonderful new stadiums on offer, may never see the like again.

And Sepp Blatter is still a dictator with one eye firmly on the profit margins.

But now I think we must address the truly miraculous elements of South Africa 2010. The unexpected realities that must be examined before 22 gladiators meet for their life-or-death struggle at Soccer City on Sunday. As the Romans might have said: Incredibili (that’s unbelievable in Latin).

1 Affable Afrikaners

Not known for their love of footballers (or anyone else for that matter) the lost white tribe of Africa take No1 spot purely for their stoicism. Having had their rugby ground in Pretoria stolen by the World Cup (their beloved Blue Bulls had to play the Super 15 final in Soweto just before the big kick-off) our bearded friends (men and women) have somehow taken this whole African festival of footie on the chin. Having just read a particularly nasty little fascist newspaper called “The Afrikaner”, which offers only the prospect of post-Apartheid apocalypse, I swear this is true: When Paraguay bored the pants off Japan at Loftus Versfeld last week, a family of Afrikaners were attempting to master the Vuvuzela in front of me. The mum just couldn’t get it right. She sounded like a chronic case of flatulence. So the black couple next to them offered help. And the black kids further along. By the end of the game they were taking pictures of each other in warm embrace. The mum told me afterwards: “That was such fun. I’ve never really been to a social event with blecks.” And that was just one incident among dozens. Onbewaarbaar (that’s unbelievable in Afrikaans).

2 Jabulani joy

After a month of being told how the new adidas ball is far too light and impossible to control, we finally get to Cape Town and the Holland v Uruguay semi-final. By this time, only two Japanese free-kicks in the space of five minutes against Denmark had really shown any great potential. Then Gio van Bronkhorst, the Dutch captain who is nearly as old as Jan van Riebeeck, hits one from about thirty yards. If the net hadn’t been there to stop it, the superlight Jabulani may have ended up happily on Robben Island. An absolute scorcher. Later we had Diego Forlan hitting one which bent all over the place. How Gavin Cowley, the adidas spokesman behind the Jabulani, must have smiled. Nothing wrong with this ball. Just took a bit of getting used to. And consider the profit it has made around the globe after all those headlines. Unglaublich (that’s unbelievable in German).

3 Fantastic fanatics

I’ve mentioned before the incredible scenes when the US pipped Algeria with a last-minute Landon Donovan goal to top Group C. The Yanks couldn’t believe their luck. Mad celebration which culiminated in the striker from Hull Jozy Altidor going over the fence to clasp the Stars and Stripes. Right in front of the massed ranks of Algerians, north African Muslims to a man (and woman). Did they react? Barely a whisper. They smiled and clapped as their American rivals, not all that popular in the Muslim world, enjoyed their moment. Had Jozy celebrated like that at the New Den, Millwall fans may have offered a few oaths. Even the odd oaf. But Pretoria remained peaceful. Scenes like that have been replayed all over South Africa; Uruguayan joy, African misery; German jubilation, English desolation; Dutch delight, Brazilian disbelief. And not a fight in sight. Increíble (that’s unbelievable in Spanish).

4 Mandela magic

The father of this Rainbow Nation has not been well enough to play a public role in proceedings. On the day the tournament kicked-off his great-grand-daughter died in a car accident on the way home from the opening concert. But still Nelson Mandela’s magic pervades this World Cup, our world. Time after time, the name of Madiba crops up to unify the people, to make them proud, to provide a reference point. He may not even be aware of it. Long before this tournament began, I was told FIFA had a contingency plan in place should his incredible life come to an end. But somehow he has endured. And you know he’s loving every minute with this once-divided nation on show to billions around the planet. Long may it continue. Ngakholeki(yo) (that’s unbelievable in Xhosa).

5 Maradona manners

Dodgy Diego was doing so well. His Argentina side appeared ready to go all the way. Loving it in the spotlight, he told us: “You said I couldn’t coach, but we are winning.” And they were, in style, despite those curious coaching sessions with Argies pelting the Jabulani at each other’s exposed bottoms at the Pretoria University High Performance Centre. King Diego sat astride his mighty throne (the specially imported R45,000 bidet-toilets he had demanded for his room) and waved to the crowds so much he might have injured his wrist. And then Germany came along and put four past them in the quarter-finals. Smaller men might have been rude to the media, bitten their dog, turned to illicit substances or taken a shot at a reporter. But Diego held it together: “I'm as disappointed as all Argentines. To see my country lose a football match is very hard for someone who has worn the shirt.” Unfasslick (that’s also German for unbelievable).

6 Richie Rich

Rich Mkhondo was the sacrificial lamb put in charge of communications by FIFA before this World Cup began. Despite nearly 50 years as an author and journalist, Rich told me back in Janauary during the cricket tour that he knew exactly how tough his task was going to be. Sepp Blatter’s bunch have never been the most popular people and here he was, the kid from Katlehong, supposed to defend them to the hilt. But as the stories of bloodbaths, gangs, crime and deadly snakes ripped into his nation from around the world did Richie howl “unfair” and banish all foreign journalists? Never! When the nation cried foul as FIFA got it wrong time and again, did our Richie look disheartened? Never! And here we are, close to the finish line. And the bloke I remember so well from Rhodes University and the Rand Daily Mail all those years ago is able to tell us this World Cup has been a roaring success. This week, the predicted influx of rand-rich fans is headed towards the half-a-million mark. Mighty Mkhondo assured us: "We are confident that we will surpass the number of 450 000 that we initially predicted. And there’s still a few days to go.” Nswempu (that’s Zulu for unbelievable).

7 Dutch delight

I said before this tournament began that Holland, with Europe’s two best players (Inter Milan’s Wesley Sneijder and Bayern Munich’s Arjen Robben, they met at the Champions League final) were the best outside bet at 12-1 with Paddy Power. Now unbeaten in a record 25 games and currently on a streak of 10 successive wins, the lurid orange glow has lit up this tournament. They’ve never won it before, and my Olympic experiences at Sydney and Athens suggest they will travel in great numbers, despite a lack of available flights. The final looms and Arsenal’s lethal Robin Van Persie is just starting to turn it on after injury. In a country settled by Dutch pioneer Jan van Riebeeck and still inhabited by over ten million who speak a form of their language, the whole thing is, well... ongelofelijk (that’s Dutch for unbelievable).

8 Trumpet triumphant

The much-derided Vuvuzela was supposed to ruin this World Cup. Critics with ear-plugs from around the world lined up to call for a blanket ban. Or just a blanket. But the sound of South Africa 2010 refused to go away. Then the Vuvuzela turned up at a baseball game in Florida. And at the European Formula One Grand Prix in Valencia. It was banned from the Pamplona bull run in Spain but emerged unscathed to become a specialised button on the website YouTube. Push it, and you get a belligerent blast. Now it is selling out around the world. A simple plastic horn designed only to enhance the atmosphere at poorly attended local football games. Paaaaaarp (that’s Vuvuzela for unbelievable).

9 Superstars splattered

Wayne Rooney. Cristiano Ronaldo. The appropriately named Kaka. Thierry Henry and Nicolas Anelka. The holders Italy. Ah, how the mighty have fallen, as they so often do in African skirmishes. Just google Isandlwana (1979 was another bad year for England). Who could have predicted they would all be at home, licking their wounds and watching the final on television? This is just what football needed: a slap in the face for the overpaid superstars of football. Leave it instead to tiny Holland to carry the banner. Or the young, unfancied Germans. And let the glory belong to Ghana, who were denied an historic place in the last four only by the hand of Luis Suarez. In the end, all three “Hand of God” exponents were laid low. Suarez, Maradona... and Henry. Dochreidte (that’s unbelievable in Irish).

10 SuperSport sizzles

Thomas Mlambo is South Africa’s real World Cup winner. Watched by a huge domestic audience as the SABC struggles, SuperSport presenter Thomas Sipho Mlambo started out as an in-store announcer for a local shopping chain in Johannesburg. Now he’s the authentic voice of African football. Dealing with anything from the age-wearied cynicism of Terry “It wasn’t a great game” Paine, the sharp insights of John “I can also do rap” Barnes and a host of guests from all over the globe, “Big Brother” never stops smiling. A former Wits footballer before his knees packed up, tee-total Mlambo wants to get married, own a Maserati and settle down. Or so he says. As long as he doesn’t stop talking football. They said South Africa couldn’t cover a World Cup properly, let alone host the event. As Thomas says so often through that glittering smile... unbelieeeeeevable (that’s SuperSport for unbelievable).

Bottoms up for Robben and the Dutch as Arjen insists: I won't allow us to lose the World Cup final

Aarjen Robben won’t let Holland lose the World Cup final. It’s as simple as that. Caught with his trousers down (see great Getty Images picture) after an epic 3-2 semi-final win over Uruguay in Cape Town last night, Robben has no intention of dropping his guard in the final at Soccer City on Sunday.

Haunted by memories of their two successive World Cup final defeats at Germany 74 and Argentina 78, losing is simply not an option for Robben, who was unable to prevent Bayern Munich going down to Inter Milan in the Champions League showdown seven weeks ago.

Robben, who scored a glorious header to seal last night’s epic semi, said: “This Dutch team is simply a great squad. We had a good look at each other before the game... and I was convinced we'd win.

"We’re nearly there. We need only one more victory now. I’ve already lost a big final with Bayern and I won't let that happen again.

"If Germany turn out to be our next opponent, I'll be even more motivated. I can't afford to lose against Germany, because my team-mates at Bayern will make fun of me all season."

Cape Town’s Green Point Stadium was awash with Orange by the time Robben scored the third goal, his second of the tournament after his late arrival with a hamstring injury. By then Wesley Sneijder and captain Gio van Bronkhorst had already given the Dutch a slender 2-1 advantage after Diego Forlan’s equaliser.

Uruguay pulled back a late goal but by then forlorn Forlan had been recklessly substituted and Uruguay had given up the fight.

Two of the smallest nations in the world – Holland are ranked 134^th in the world on land mass while Uruguay are 90^th – contrived to produce a fitting showdown in Cape Town, the city established by Dutchman Jan van Riebeeck in 1652.

South Africa, boasting over ten million people who still speak Afrikaans or “kitchen Dutch”, were unanimously behind the Oranjes after Uruguay’s cynical efforts had deprived both Bafana Bafana and BaGhana BaGhana of an African representative at this glorious tournament.

The last surviving Latin American nation were at it again last night, diving about, falling over, generally making a nuisance of themselves. But credit to Uruguay, who only qualified for this tournament on a play-off against Costa Rica after finishing fifth in the CONMEBOL qualifying group, they gave it a good shot.

With big guns Brazil and Argentina out, they fought hard to end the Dutch record of 25 successive unbeaten outings. But as I said two months ago, this Dutch side – with Sneijder and Robben the form players in Europe last season – were always a good outside bet at 12-1.

Cape Town, treated to awful 0-0 draws between Uruguay and France followed by England and Algeria early in the tournament, can now boast the highest-scoring venue of this World Cup. And the men in orange, unbeaten in qualifying, have now set a new record of 14 games without defeat in a single tournament, not to mention ten wins on the trot.

Unheralded coach Bert van Marwijk said: “Unbelievable. When I took this job two years ago, I said to the players, “we're on a mission, and we just have to believe in ourselves”. We're only a small country but we're through to the final again after 32 years, that's just unbelievable.”

And perhaps most telling of all, with Brazil lying in their wake and Germany or Spain to come, he added: “I love beautiful football, but I also want to win.”

Uruguay coach Oscar Tabarez sighed: “It was the right result and it was a match worthy of the World Cup semi-finals. I'm proud of my players. We're disappointed, but we've shown everyone who wrote us off beforehand that we're not very far off the top.

“We gave it our best shot, but it wasn’t quite enough.”

Neal Collins is in South Africa to promote his book A GAME APART. For more details see www.nealcollins.co.uk.