On key day for South Africa, World Cup failure

PRETORIA, South Africa - Join the voice behind Bafana Bafana.

These are the life-size words posted throughout Johannesburg, the billboards as frequent as mile markers, displayed on side roads such as Rivonia and highways such as the N1.

And so, on a chilly Wednesday evening, joining the voice in its quest against Uruguay seemed right, even natural. An opening-game tie with Mexico had offered South Africa continued hope, had offered the host nation a second chance for victory and, with that victory, a likely pass out of group play and into the knockout stages.

After two weeks in this euphoric country - drunk on the world's attention and a surprisingly competitive national side - it was impossible not to hope, privately at least, that Bafana Bafana would reward their country's enthusiasm and keep it partying just a little while longer. Anything less would be like attending a wedding and rooting for the bride to fall.

Bafana Bafana (which means "the Boys") fell anyway, despite a million voices behind them. And the loss wasn't just a loss; it was a country-wide kick in the gut. It was a 3-0 embarrassment at the feet of a so-so Uruguay side. The result seemed unfair in the way life can be unfair: Where was the cosmic force that had pooled itself for each previous World Cup, the magic carpet ride that allowed every host nation to advance out of its group and into the knockout stages?

Why not Bafana Bafana?

Maybe it was this frustration that drove thousands to leave the stadium early, streaming to the exits exactly 10 minutes before the referee's final whistle. Or maybe it was disinterest now that the magical aura - South Africa had been unbeaten in its previous 13 matches - had been revealed merely as a stretch of good luck.

At this precise moment in history, South Africa was - and still is, there's at least one more match - impossible to root against. The dichotomy here is startling, and it's everywhere: white and black, rich and poor, power without numbers, modern next to out-of-date.

Bafana Bafana occupy ground devoid of such a tug-of-war: No yellow is too bright, no green too lime, no flag too big, no wig too colorful, no outfit too silly. A few weeks in Johannesburg and you begin hoping Bafana Bafana never stop playing, for nothing else could be so easy to agree upon.

Two hours before Wednesday's kickoff, the roads from Johannesburg to Pretoria - a distance of about 35 miles - were surprisingly empty. The migration north had happened much earlier. What was a mere two hours before kickoff? That left too little time for pregame celebration, for absorbing the World Cup atmosphere.

Losing didn't seem part of fate's plan.

Wednesday's match included a seemingly momentous collision of symbolism. In South Africa, June 16 is Youth Day, commemorating the start of the Soweto uprising of 1976, which grew from antiapartheid protests. Loftus Versfeld Stadium, where Wednesday's match was played, is the home field for the Blue Bulls, a legendary professional rugby team more popularly known by its Afrikaans name, die Blou Bulle.

But here came "the Boys" - all black save one lanky, seldom-used defender - running onto that very same grass, a chance for World Cup glory in front of them, and a nation behind them.

A year ago, tickets for a Bafana Bafana game were as abundant as air: If you got yourself to the stadium, the supply was endless.

On Wednesday, tickets were printed on gold.

In the flow of fans walking toward the stadium, one young man, on his knees, held a handwritten sign: "I need ticket." He appeared like a rock in a yellow-and-gold stream, people spilling past on each side, reconnecting on the other.

He was not selling tickets, as most holding such a sign are. He was begging for one of his own.