Not only has the football been mostly far from scintillating, but both the teams I was supporting, Italy and Portugal, are out. And deserve to be out, by the way. So now I'm left with supporting Argentina - who I do believe deserve it, have played mostly well and, well, Argentina under Maradona would just be a terrific winner. The only other team remaining that I can remotely support are Germany - and they're up against Argentina in a quarter-final. Typical.
It's also been a World Cup for me blighted by the worst gift South Africa has given to the world since apartheid - that wretched vuvuzela.
But I think another thing that has so irked me about this World Cup is all the rampant patriotism that I've seen around the country and had to endure for the last few months, and especially in the last few weeks. It has been an absolute overdose.
Flags, flags, flags everywhere. Even I (half-hearted) got into it by buying a huge Portuguese flag for my mom (fat lot of good that did) and even wore an Italy bracelet and scarf given to me by said mom (even bigger fat lot of good...). I was even given a small Italian flag to have fluttering from my car. I guess that's where my I drew the line.
Why is that? I really can't say. I'm not feeling particularly Scrooge-esque these days. I really did try and get into it all. After all, I've always enjoyed the World Cup. Perhaps it's because it seemed somehow so forced for me to get into that, that for others to be doing it just seemed silly and trite. Who knows, perhaps that is Scrooge-esque of me.
Maybe it was just too much damn build-up to this World Cup in this country. Billboards, electronic signs and newspapers kept us on a breathless daily countdown to the opening day as if our very lives depended on it. For months every Friday leading up to the World Cup many locals would get all togged up in the national soccer shirt of South Africa. Never mind that the garish yellow and green strip is kitsch and ugly beyond belief. I know that for me it was one of most utterly annoying little 'traditions' in living memory. It just annoyed the hell out of me to see all of this money being spent on crappy, ugly FIFAdom shirts in a country with nearly 40% unemployment, an utterly crap and corrupt government and one one of the most racially fractured populations on the planet.
And we got flooded with an endless stream of advert after advert of how 'just how immensely proud we are to be hosts of the 2010 World Cup', all set to the most searingly rousing (read: painful) and tear-inducing music and images. It was enough to make one puke. I nearly did on a few occasions.
Yeah, yeah, we were the hosts, but it seemed a put-on - too much effort for a nation with an entirely schizophrenic and divided national character.
I can't wait to be back to a Friday when I don't have to be assaulted by all those awful canary yellow shirts.
Even today I nearly burst out laughing when I walked into my local video store and, it being a Friday, all the employees had their yellow South Africa football shirts on! Puh-leeze! South Africa didn't even make it through the first round and got eliminated from the tournament over a week ago, for crying out loud!
It's all so unconvincing. It's ersatz patriotism.
Perhaps upon reflection I can surmise that my antipathy to all this ersatz flag-waving paraphernalia has to do with the world in which we live. A world that seems more corporate and less 'national' than ever. A world where national governments seem more inept than ever and more willing to kowtow to corporatist fascism and global finance. A world where over-pampered, overrated and overly arrogant prima donnas like Christiano Ronaldo, Wayne Rooney and that Frenchman Anelka can't even play well enough for their own countries to even justify why they earn such obscene amounts of money for just kicking a ball around.
When I consider all that, I guess all this flag-waving and chest-thumping just seems hollow and puerile. Unconvincing. Ersatz.
So for now I'll watch a few of the remaining games and hope that Argentina goes on to win. And quietly hide my Italian flag away, of course.
And I'll reflect upon a time when flags and national anthems and all that really did stir something inside me during the World Cup or any like event. And wonder why now it all seems so much like pantomime.
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