Game Over
I have never felt as much excitement and disappointment watching football as I did on Tuesday.
Even though Ghana lost to Brazil (3-0), there was still partying in the streets. Ghanaians were celebrating that the Black Stars had made it as far as they did in their first World Cup--and further than any other African team. And losing isn't so bad when it's to a powerhouse like Brazil.
I was hoping that Ghana would get at least one goal---to appease all those Ghanaians that were predicting--or maybe it was hoping--"we score Bra-zil." The Black Stars made many attempts, but no ball would go in the net. It was a frustrating, painful game. They put up a good fight and played much better than the score indicates.
It wasn't all happiness afterwards though. One guy on the street told us to go back to our home countries as we passed by. The girl at the internet place across from our house said that all the whites should go home because Brazil had won. At Circle, a man came out of nowhere and started throwing water sachets at Olivier, shouting and cursing at him once the game had ended. Others tried to intervene and stop him, but Olivier said he'd already been drenched.
At first I was confused, thinking about how the Brazilians share more heritage with Africans than they do with 'whites.' Then I realized it was about the Slovak ref, who was blamed by many Ghanaians for making bad calls (and some did seem bad). The Daily Graphic said as much on its cover and on the back page reported that the ref had tried to get a Brazilian player's jersey after the game--demonstrating his bias. The negative reactions from some Ghanaians on the streets were based on their belief that the ref was racist, not just biased. I couldn't help but think they were the ones being racist though.
Fortunately, these incidences seem to have been pretty isolated and exceptional. We got many smiles and calls of 'my Ghana sisters!' as we walked down the packed street. One group of marching/dancing fans even had a rag-tag brass band with them. My favorite sight was of the makeshift video cameras and pretend reporters: they'd fashion a mock camera out of a hunk of wood, complete with a cord, and another would hold a water bottle up to passerbys as a microphone. Another used a plastic petrol jug labeled "TV" as his camera.
Four years from now I hope I'm in another World Cup qualifying country to see how the hope and pride compare to what I saw this month. But even if I am, if Ghana's in the game, they've won my support!
Even though Ghana lost to Brazil (3-0), there was still partying in the streets. Ghanaians were celebrating that the Black Stars had made it as far as they did in their first World Cup--and further than any other African team. And losing isn't so bad when it's to a powerhouse like Brazil.
I was hoping that Ghana would get at least one goal---to appease all those Ghanaians that were predicting--or maybe it was hoping--"we score Bra-zil." The Black Stars made many attempts, but no ball would go in the net. It was a frustrating, painful game. They put up a good fight and played much better than the score indicates.
It wasn't all happiness afterwards though. One guy on the street told us to go back to our home countries as we passed by. The girl at the internet place across from our house said that all the whites should go home because Brazil had won. At Circle, a man came out of nowhere and started throwing water sachets at Olivier, shouting and cursing at him once the game had ended. Others tried to intervene and stop him, but Olivier said he'd already been drenched.
At first I was confused, thinking about how the Brazilians share more heritage with Africans than they do with 'whites.' Then I realized it was about the Slovak ref, who was blamed by many Ghanaians for making bad calls (and some did seem bad). The Daily Graphic said as much on its cover and on the back page reported that the ref had tried to get a Brazilian player's jersey after the game--demonstrating his bias. The negative reactions from some Ghanaians on the streets were based on their belief that the ref was racist, not just biased. I couldn't help but think they were the ones being racist though.
Fortunately, these incidences seem to have been pretty isolated and exceptional. We got many smiles and calls of 'my Ghana sisters!' as we walked down the packed street. One group of marching/dancing fans even had a rag-tag brass band with them. My favorite sight was of the makeshift video cameras and pretend reporters: they'd fashion a mock camera out of a hunk of wood, complete with a cord, and another would hold a water bottle up to passerbys as a microphone. Another used a plastic petrol jug labeled "TV" as his camera.
Four years from now I hope I'm in another World Cup qualifying country to see how the hope and pride compare to what I saw this month. But even if I am, if Ghana's in the game, they've won my support!
posted by Jill at 9:04 AM
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