GROUP C ENGLAND 1 USA 1:The Italian's patience will be tried as already, it seems, England are destined for the same old World Cup cycle
THE WORLD Cup is about many things – including travelling behind the USA team bus in a mini-bus that belongs to the apartheid era.
It’s being driven with insane recklessness by a Bulgarian named Alex who makes it clear through unexpected machine-gun bursts of anguish he could not care less for the finer points of England v USA but wishes only to place as many miles as possible between Rustenburg – “this sheethole” – and himself as quickly as possible.
He is becoming increasingly mad at the fact that several thousand English and American travellers stand in his path, forcing him to drive through the night. It is probable the only man leaving Rustenburg with more frustrations than Fabio Capello late on Saturday night is Alex.
It was quite an evening in the town built around its platinum mines and the reputation of Paul Kruger, the folk hero of Boer resistance, towards the end of the last century.
In fact, there cannot have been such an intense influx of Englishmen to this part of the highveld since the fierce clashes of the Second Boer War. The road up from Johannesburg is winding and slow and the fans from both countries gathered from mid-afternoon. This was a match that had loomed large in American minds for many months.
The right to perpetuate the myth of England v USA in 1950 is one the Americans reserve and duly exercise on occasions like this and although this represented a chance to see England’s crop of stars from the Premier League, there was a confidence about the visiting fans in the hours before kick-off.
Rustenburg is a gorgeous provincial stadium on the outskirts of town and a couple of sheebeens, one of which has a butcher shop so fans can buy meat and cook it up on the brea fires outside the door. With Argentina and Nigeria on the big screen, it wasn’t a bad way to watch the sun disappear and wait for the teams to take the field.
All afternoon, the local brass band had been diligently practising perhaps the two most politically loaded albums on earth and when their hour came, the fans from both countries sang it out, the English rendition made fuller by the belief that only good things could happen here. After just four minutes, they were vindicated. The odd thing about Steven Gerrard’s goal was its origins were so random. The English captain was distracted and had his back turned to Glen Johnson for the throw-in that started the move and only came alive to the danger when the American defence went to close Frank Lampard down.
“You talk about managing the game, I think that play just starts with the throw-in,” said USA manager Bob Bradley afterwards.
“The ball went back to Lampard, we stepped up to close him down and the next thing a big hole opened up. So you talk about managing and part of that is not over- committing and learning about that.”
Gerrard bolted for the gap and the quick flicks through Emile Heskey and Wayne Rooney sent him on his way. The finish was slick and confident and the Capello era – the real era, that is, of guiding England through this epic tournament without the hysterics and tears of old – looked to be on its way.
Capello on the sideline is a study in the Italian mastery of gesticulation. At times, he might have been auditioning for the Old Vic as he moved with furious energy in front of his bench. David Beckham, immaculately suited and looking every inch the assistant coach, wisely stayed out of his way.
And this might have been the night when he discovered what all of the men who have succeeded Alf Ramsey have learned with varying degrees of bitterness: the job is impossible. As we watched from high above, the men in the pristine white shirts toiled in vain for the inspiration that would unlock the industrious American defence for the remainder of the match. Things fell apart. Green’s unbelievably horrible moment, Ledley King’s latest breakdown, Jamie Milner’s faltering confidence. The problems stack up, confidence disappears, the fans grow more disenchanted, the headlines more cruel and the story remains the same. Already, it seems England are destined for the same old World Cup cycle.
It could have been worse. When Jozy Altidore got the run on Jamie Carragher and cut a right foot shot which hit Green’s post, the sky could have fallen on the English. They survived. They have until Friday night to rally themselves in Cape Town. The English and Americans departed in full humour. Only Alex was not charmed. It was after 1am and the man wanted home and he took advantage of the American cavalcade, inserting his jam- packed little van in its tail and speeding on the wrong side of the road past hundreds and hundreds of cars waiting to leave Rustenburg.
Like Fabio, there was nothing we could do but hang on for dear life.
