'The pleasure of football without vuvelezas'

Last week I enjoyed some grand live football action in Europe, taking in the match between Germany and Switzerland in Basel and the derby between Bayern Munich and home team FC Nuremberg.

The atmosphere at both these games was simply wonderful, so if I was allowed a special wish it would be for local football to enjoy similar pleasures when attending professional football matches.

I just love the whole family tradition with granny or grandpa leading three generations to their seats which, of course, would be vacant, even if you arrive five minutes before the end of a particular match.

There are also no delays at the gate, because in Europe the majority of the spectators obviously have the healthy habit of arriving way ahead of the kickoff.

What struck me most, though, was the superb battle in the stands between rival fans. Not physical battles, but a musical war with songs that have stood the test of time and others made up on the spur of the moment with which to celebrate or taunt the opposition.

Once the Germans had gone three goals up, the Swiss, famous for their cheesy delicacies, were reminded, in song that is, that they resembled just a small piece of cheese and that they were not good enough as a main meal.

Nuremberg, lying second from bottom, were desperate for at least a draw against log leaders Bayern which they duly achieved.

Bayern, with the iconic Oliver Kahn as animated as ever in goal, were in fact lucky to snatch a late equaliser after Kahn had been beaten with a superb shot into his top corner.

The home fans were the real heroes, for they kept chanting encouragement and the rhythmic sounds from above were clearly inspirational to the men on the pitch.

That's what football support should be about. Fans in touch with every move on the field shower the players with appreciation throughout the match, not only for the big moments.

South African football enjoyed such intellectual support in the distant past, but that was before the cacophony of the vuvuzela.

People smoked on the stands, but the emissions from cigarettes did not bother me too much after having had to endure the smoking of dagga at local venues for so many years.

This is, of course, another prime cause for the empty seats at local football, yet club officials and policemen on duty have simply failed to curtail the illegal activity.

Perhaps in this time when most of my dreams are being realised, I will wish for football fans to respect the format of reserved seats, not to bust the ear drums with continuous blaring on the vuvuzelas and to please stop the so-called Cape culture of smoking dagga at local games.

Success with the above would no doubt lure back granny and the family, and perhaps then clubs could re-establish themselves as serious players in the entertainment market.

Yes, I am a dreamer.

And as I closed my eyes for a few seconds, I saw the fiery (Oliver) Kahn leaving his goal, clear a metal fence and sprint up three flights of stairs to grab a vuvuzela from a startled fan.

Sensing the volatile keeper's intentions, a group enjoying heavy puffs on the dagga pipe are up and away in a flash, for not even when you're on cloud nine do you mess with Ollie.

The German international with the weather-beaten looks then turns to people occupying the seats reserved for his wife and kids, who were forced to sit on the steps.

Needless to say, one look from Ollie won the day for the old-fashioned football fan.

We need you, Ollie. There's a (2010) job waiting for you when you hang up your gloves at the end of the season.