All of the complaining parties are offenders of one form or another. Some of you yahoos in Texas shake cowbells at sporting events, which makes the vuvuzela sound like a lullaby.

Others among us are guilty of using those annoyingly lazy hand-clapper things. Who thought there was such a gap in society that we needed to invent that? And what did that brainstorm sound like? “Hmm, I have two hands but that is awfully bothersome to have to clap using both of them. And sometimes I clap wrong and it almost hurts. What if I just had to shake these plastic hand-shaped things and they made a rackety clapping sound? Yes!! Perfect!!”

Worst of all are the dreaded thundersticks. Inflatable banging plastic demons sponsored by Crocs or Kraft Foods or the local Autoplex. Let’s just not go there.

But here is the deal. And here is the difference. We use noisemakers in America because we generally lack passion enough to produce organic noise from our own beings. And we’re generally too lazy to do much noise-making even if we have all the zeal in the world. So we rely on gimmicky noisemakers that allow us the ability to make “supportive” noise while eating nachos and drinking a 72oz soft drink.

The South Africans, on the other hand, are so over-excited about their teams that they need more ways to make noise. So beyond singing and clapping, they grab the vuvuzela and start to blow. They blow in unison, creating deafening chants with the horns. They wave them in unison, creating impressive displays of spontaneous pseudo-choreographed support. And they dance all the while, celebrating not the ability to dominate on the pitch but the simple freedom to enjoy sport and recreation free from the deafening burdens of life as third-world slum-dwellers.

I love the vuvuzela and the departure it is from life as we know it. I love that it is an instrument of celebration for a people who for so long lacked something to celebrate. I love that in 2004 when the World Cup was awarded to South Africa, the streets immediately filled with the sound of the plastic trumpet and the din lasted long through the night. I love that FIFA has allowed the culture of the host nation to bleed through and that the uptight residents of the rest of the world are irritated by someone else’s joyful noise. I love it all.

I love South Africans. I love the vuvuzela.

As the 2010 World Cup kicked off in the opening match between South Africa and Mexico, all eyes were on Johannesburg’s Soccer City Stadium, the sporting jewel of Africa’s cosmopolitan capital of commerce. Once an unimpressive outpost, the stadium is now a glowing masterpiece and the dream destination of the 32 national teams vying to be called World Cup Champions.  More than that, it might just be the perfect metaphor for the US Men’s National team, a group that intends to use this African World Cup to make its case for heavyweight status in the world of soccer.

Originally opened in 1989, Soccer City Stadium existed in a sort of limbo within the South African city of Johannesburg.  Formerly known as FNB Stadium (named after a local bank), the stadium sat straddling a line between Johannesburg proper and the famous black township of Soweto.  It belonged to no one, sitting on the backside of a gold dump (a mountain of discarded cyanide-laced yellow earth leftover from decades of gold mining) and had the appearance of a concrete skeleton, hulking and unapproachable.

Through the 1990s, the area surrounding Soccer City was dark and sparsely inhabited.  The nearest residents to the stadium came from the impoverished and violent area of Soweto and from the Johannesburg Correctional Centre.  A promising site sat as unfulfilled potential, an uninspired but still juvenile stage just waiting to be properly set.

Around the same time, the US Men’s National Team was similarly an unimpressive junior on the American sports landscape.  The Yanks limped into the 1990 World Cup in Italy injured and inexperienced.  They were thoroughly embarrassed in the Group Stage, losing all three matches to Czechoslovakia, Italy, and Austria by a combined score of 8-2.

The US side managed a respectable run to the quarterfinals as the host nation in 1994 (losing 1-0 to eventual champion Brazil) before another dismal three-and-out performance in the 1998 World Cup in France.  The 2002 squad showed promise before losing to Germany in the Knockout Stage, setting up another disappointing regression in Germany in 2006, as the US was eliminated in Group Stage for the 3rd time in 5 years.

It was in the midst of this run that South Africa was named the host site for the 2010 FIFA World Cup, with Soccer City being named as the main stadium, host to the opening match and championship final.  Thus the overhaul began, with the assiduous infrastructure improvements occurring fastidiously and immediately.  The roads were improved, sidewalks constructed, and train and taxiway systems better connected.

There was suddenly a buzz in the area as the towering construction cranes assembled around the once looming morass of concrete.  The seating bowls were reconstructed and the shell began to resemble the true creativity and beauty of the people it represented.

Simultaneously, despite the disquieting nature of the US’s performance over the previous decade, optimism seemed to be building that the soccer program was advancing and that the US would soon be poised for a deeper run into the tournament.  The inner workings of the team were reconfigured and the players began to better resemble the strength and ingenuity of the American people they represented.  All of this hope was buoyed by the 2009 Confederations Cup, where the US men ousted Egypt and top-ranked Spain before losing a heartbreaking match to Brazil in the final after leading 2-0 at halftime.

Finally, it seemed, the US team seemed to have an arsenal of playmakers that could compete on the international stage.  Jozy Altidore had emerged as a top-quality striker and veterans Landon Donovan and Clint Dempsey anchored a creative midfield that was beginning to demand respect from opponents.  With a defense loaded with its own share of top-level talent, most prominently in Everton’s Tim Howard and AC Milan’s Oguchi Onyewu, hope was beginning to surface in the American fanbase that maybe this US squad was the one to carry the Stars and Stripes to glory. 

This reconstruction of the American soccer hopes seems perfectly in line with the reconstruction of Soccer City, two entities that always had as much unfulfilled potential as promise.  Only now, both the US National Team and Soccer City have risen above the surrounding mediocrity to shine as forces on the world stage.  They can move from ignominy to invincibility, from remnants of forgotten history to resplendent memories for the ages. 

And maybe, just maybe, they have the chance to shine together on July 11th, the date of the World Cup Final.

In the early afternoon hours of May 15, 2004, I sat in the living room of a dilapidated colonial-era mansion in the Auckland Park section of Johannesburg, South Africa – just west of the center city. Vines grew into the room through the ceiling and the wood floors were worn soft.  The paint chipped away in the corners of the room, showing the original plaster, the walls that I was so glad could not talk. 

I had been living in Johannesburg for several months and was still shocked by the rawness of their fledgling democracy.  The oppressive Apartheid regime had been gone over a decade and yet the stains of racism ran deeply. This old house surely held stories.  There were strange nooks in the house, places for servants to collect items, answer beckons, or just plain hide.  The leafy backyard of the property contained 4 rooms for the domestic help, rooms now used to house my African friends that lived at the house with me.

All told, a dozen or so people lived in the house.  As a young missionary, I was the only American.  In fact, I was the only non-African.  And I liked it that way.  I had completely abandoned the culture of my birth, embracing all things South African.  Most exciting on that day, I had embraced soccer.

Sitting around a fuzzy television, vacillating between a black & white picture and green on green picture, were these African friends of mine.  We sat awaiting the words of Sepp Blatter, the FIFA don who held the envelope which held the fate of soccer in South Africa, the envelope that contained the name of the host country of the 2010 World Cup.

On the edge of our ragamuffin couch, we watched as the bid videos for the other countries were shown.  Financed with oil money and comfortably north of the Sahara, the competitors’ bids were slick and compelling.  Our hearts sank as we watched in awe, imagining watching a 2010 final in Cairo.

Eventually, after the presentation of dignitaries and the commencement of formalities, the moment arrived and the envelope was opened. The card slid out with the name of the winner neatly printed for the world to see. 

SOUTH AFRICA.

Pandemonium.

In a frenzy of Zulu kicks and flailing embraces, my African friends, almost in a heap, spilled into the streets. Somewhere along the way, they had grabbed their vuvuzelas and begun to join in the cacophony of horns blowing in the streets.

I sat in awe.  I smiled at the reactions of my friends and of the formal nature of the FIFA ceremony.  What a stark contrast…

I found myself on the verge of tears as I considered what had just been announced.  Somehow, hope and unity had coalesced and descended upon the violent streets of Johannesburg.  From the white-sand beaches of Cape Town to the tin shacks of Soweto, from the high-rises of Sandton to the savannah of the Kruger National Park, all of South Africa was euphoric.

The evening came and the vuvuzelas continued on into the night.  The words of Sepp Blatter rang into the night along with the squawking horns.

“We can all applaud Africa. The victor is football. The victor is Africa.”

Those crumbling walls in Auckland Park added one more layer of history.  They had acquired one more story to tell.  On June 11th, the culmination of that story, the 2010 World Cup, will finally be upon us.

Back inside, you wipe the sleep from your eyes and pull your Alamo FC jersey over your head. A quick look in the mirror confirms that you are, in fact, awake. You walk out of your building and grab a coffee from the shop on the corner.

Drinking in the first sip of invigorating morning caffeine, and burning your tongue in the process, you emerge back onto the pavement just in time to catch the River North Streetcar that climbs up Broadway. You hop on, give “the nod” to the dozen or so others in their Alamo FC garb and allow the morning breeze to further awaken your senses.

Once at your stop, you and the other supporters exit the streetcar and join the throngs of folks just like you making their way toward the pubs lining the northern edge of the Museum Reach of the Riverwalk. There is an electricity in the air as you find yourself knee-deep in the pulsing pre-match festivities.

Supporters from The Upper Room and Puro 33 gather at Vito’s Sports Bar, where the michelada flows and the smell of chorizo soaks the air. You and the Crocketteers gather in your traditional spot, filling the old tavern with singing, shouting, and Freetail brews. Bands play as the supporters prepare to give a full 90 minutes to the home side just a short walk away at Alamo Stadium.

Match-time approaches and you begin the trek with the other supporters towards the stadium. The spirit of revelry is thick amongst the group. You smile as some around you wave scarves in the Texas sun, blow on parade horns, and generally swim in the pool of anticipation that is an old-world match-day. You think to yourself, “This is why I love soccer. This is what I waited so long for…”

Alamo Stadium is particularly lively this afternoon, the glorious old bones of the stadium made new with the fresh renovation. ABC is here to televise the MLS Match of the Week. All eyes (and cameras) are trained on Thierry Henry, as he warms up in his first San Antonio appearance as a member of Red Bull New York.

You slide into Row 6 and greet the familiar faces around you as the chants of your fellow Alamo FC supporters echo off of the limestone walls of the historic venue. An overflow crowd of 26,000 buzzes while the teams take to the pitch, flashbulbs popping away.  You look around and drink in the atmosphere, the revelry, the beautiful game.  What a moment for San Antonio…

The referee’s whistle blows, the ball is played in. You take a deep breath and survey the surreal scene one last time before throwing yourself fully into the match. This is real. The MLS is home in San Antonio.

Reminder: MLS Watch Party at Freetail Brewing Co. tonight May 13, 2010 8:00 PM

We’ve addressed in this space already that soccer is a sport that is built on anticipation. That anticipation, when cultivated in the proper atmosphere, can give way to absolute euphoria.

For San Antonio, soccer all of the sudden seems closer than ever to being a professional reality, as the perfect atmosphere for “The Beautiful Game” in South Texas has emerged. The supporters of soccer in San Antonio can only hope that this hopeful atmosphere, this raised level of anticipation, leads to eventual euphoria in the form of a top-flight pro soccer team calling San Antonio home.

A recent article in the San Antonio Express News revealed that San Antonio Independent School District and Spurs Sports & Entertainment have in fact had discussions about venerable Alamo Stadium being placed in the managing hands of SS&E.

Alamo Stadium is a legendary local sports shrine that has fallen into various levels of disrepair as the cash-strapped inner-city SAISD struggles to maintain the facility. In its 70 years of existence, Alamo Stadium has hosted high school sports of all kinds in addition to college and professional football.

The beauty of the talks between SAISD and SS&E is that the Spurs organization (which has been itching to get into professional soccer) would not have to build a stadium for any proposed team, but simply would renovate an existing jewel that happens to be just the right size and in just the right place.

Some of the most revered (and well-attended) stadiums in Major League Soccer share a common trait: an urban location.

Seattle’s Qwest Field and Toronto’s BMO Stadium are the two oft-cited urban jewels of the league, each drawing capacity crowds and each famous for an incredible gameday atmosphere. Each also happens to be in the shadow of their respective city skylines. Alamo Stadium, for those keeping track at home, is a mere 4 miles from the front door of the Alamo.

Unlike stadiums in far-flung exurbs (like Pizza Hut Park in Frisco or Gillette Stadium in Foxborough), Alamo Stadium would be accessible by people from all over San Antonio by a simple 20 minute drive. Supporters from Stone Oak and Southtown would have easy access, as would families from the suburbs and young urbanites in the city. And for that growing number of folks living in the urban core, Alamo Stadium is accessible by public transport, with a VIA ride from Alamo Plaza taking a mere 15 minutes. With plans to add a streetcar line on Broadway in the near future, the booming residential area that is about to be River North will be connected to a refurbished, resplendent Alamo Stadium in a myriad of ways.

So the anticipation rises as the atmosphere around the potential for soccer in San Antonio heats up. SS&E is interested enough in bringing high-level soccer to San Antonio that they have entered into talks regarding management and renovation. SAISD is interested enough in staying solvent that they will bend over backwards to allow someone with resources to take over their historic facility. And San Antonio’s starving soccer fans are one step closer to realizing the euphoric dream of having professional soccer in the city. In Alamo Stadium, the beautiful game is as close as it has ever been to finding itself in the shadow of the San Antonio skyline.

Read more San Antonio Soccer articles at Crocketteers.com

It is in this state of constant anticipation that the allure of soccer becomes so real. It is in the build-up to a goal that the height of soccer excitement is experienced. Your team intercepts a pass or corrals an errant volley and begins a counter-attack. A crisp pass to a streaking forward brings the entire crowd to their feet. They stand and hold their collective breath as the ball hooks and bends off the striker’s foot, snaking past the goalkeeper and rippling the back of the net.

Euphoria.

And yet the goal itself is only a release, a denouement to the prose that takes place on the pitch. The real drama happens in the in-between moments, in the anticipation of the game-winning goal.

We, the Crocketteers, believe that our own euphoric moment is coming. We believe that San Antonio will soon have a world-class soccer team to call it’s own. And as lovers of both the “beautiful game” and San Antonio, we are dedicated to doing our part to bring that team home. We wait then, appropriately, in anticipation of that day. We wait on area soccer fields. We wait around televisions in area pubs. Hundreds of us, Crocketteers… Our numbers are growing every day, a virtual army of supporters just waiting for a team to stand behind.

And we wait imagining that day when our anticipation is realized, when the game of Pele and Ronaldo and Beckham and Maradona finds itself home in San Antonio. That day will come and our anticipation will find itself transformed into absolute euphoria. And we’ll say we were there at the very beginning. We’ll remember when we, San Antonio’s premier soccer supporter’s group, stood in anticipation.

So the question is…

Will you stand with us?

One of the best innovation strategies in business is to do nothing.  Sit and wait and allow those around you to innovate.  Sometimes the smart companies pay for the R&D to make incremental changes to someone else’s good idea rather than paying the tremendous R&D to create the idea in the first place.

It is in that spirit, San Antonio, that I invite you to tour Vancouver’s BC Place with me.

As you know, Vancouver is going to begin play in the MLS in 2011.  They will be playing home games at BC Place for the foreseeable future.

BC Place is a 60,000 seat stadium, whose current primary tenant is the BC Lions Canadian Football League Team.  That is to say, BC Place is a 60,000 seat football stadium.  Built in 1983 in part to attract a Major League Baseball team that never materialized, BC Place hosts trade and consumer shows (Boat Shows, Home and Garden Shows) and motorsports events (Monster Jam, anyone?) in addition to the CFL’s Lions.  BC Place, though relatively busy, operates at an annual loss.

Sound familiar?

The Alamodome is a 65,000 seat stadium and is currently lacking a regular tenant.  Built in 1993 in part to attract a National Football League team that never materialized, the Alamodome plays host to annual football games, trade and consumer shows, motorsports events, and annual marching band competitions.  The Alamodome, though relatively busy, operates at an annual loss.

Once upon a time, the MLS had an agreement with the city of San Antonio to bring a team to the Alamodome, much like the deal that they currently have to place an MLS franchise in Vancouver’s BC Place.  Politics quashed the deal as the reins of power changed hands.

Then, this spring, we get word that Spurs Sports & Entertainment (SS&E) is interested in bringing professional soccer to San Antonio, provided they have a soccer-specific-stadium (SSS).  An SSS would bring in maximum revenue and the group made the statement that the economics at the Alamodome don’t work.

Perhaps we need to introduce our friends at SS&E to BC Place.  Like the Alamodome’s long, lost twin, BC Place is not only viable for a profitable MLS team, but it is viable and it is TEN YEARS OLDER.  BC Place will be undergoing limited renovations that will create an intimate soccer venue from a 60,000 seat barn.  As you can see in the photo, BC Place would limit the seating to the lower bowl, integrate a centrally hung scoreboard, and project a visually striking image through the use of a translucent canopy that prevents the empty upper bowl from even being seen, giving a fan the impression and experience of a true European-style soccer environment.

The Alamodome could be transformed in much the same way.  It could probably be done even cheaper than the work in Vancouver, thanks to the Alamodome’s relative youth.  It could be done.  And if the economics work in Vancouver, are we really to believe that they wouldn’t work here?

All of this to say one thing: San Antonio could host the MLS tomorrow.  San Antonio has the population, the desire, the corporate base, and the facility.

All we need are leaders that will give it a chance.   More on that soon…

Discuss this blog with the Crocketteers on our forum

This week, a story crept up that the parent company of the San Antonio Spurs (and WNBA Silver Stars and AHL Rampage), Spurs Sports and Entertainment, was interested in bringing professional soccer to San Antonio.

The league that would serve as San Antonio’s first step into the world of pro futbol would be the USL, sort of the apprentice league to the top-level Major League Soccer (MLS).

Rather than considering this a foray into yet another minor league venture, San Antonians should recognize this as the first step up the MLS ladder.  That is the ladder that leads to the above scene of 32,000 rabid supporters cheering on the Seattle Sounders.

Professional soccer has been steadily growing in the US and the MLS has been expanding as the country’s appetite for the sport grows. The sport has proven to be family-friendly and affordable. And not coincidentally, 3 out of the last 4 expansion MLS franchises have been awarded to cities that featured USL teams, including the aforementioned Sounders.

As a soccer fan, I have to believe that a USL team in San Antonio would definitely be a step in the right direction. It would be a step towards the MLS, top-flight soccer, and a revolution in the San Antonio sports scene.

(Originally posted on The Post-Karmic Stream…)