World Cup Colors

Hello Everyone,

June 14 is officially Flag Day in the United States, when we (and by “we,” I mean not me at all) celebrate the day the U.S. flag was officially adopted by the nation in 1777. This is one of the more muted holidays on the calendar, and it normally goes by unnoticed and un-flagged. However, this year -- for me at least -- June 14 was chock-a-block with flags. This was the day that my family and I attended the Netherlands-Denmark game of the World Cup at Soccer City Stadium in Johannesburg.

We were told to get to the stadium quite early to avoid the huge crowds.

It filled up quickly, though, and we were soon surrounded by enthusiastic fans.

My family has ties to neither of the competing nations, so we were a relatively neutral presence, but as the stadium was packed with over 83,000 other fans all eager to enjoy what Brazilian football-legend Pelé dubbed “the beautiful game,” I don’t think we greatly detracted from the general partisanship of the crowd. The Netherlands were favored to win and their fans far outnumbered the Danish supporters.

Lots and lots of Netherlands fans.


A lone Danish supporter.

They were also more creatively attired. In addition to the huge number of Dutch flags (which are red, white and blue, even though the national color seems to be orange), I saw a fair number of older gentlemen sporting hats with orange braids, orange balloon crowns and a group of people dressed as Dutch flight attendants serving vile orange liquid at the entrance to the stadium.

If this flight crew were to serve me on a real airline,
I'd probably resort to swimming across the ocean.

The Danish, though, had a vocal and enthusiastic -- if more diminutive -- contingent as well. They were recognized by their red and white clothing, their white cross on a red background flags and, sadly for them, by their slightly more downcast faces when the Danes lost 0-2, the first point against them being an own goal.

This may seem obvious, but though I knew very few of the 84,000 other people present that day, I realized as I looked out over the stadium that I knew a fair amount about most of them. The 11 players in white shirts were the Danish, the 11 in orange were the Dutch. Each wanted to win.

The kickoff.

The men in black were the referees and the line of neon orange-jacketed people on the periphery of the field were the security guards meant to protect the teams and the refs. The people in neon orange jackets who stood at each of the entrances in the stands were stewards, and were there to help people to their seats and to control the crowds. Presumably all of these black or neon-clad folk were either neutral about the outcome of the game or their respective duties outweighed their personal preferences. The people in the crowd, however, were much less impartial. Those who wore orange and waved a red, white and blue flag wanted the Dutch to win. Those who wore red and waved a red and white flag wanted the Danes to win. It was that simple. I realized that it was this simple because of color.

I began to be philosophically nervous. How was what I was doing -- understand people based on a physical characteristic -- different from racism? We’ve all heard stories about the intense patriotism that accompanies sporting events of this proportion and significance. We all know how it can lead to very bitter feelings and prejudices against certain teams based on past encounters or present ignorance. There is a real “us and them” mentality that comes with sports, whether you’re a player or a spectator, and the jerseys, the colorful wigs, the flags all contribute to this. Here I was, sitting in what is now affectionately known as “the Rainbow Nation,” but which was once a paragon of racial intolerance. Does the World Cup, the largest single sport tournament in the world, contribute to xenophobia or help break it down?

I suppose it depends entirely on the person. National lines are drawn with a bold pen and it usually takes far longer than two hours for bigots to reform, despite what Hollywood would like us to believe. But at least in this context, if people judge us on a physical characteristic, it’s one that we’ve chosen for ourselves. By wearing a yellow and green scarf to the game, I chose, along with many others in the stadium, to identify myself with South Africa’s team. By extension, I was also choosing to associate myself with the country itself, past and present injustices and all.

South Africans have been comparing the atmosphere in the country to that during the first democratic election in 1994, when for the first time, all adults were able to vote, regardless of their color. In general, South Africans seem thrilled simply to be the hosts of the wide range of competing nations. And for the most part, the the visitors from these nations can separate themselves from the costumes they wear and the flags they carry.

After all, at the end of the day, it is just a game, even if it is a beautiful -- and at times colorful -- one.

A soccer fan sitting near us.

Have a good week,
Sarah/Mouse