At 16.42 BST, the vuvuzelas momentarily fell silent as Barcelona’s Rafael Marquez profited from lame defending to deny the hosts an opening day victory at Soccer City, Johannesburg. It was no more than Mexico deserved.
My day had begun on departure from work at 0630, a damp Old Kent Road seemingly a million miles from the excitement already being portrayed by Five Live. The interviews from Soweto were being played out to a background of the vuvuzela. The radio was also reporting the tragic news that overnight the 13 year-old great-granddaughter of Nelson Mandela had been killed in a car crash following the World Cup concert the previous evening. Mr Mandela was due to attend the opening but withdrew following the tragedy.
The opening ceremony was awash with colour, sound and the sight of Archbishop Desmond Tutu bouncing off the walls. South African President Jacob Zuma and Sepp Blatter welcomed the world to the Rainbow Nation before the real business of winning football matches began.
Mexico were in no mood to be charitable guests at the party and dominated the first half. Geovani Dos Santos caught the eye, just as he had a Wembley a month ago, and the South African keeper Itumeleng Khune was forced into a couple of smart saves to preserve parity at half time.
Khune was saved from embarrassment by the vigilant Uzbekistan officials following a dreadful misjudgement of a corner from Geovani. Luckily for the keeper, his momentum took him beyond Carlos Vela who steered the ball past the lone defender on the line only to see the goal ruled out for offside. The Uzbeki officials might have been a strange choice for the opening fixture but they had very good games.
A late first half flurry from the home side further raised the noise levels but this was a mere whimper in comparison to the cacophony that greeted the first goal of the 2010 World Cup. Siphiwe Tshabalala, of the Kaiser Chiefs, sent a screamer past the Mexican keeper into the top corner from 20 yards and the roof is lifted on Soccer City.
I’m now obsessed with the vuvuzelas! The incessant buzz that accompanies the commentary is almost totally to the exclusion of any vocal encouragement. There are no songs or chants to be heard against the backdrop of the din. It’s almost as if you either blow the horn or keep quiet.
The outpouring of emotion was to last 25 minutes before the horns are silenced. Pompey captain Aaron Mokoena failed to head away a cross and the furthest of three Mexicans is Marquez who lashes past Khune. It was sad for the hosts, but Mexico were certainly deserving of their equaliser.
There was one last twist that could have opened the party for an all-nighter when Katlego Mphela hit a post in the final minute. The party probably went on through the night anyway. The World Cup is off and running and has made a great start.
Cape Town played host to the second game of the tournament pitting France against Uruguay, two nations that had made the finals via play-offs and, for the French, controversy as Thierry Henry’s hand ball had led to the elimination of the Republic of Ireland. News of disharmony in the French ranks had been rife in the build-up to the game and Henry was only named as a substitute.
Work meant that I could only watch the first 30 minutes, listen to the next 50 on the radio and follow the remaining time on the internet. How lucky I appear to have been, as a dull goalless draw was nothing to blow your vuvuzela at and ensured that Group A finished the opening day with all four nations on one point.
Tomorrow is England, bring on the band.
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