A day of emotions

(Originally published June 19 on freep.com)

JOHANNESBURG, South Africa -- In just one day at the World Cup, your emotions can swing like a pendulum.

On Thursday night, we arrived back in Johannesburg. We didn’t want to leave Cape Town. It was an oasis; a beautiful, friendly city that’s so compact and easy to get around. Great restaurants on every corner, unique shops, a stunning waterfront -- it felt like we were in Europe or San Francisco.

Johannesburg is huge, a bit scary and tough to get around. It seems like we are on the bus forever whenever we head anywhere. So, we were already disappointed to be heading back across the country.

On Friday, we headed off to Ellis Park, the famous rugby stadium where South Africa won the 1995 World Cup. (It’s featured in the movie “Invictus.”)

The area around the stadium was as depressed an urban environment as you will ever see. Imagine the worst areas of Detroit, but crowded with people. Skinny, hungry day laborers waiting along the side of the road looking for any sort of the work.

The closer we got the stadium, people were selling anything -- anything. Used gloves, old fruit, counterfeit soccer merchandise. Our local bus drivers couldn’t find us an official lot. So, we parked along a street and marched six blocks through the poverty toward the stadium. Still, we were greeted mostly with smiles and an occasional U-S-A chant. A few members of our group from Columbus, Ohio, stopped to get a picture with a local boy wearing a beat up Ohio State sweatshirt. But the degree of poverty was overwhelming and depressing. We were so close to the stadium, but the World Cup seemed so far away.

We turned toward Ellis Park, walking under a bridge where a few unfortunate souls were living, and ran straight into a shiny new McDonald’s. Surrounded by a high security fence, it was sparkling. We stopped there to grab a quick bite, figuring it was slightly better than stadium food.

At the McDonald’s, a South African TV crew was interviewing Americans. We were wearing our jerseys with HONEYMOON on the back, so they grabbed us for a few quick sound bites.

Once inside Ellis Park, we met up with a few friends from Virginia for beers. The sun was out. In fact, when we left our hotel, it was only 35 degrees. Now, it must have been 60. All seemed right with the world. Again, there were Americans everywhere --- and a few folks here and there from Slovenia.

If you are reading this blog, we’re going to assume you watch the game or at least know what happened.

Our emotions went something like this:

NERVOUS OPTIMISM: At kickoff, we knew a win would put us in great position.

DÉJÀ VU: Another early goal, puts us behind.

HORROR! Two goals down!

DESPAIR: At halftime, our vacation still had six days to go, but it seemed like our World Cup was over.

HOPE: Landon Donovan’s early goal put us back into the game.

TENSION: Will we get the second goal? We keep carving out chances, but time is ticketing away.

GOOOOOOAAAAL! Michael Bradley ties the game!

NO GOAL!!! After a moment of pure joy, we learn that Maurice Edu’s would-be winning goal is disallowed.

RELIEF: The game is over, but our World Cup is not. Our team is still alive.

After the game, it was dark, but we had to trek back through the streets around Ellis. The faces greeting us seemed less friendly. But our group stuck together and safely made our way back to our buses.

Later that night, we watched England-Algeria at an Irish pub near our hotel. A group of eight of us ate (and drank) for under $100. The game finished 0-0, putting the USA into second place in our group.

All we need to do now is beat Algeria. It’s going to be a long wait until Wednesday.

Ups and downs in South Africa

CAPE TOWN, South Africa -- It would be tough to describe how fantastic a time we’ve had in Cape Town. Our bed and breakfast is beyond incredible. It might be the best service we’ve ever had at any hotel. And we have traveled a lot.

The last two days, we’ve had a private guide drive us on tours area around Cape Town. First, we journeyed through the wine lands, sampling different local vintages. Today, we drove down to Cape Point, stopping to see penguins, ostriches and baboons.

Thursday, we return to Johannesburg. We'd much rather stay here. We’ve fallen in love with Cape Town, a city that reminds us of San Francisco.

But our team plays Friday in Ellis Park, the historic rugby stadium featured in the movie “Invictus.” We are playing little Slovenia, the team that currently leads our group. A win puts us in a fantastic position to advance. A loss … well, let’s not think about that.

In both Cape Town and Johannesburg, it’s sometimes tough to remember you are in Africa. Both cities differ so little from metro areas in the U.S. Everyone speaks English. McDonald’s is everywhere. The roads are better than in Michigan. No joke.

At the edge of your vision, you sometimes catch glimpses of the another Africa: the intense poverty in the shanty villages, the strikes by security workers at stadiums, the veiled racism that still lingers.

Again, we know we've been a bit lax in writing. Time has been a big factor. The thing about the World Cup is you're constantly moving. Whether it's going to games or finding somewhere to watch games, soccer is always on the brain. And being American soccer fans traveling through South Africa, we are a bit of a novelty, and people stop to talk to us. Plus, with U.S.-England one day in Rustenberg (two hours outside of Joburg) and Serbia-Ghana the next day in Pretoria (two hours from where we were staying), it leaves precious time to sleep.

We also had an unexpected change of lodging plans. We have been reticent to mention because we didn’t want to worry everyone back home, but our tour didn’t turn out as planned. And we knew this immediately after landing.

We are still sorting out what happened, but it seems our little tour group of 20 people was caught in one of the many scams by people and companies promising goods and services and not delivering.

While we were in the air, our tour provider had to scramble to find us lodging after what we were promised never materialized.

The bottom line is we are safe and being taken care of. But it was not entirely what we signed up for. We were moved an hour outside of Joburg to lodges on a quaint game farm. We are told there are giraffes nearby, but we only saw a few springboks and rabbits.

We were in a two-bedroom chalet on the property, sharing it with a friend who came with us. We use the term "chalet" loosely. It’s a quaint, freestanding house but it doesn’t have a TV or heat, just a space heater. And it gets cool at night.

Granted, our breakfasts were amazing; fresh milk, homemade jelly, ostrich eggs and some yummy type of pork make for a filling breakfast. But lunch had been whatever we can buy at Shell stations along the routes to soccer matches. Dinner usually was a hot dog or lamb dog at the stadium. (We've since eaten so much better in Cape Town.)

To a certain extent, we’ve lucky, we guess. The proprietor said the day we arrived, she got a call from a group of 50 Americans who also were scammed and needed quick lodging.

We left for Cape Town on Monday morning, not knowing whether we would return to the ranch, return to the company at a another location or pursue other lodging options on our own.

Since arriving to Cape Town, our luck has turned a corner. We scheduled our time here independent of our original tour group, and it has proved a wise decision. Our guest house is magnificent: an old house built in 1905 that sits at the base of Table Mountain. Our room is spacious and romantic. And when we called and explained that our friend Jon would be joining us (we couldn’t bear to leave him behind in uncertain circumstances), they quickly readied a cottage on the property for him. It was a far better than the rustic “chalet” offered back at the farm.

We’re sorry that we haven’t posted as often as we hoped. Connectivity has been a real challenge in South Africa. Even in our Cape Town hotel, the Wi-Fi signal comes and goes like the rain. “Typical South Africa,” we are often told.

This guest home was a wise choice. They are making life stress-free. They had champagne chilled in our room upon arrival to celebrate our honeymoon. People can surprise you.

Monday was spent walking around the city and getting acquainted with the area. Dinner was at lovely local restaurant, our first meal at an actual restaurant. Then Robert went with our friend Jon to the 1-1 tie between Italy and Paraguay at Green Point Stadium while Amy returned to the guest house for some much-needed R&R.

Now our tour provider has secured us an actual hotel for our return Thursday to Johannesburg. We are told by others on our tour that it’s nice. And an important game awaits for the Americans. Still, we have fallen in love with Cape Town. It will be so difficult to leave.

A win everywhere but on the scoreboard

(Originally published June 12 on freep.com)

Somewhere near RUSTENBERG, South Africa -- A tie is always a win for someone.

This may the hardest thing for Americans to get about soccer -- that a draw (as ties are often called) can matter so much.

As we rode in a bus crawling through traffic back to Johannesburg, we found ourselves wondering if Americans back home are as excited as the thousands of USA fans like us who watched the game live in Rustenberg.

There aren't many wins in my history as a sports fan that have excited us as much as today's draw in the USA vs. England match.

It's been a long day. Rustenberg is in the middle of nowhere. The ride is along a pleasant road through rolling hills that was never meant to handle the traffic load of a World Cup match.

So, our bus left at 11 a.m. for a city that should be about 2.5 hours away. Kickoff is at 8:30 p.m.

It's slow going, but Amy was strangely excited when we stopped for gas to find that Tab, the soft drink, was on sale here.

We arrived around 4:30. The stadium itself is surrounded by a village. The parking shuttles dropped us off just at the edge of the town and we had to wander through its neighborhoods to get to the stadium entrance. Many of the locals sat in their yards, observing the parade of American and English fans marching by. Many smiled or wished us luck.

The stadium didn't open its doors for another hour, but hundreds of fans gathered in the nearby streets, flooding two local bars. One of the establishments had an outdoor urinal trough, where men could relieve themselves with their backs clearly visible from the street.

We looked at souvenir stands and picked up some ear plugs. One of our guides had warned us that the omnipresent South African horns, the vuvuzela, could overpower our ears.

There was some polite jawing between U.S. and English fans, but nothing serious.

Fans had already formed a huge line as the doors opened. We squeezed into the stadium. It was already noisy with the barking horns. Fans of England sang "God Save the Queen." Chants of "U-S-A, U-S-A" sprang up here and there, but we weren't too outnumbered by the English. U.S. flags were everywhere. The sun was setting quickly and the temperature dropped.

For refreshments we endured another crushing line -- this one clogged up by English fans who had somehow built themselves a giant beer bong -- Amy came away with lamb dogs for us to chow on as we waited for the game.

As the game started, the Americans were almost as loud as the English (although I think they had more of those horns on their side). Nearly everyone in the stadium stood for the entire match.

U.S. fans deflated when, for the second straight World Cup, they gave up an early goal right away.

The only consolation: The two big scoreboards in the stadium weren't working, so the score wasn't looming over us. I used the stopwatch on my phone to keep track of how game time elapsed.

The crowd exploded when American Clint Dempsey scored on a lucky goal that bounced off England's keeper, Robert Green. Beer flew in the air, spraying down on us.

As the game wore on and England pressed for a winning goal, both sides quieted, almost holding their breath.

In the end, it was the Americans who exhaled, cheering wildly -- knowing that despite the score, they were the day's winners.

The U.S. players marched over to us and cheered their fans. Both the team and their supporters came a long way today.

Why love (and hate) England

(Originally published June 10 on freep.com)

Like all American soccer fans, we have mixed feelings about that little isle across the water. We know all of their players from following the Premier League, and we’ve traveled across the pond three times to watch matches. Still, they are like our big, annoying brother, always acting superior. “Awww, look at those cute American football fans. It’s funny that they think they know something about OUR sport.”

Sure, we beat them during that crazy World Cup game in 1950, but usually, they just stomp us.

So when the two teams meet Saturday, nothing would make U.S. soccer fans happier than showing big brother that we do know something about their football.

Why we love England!

• ENGLISH BREAKFAST: Who doesn’t love some bangers and mash?!?

• DAVID BECKHAM: Amy loves him so much that she buys Robert cologne so he’ll smell like the English superstar.

• CRAVEN COTTAGE: This quaint soccer stadium that sits on the Thames in southwest London has always welcomed us. Plus, it’s home to our favorite club team: Fulham. (There’s even a cute cottage in one corner!)

• THE PREMIER LEAGUE: Almost every game in the world’s most interesting league is broadcast live to our TV every Saturday morning. (Just in time for our English breakfast.)

• BIG BEN, PARLIAMENT: Ask Chevy Chase.

Why we hate England!

• THE SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT: Just because they invented the sport doesn’t mean they own it. They’ve only won a single World Cup yet are always SHOCKED when they don’t lift the trophy.

• THAT ENGLISH DUDE: On a train to Nuremberg during the 2006 World Cup, this Brit made fun of us because we -- gasp -- called a soccer goalkeeper a GOALIE!

• RAIN: England’s a great place to visit -- if you bring an umbrella and galoshes.

• HOOLIGANISM: In Germany, the only fight we saw was English fans beating on EACH OTHER!

• WAYNE ROONEY: Sure, the English striker’s good, but he’s got the mouth of a sailor and the looks of a small, yapping dog.

Next stop: South Africa

(Originally published June 10 on freep.com)

Newly married Free Press staffers Robert and Amy Huschka are blogging their adventures at the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa. Find all of their posts at freep.com/worldcup.

The wait is over.

Four years ago, we sat in a stadium in Nuremberg, Germany, as the United States' World Cup dreams lurched to a halt. The axiom, “there’s always next year,” doesn’t apply in world football. It’s a long wait from one World Cup to the next -- especially when your team performs so poorly in the competition.

But the disappointment from Germany did nothing to stunt our love for the U.S. National Team. It’s a team we’ve watched live together more than 30 times in five different countries. It’s been a key part of our life and our romance.

Our first kiss was the day the U.S. beat Portugal during the 2002 World Cup. We became engaged in Costa Rica the day before we attended a World Cup qualifier there. When we walked down the aisle, our friends threw inflated soccer balls at us. And now, the World Cup is our honeymoon.

Yeah, we know we’re a little crazy.

Today, we find ourselves leaving for another World Cup, this one seemingly a world away in South Africa. It’s hard to believe that by Saturday, we’ll be sitting in a stadium on another continent watching the United States take on England. (2:30 p.m. on ABC)

We heard so many things about South Africa, so much bad and so much good, that we don’t really know what to expect. Are we scared? A little bit. But we’re not rookies. Going to a soccer game in another country is a little like sky diving. It’s an adrenaline rush, but you figure you’ll be OK in the end.

Next stop: Johannesburg.

Pictures of South Africa

The view from the cheap seats at Soccer City in Johannesburg:


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A giant statue of Nelson Mandela at the Mandela Square in Joburg:



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Amy outside Soccer City in Joburg:


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American fans before the USA-Slovenia game:





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Funniest moment of the trip: We run into a few New Zealanders carrying this stuff animal. Robert asks: "What's with the koala." Insulted New Zealander responds: "It's not a koala! It's a wombat." Apparently, koalas are an Australian thing. Who knew?


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At Robben Island, a former political prisoner tells visitors about his time there.

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Nelson Mandela's cell on Robben Island:

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A sign at the light house at Cape Point, near Cape Town, makes it clear how far we are from home:


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At Boulder's Beach near Cape Town, PENGUINS!

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Deer off in the distance at Pilanesburg Nature Reserve near Joburg.

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At Cape Point, BABOONS!


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Two soccer studs: Robert and Jon during a stop at a winery near Cape Town.

Excitement and sadness in Saprissa

A long post... But I've broken it up into chapters:

PART 1: JAN’S ON TV IN COSTA RICA

Wednesday morning, Amy was still in shock from the proposal the night before. However, the next stage of our vacation -- our game at storied Saprissa Stadium in San Jose -- was about to begin.

We caught an early morning flight on another small regional plane from Quepos to San Jose.

You can barely call the Quepos airport an airport. It’s basically a small hanger where you check in. In one corner, there’s a snack bar. On the other side sits a fooseball table.

While we were waiting for our plane to fly in, the snack bar TV was showing footage of the U.S. National Team. For an instant, they showed a shot of U.S. fans from a recent game in D.C. JAN WAS RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PICTURE. Mike, Amy and I screamed and ran over to Jan, who wasn't paying attention to tell her she was just on TV. The 15 or so other people in the airport must have thought we were loco. After that bit of excitement, Mike and I played a spirited game of fooseball. He won on the last ball.




Once we were in San Jose, we rested and blogged. (And, headed over to the team hotel for this bit of fun). Amy also managed to snag some beefcake pics of Landon Donovan lounging by the pool. She can show those to you if you want.



PART 2: PLANNING AN ESCAPE ROUTE

The next order of business: How were we going to get to and from the game?

Now, I can be a bit of a worrier -- especially when stepping into an away stadium as a U.S. fan. During our trip, we’d heard different things about the environment in Saprissa. Some folks told us to watch our backs. Other told us we’d have no problem. I figured things would be OK. I just wanted our escape route planned -- especially if we somehow won the game.

When we got to the hotel, the folks who run OleOle Travel -- U.S. Soccer’s official travel company -- offered to take us to and from the stadium for $50 each. Mike quickly talked me out of this. The stadium is only 2km from the hotel. $200 to transport the four seemed insane.

So, we arranged for the hotel van to take us and pick us up. Total cost: $20! Roundtrip! Awesome!

PART 3: AMERICAN FOOTBALL IN CENTRAL AMERICA?



We decided to head over about 3 1/2 hours before kickoff to take in some of the local atmosphere. Outside the stadium, the city was buzzing. Street vendors were selling flags and jerseys were everywhere. Every three steps, someone offered to sell us tickets. (Who knows if they were real?)

We spent a few minutes trying to find a bar that a friend of Mike’s had mentioned, but no one seemed to have heard of it. A few people light-heartedly taunted us, but most just let us be as we wandered the streets.

We gave up and walked toward Saprissa. From the outside, it looks like a prison. Old, rusty metal and barbed wire are everywhere. To get close, we had to cross through security -- the guards were just making sure we had tickets. In Spanish, Saprissa stadium is nicknamed, la cueva del monstrous (the cave of the monster) -- a reference to the purple dragon insignia of the team that plays there (and is also called Saprissa.)

Past the checkpoint, the crowd thinned and bit and fewer street vendors bothered us. Just across from the stadium, there was small bar. Mike pushed his way inside, ordering us a pair of cervezas and bottled water for the women. Again, most folks either gave us a brief nod or ignored us completely. There wasn’t even a bit of hostility.

Outside the bar, we drank and took in the scene. We struck a conversation with two affluent twentysomething Ticos who were drinking nearby. Apparently, they rent a luxury box during Saprissa’s club matches and got this game for free.

We talked futbol with them for a bit before the conversation turned to another type of football -- the American kind. Turns out, the NFL is gaining popularity in Costa Rica. The guys said the Super Bowl is becoming a huge deal there.

And then, a real shocker: Turns out one these Ticos plays quarterback in a Costa Rican league. Crazy. I had no idea people were playing American football in Costa Rica.






PART 4: DUDE, WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS?

At that point, it was about an hour and half before kickoff and the stadium lines were already getting long so we queued up with the rest of the Ticos.

Once we got to the front of the line, I was the first one in. I showed my ticket was quickly searched by security and walked inside.

I turned around. All my friends were gone.

Apparently, the Tico security guards didn’t want to let Amy’s $400 camera into the stadium. (The don’t allow cameras because they worry that fans could take out the batteries and throw them at players -- or away fans!)

So, Mike, Jan and Amy briefly stepped out of line.

Inside, I didn’t know what was going on. I figured we had gone to the wrong entrance and that guards that let me in hadn’t spotted the mistake. I asked an usher if I was in the right place and she insisted that I was.

Outside, Mike stuffed Amy’s camera -- and his own -- down the front of his pants. They stepped back into line. This time, a different guard basically just waved them in.

Reunited, we climbed a long stairway to the top of Saprissa and our section.

PART 5: LOCO TICOS



Again, there was no venom from fans inside the stadium. I’ve gotten more grief as a Vikings fan at Ford Field. Still, as we approached kickoff. The stadium got louder and louder. Behind each goal, a mass of fans bounced -- literally bounced -- as they sang. It was probably the most energized pre-game atmosphere I’ve ever witnessed.

We were among the first Americans to arrive. After a brief chat with Stephen Goff, the Washington Post’s soccer writer, we found seats in the front row of the section reserved for USA fans. Many of the other Americans who soon joined us seemed to be college students studying in Costa Rica. But there were some hard-core fans like us, including a few faces we recognized.

Only during the U.S. National Anthem did the Ticos sit quietly. The rest of the time, the stadium buzzed like a hornets nest.

At kickoff, it was as loud as a rock concert.

There doesn’t seem much point in recounting the game. If you like the U.S. National team, you watched the game. It was not close. Ever. We were dominated from the beginning to the end.

By the end of the game, we were all exhausted. We wandered back to our van, congratulating some of the Ticos as we walked. The van was right where the driver said it would be. He gave us a sympathetic look. After eventually, squeezing out of our parking space into traffic, the driver deftly weaved us through the back roads of San Jose, somehow missing most of the stadium traffic.

Starving, we grabbed some food and drink at the hotel bar and discuss our disastrous performance with some fellow Americans.

PART 6: NEXT STOP: CHICAGO!

It’s now Saturday morning in Chicago. After finally arriving in around, 5 p.m. last night, Amy and I found an urgent care facility to take another look at her jellyfish sting. They gave her more medicine. She tells me it feels a lot better today.

After the doc, we met up with Marcel for a nice dinner. Unfortunately, the long travel day took it's toll and we crashed early.

Game day has come yet again. We need to look better tonight. We need to win.