As you waka woke today, were you seized with a feeling that your cup is empty? That the buzz has gone? That you have just your memories and re-runs to cling onto? You are not alone. Felled by a kick in the solar plexus, we are now paying the penalty for playing the field too often. As cold turkey sets in, we will see octo-shapes telling us that our future is bleak unless we change our goalposts. But we can’t get over that empty feeling. So for the foreseeable future, we will keep our eyes peeled on the painful details of our favourite teams falling on their faces. Or indeed on the fetching and fearsome faces that we can’t get enough of.
Not all of us watched the matches to follow the jabulani, we were keener on a gander at those gorgeous faces, oh okay, those flashy pins, not to mention those abs fab superstructures. Our copa la vida was just dandy when it came with David Villa’s fancy facework or Franck Ribery’s Pirates of the Caribbean visage. Oh, the hoots, the hooters, we’ll miss them all. But, we are the fortunate for no sooner do we get over our withdrawal symptoms, the Commonwealth Games will be on us. Well, maybe what’s their names won’t get us going in the manner of mesmerising Messi or butterfingers Green. Can’t quite see Suresh Kalmadi generating the same frisson of excitement as Jacob Zuma.
Be sure that our Games will be the new reality show with athletes burning up the tracks in half-finished stadiums. With the police commissioner telling us to stay at home due to traffic restrictions, we will have to save our cheers and jeers for TV. But then again, if we are to watch an Usain Bolt-less Commonwealth Games, perhaps we should be game for a
bit of nostalgia. Yes, even as the Games get going, if they do, we will be glued to our sets reliving our vuvuzela days and waka waka nights.