An Ode to the Raiders

A ragged bunch of mercenaries, battle-hardened warriors, drawn together from the far corners of the globe troop onto the field at the National University in Thu Duc District every Sunday in Saigon. A South African, a handful of British and Irish, Aussies, Scandinavians, Yanks and Europeans, all gleaming with the iridescent glow of sweat, toiling in the tropical heat or ubiquitous afternoon downpour, fighting for their pride, their fraternity, their band of brothers. Boots are laced up, shirts are pulled on and old war injuries strapped up as they enter the field of battle in high spirits. Staring down the opponents as the referee blows the battle horn. Commands and the call to arms are shouted from the stoic defence as speedy wingers and sharpshooting strikers take control, always against the odds, of a dire situation and slot goal after goal beyond the hapless and helpless opposition goalkeeper, and come out triumphant week after week.

Yes, it is the Saigon Raiders, the Saigon International Football League’s (once) premium football outfit.

Yes, that is one way to view these fine athletic specimens of sporting men. Another way would be looking at them as a dozen hungover, balding, aging expats chasing a round ball on a bumpy pitch in a foreign country, struggling with their weight and to keep their breakfast down. Haphazard defence tries to shore up errors from a midfield who have run half a sao (360m²) and couldn’t be bothered getting back to help their red-faced brothers. Strikers take potshots from 40 yards out and manage to put 2 metre tap-ins over the bar and blame it on poor passes. Arguments break out, either with themselves, their teammates, or the referee (oh, who would want to be a ref in a Raiders game!). Grown-ups act like children and stomp off, players fall over (dive) dramatically and howl in simulated pain, others try to decapitate the opposition with Cantona-esque flying kicks. A flurry of yellow and red cards are handed out, more shouting ensues. Litres of water are poured over simmering and steaming bodies amindst much coughing and spluttering. And that’s just the first half! Yes, the Raiders, languishing in mid-table of the SIFL for the past few seasons.

Yes, the Raiders! Oh, the multicultural team of my heart! How I love your fighting spirit, albeit sometimes amongst ourselves! How I love your witty banter and bold self-confidence! How I love our lack of aptitude and innate inability to score! Forward Raiders, as we sail our troubled ship towards the brighter tomorrow! May our crew steady the ship and trim the sail as we head towards the Arcadian shores of future pillage and success! I shall miss you (once I’m gone), Raiders of my heart.


A byword: If you’re interested in playing footy with the Raiders, as I’m sure you are after reading this glowing ode, let me know and I’ll hook you up!

Oh man

I had a student a few terms ago who, while most students would utter the inevitable troi oi when things went awry, just sighed resignedly and said: “Oh man.”

That’s how I felt after just watching the Asean Football Championship match between Vietnam and Thailand from the My Dinh National Stadium in Hanoi tonight. The first few minutes were bloody brilliant, the flares were burning bright leaving a red, misty glow over the grand stand, the stadium was rocking and even the commentators said they could hardly hear themselves speak. Tickets were sold out within half an hour of going on sales, fans queuing from five am the morning they went on sale and I thought; “Right, here we go, this is it.”

Bam bam, the opening skirmishes were intense, up and down the field. A few opportunities slipped through both teams hands…erm…feet. I was hopeful. It was truly frenetic football, reminiscent of South Africa’s Premier Soccer League - less skill then heart, but really entertaining stuff. Then Thailand scored on 28 minutes and my hopes faded with the waning enthusiasm of the 40 000-strong crowd. The first “oh man” of many rolled off my tongue.

Midfielder Minh Phuong took a great freekick towards the end of the half, but the drama-queen of a Thai keeper saved brilliantly to his right (only to roll around on the ground like epileptic headless chicken auditioning for a part in the D-Day scene from Shaving Ryan’s Privates for the first of many times). Vietnam even managed to win a contentious penalty but striker Phan Thanh Binh squeezed it past the right post. “Oh man” number three. Young Vietnamese footy superstar Le Cong Vinh, who’s like the sporting equivalent of Dan or Lam Truong, did show some moments of raw talent, African shibobo style, but just couldn’t finish the clear cut chance he got (he’d be right in any South African PSL team).

The second half started better, applying more intense pressure, but the Thai backline was made of kryptonite or something because the balls just bounced off them. Admittedly, Vietnam should have exploited the wings more, which was where my man of the match Bao Khanh and Cong Vinh were running their stinky red socks off, instead of playing up the centre channels the whole time, just to be blocked by the Thai Lex Luthoresque quartet. Thailand capitalised on a defending blunder and scored another goal half way through the second half. "Oh man" number six.

Towards the end the passes were just half-hearted, long balls played up to the two strikers, and the Thais easily regained possession, playing much more of a technical game. Vietnamese goalie Quang Huy was atrocious, his lack of skill matching the Thai goalie's aesthetically dramatic acting/time wasting ploys, which saw his astonishing, yet amusing headless-chicken-rolling-meets-the-tapdancing-frog-in-a-blender-slash-dying-drill-seargeant antics bordering on a full ten minutes.

I really feel for these guys - players and fans alike - after all, this is country is like my second home, but seriously, performances like this are going to keep Vietnam in 134th in the world, just above South Africa and Myanmar’s third team. They have the skill and talent, but it needs to be channelled and tapped in the right direction; the gung ho mentality needs to be balanced with some level-headedness and control. Oh man, good luck for the away leg in Bangkok this weekend.

TWTWTW

My favourite football website 4thegame.com – which is like the Bible of everything you ever need to know about team news and transfer rumours – has this weekly feature called That Was The Week That Was or TWTWTW. Once again let me indulge in flagrant vanity assuming somebody other then my parents want to know what I did this weekend, so here’s my personal That Was The Weekend That Was, albeit slightly shorter, less dramatic and with way less money involved then the Premiership version - I guess it would be appropriate to begin with football.

Saturday. The Acet Past Perfects debut in the Soccer for the Streets Charity Football tournament, losing their 0-game undefeated streak to Luat Viet Red Sun by 0-1…The Past Perfects then go on a losing streak by going down 0-1 to Maersk Vietnam…Past Perfects complete their dismal hatrick, succumbing to the superior buying power of the eventual tournament winners the Saigon Raiders 2-1 (think Chelsea versus East Putney Pioneers - haha you guys were lucky Jon), but making a good show of it, as Ian Boyle scores the Perfects first and only goal of the tournament…Café Latin invites a member of the Perfects to sample their quality Larue draught beer later the afternoon…The evening sees Le Pub host the official charity afterparty at which a few brave Perfect team members make an appearance…The party shows the form, spirit and unity that was lacking in the teams performance earlier the day…Café Latin invites back one member of the Perfects and his friend to enjoy the atmosphere of a lively rugby test match between South Africa and England which the Springboks win by 25-14…The evening ends on a high note as Go2 Café invites various late night partygoers to have a seat on their veranda as to enjoy the neon-lights and excitement of the bacpacker area all the while indulging in a fine vintage of Vietnamese rum…

Sunday. Monaco Café makes a bid for two South Africans teachers in a Bosman free transfer (by means of a greasy fry-up and copious amounts of liquid refreshment) in an attempt to lure them to have breakfast at their esteemed establishment…The ploy works…The previously-mentioned teachers move on to District 10 to enjoy a day in the VIP Lounge at the Saigon Horse Racing Club…Not as much money is won as is lost on the ponies who make up the first six races…The thoroughbreds are brought out for race seven and Chilli Thunder and Tung Shing, with odds looking good, finish one-two bringing in 10-1 at the bookies and make two teachers not so unhappy anymore…Maximark Cong Hoa finally makes known their interest in the foreign contingent by means of a well-stocked supermarket where ingredients for a classic South African bredie or stew are purchased…The stew is glorious and reminds them that they're going home in less than two weeks… That Was The Weekend That Was...pictures follow asap.

KZ Chiefs game cancelled

Woe! I just recieved this in my inbox:

"Due to unforeseen circumstances that have unexpectedly arisen, the SA Embassy has had to postpone the visiting Kaiser Chiefs friendly matches, until further notice. Your understanding in this matter will be appreciated."

I'm sure my understanding in the matter would be appreciated if you could let me understand what the reason behind the cancellation is? Sorry to all those planning to go watch the game, but you can contact Gita Kamal Sharda at the SA Embassy for more info.

Guess the shibobos will have to wait 'til later...

Kaizer Chiefs in Nam

I just recieved an email from the South African Consulate in Hanoi that the Kazier Chiefs' under 19 football team are playing two games up in the capital. How weird is that?

They're playing Hoa Phat Hanoi u20 today and ACB Hanoi u20 on Sunday. The first game's probably a bit short notice but anyone up in Hanoi who wants to see shibobos (aka nutmegs), tsamayas, sthendes (backheels) and for-damn-sure some African flair and bambaata should head off to the Hang Day Stadium. Match starts at 3 pm.

Holla 7 - show me your numba!

*Update: Sorry guys - I got the dates wrong (the banner is in Vietnamese so excuse the mistake) - it's the 30th November and 3rd of December so check it out if you can!

He's where?

I’m sorry for the lack of posts this week.

I wish I could say it’s because I’ve been putting the finishing touches on my cutting edge, Pulitzer Prize-winning, in-depth article for Newsweek about the Vietnamese Mafia and their plan to buy out three quarters of newly released stock in newly established foreign multinational corporations with Vietnam’s newly-found WTO status, and they’re plotting to flood the market with inflated shares, just to punctually burst the bubble and become the world’s next New World Order.

Or that the Acet Past Perfects have been driven to a secluded marshland in the middle of the Mekong Delta for last-minute training, including “bonding” ala Kamp Staaldraad (in other words leopard crawling naked through bloodsucking leeches-as-long-as-your-arm-infested swamps whilst being held at gunpoint at 4 am) and gone through a rigorous process of emotional strengthening in a hope to reach physical and spiritual enlightenment before the charity football tournament on Saturday.

But alas, I’m not gonna lie to you: I’ve just been working my ass off as usual. Will update substantially on the weekend.

Underdog status

Hmm, damn sports teams. I've always had a soft spot for the underdogs. When Bangladesh plays Australia in an one-day international, I always hope for an upset - and well, it happens sometimes as Bangladesh have proved. When the Bulls play the North-Free State mielieboere in their royal purple and yellow kits, my heart leaps when Yskas van Tonder or Dif du Plessis makes a break, on the off-chance that the "manne" from Hanover or Hobhouse, semi-professionals who do part-time work as reserviste, can pull one over the mighty Bulle.

It sucks however, when you make a habit out of supporting the underdogs as I have. Well, to be more honest and accurate, I never started supporting the teams because they were underdogs but because of the way they played their game and the passion of their supporters.

Western Province have never been true "underdogs" (except away at Loftus or at home in a semi-final against the Cheetahs) but the fans have never been a lot to bite their lip when things go awry - if Province aren't performing they'll let them know and the next game will be played to a half-empty stadium or less. Nevertheless, Province have always been a team that have tried their hardest to play attacking, running rugby, unlike certain other teams in blue who prefer stomping on their own players, and that alone is enough for me - effort to entertain. Besides this, I also live in the Western Province so I guess I couldn't change even if I wanted to.

Now Newcastle are a similar story. I've never lived on Tyneside and never even had a pint of Old Brown, but these guys have captured my heart from the moment they first started showing the Premiership on South African television. Form the heady, attacking football days under the management of Keegan, then Dalglish through the amorphic days of Gullit, the hope and glamour of Sir Bobby's reign, the abhorrent, better-to-be forgotten days of Souness, and the lacklustre period of soon-to-be-relieved-of-duty Roeder, it's been a rollercoaster ride through the whole spectrum of emotions for Newcastle fans - fans who, arguably are the most passionate football supporters in the world. It's tough supporting this team, with its lack of management clout and mercurial players (think Laurent Robert as a prime example).

Now McLaren. Ron Dennis' Formula 1 boys are similar to both Province and the Magpies in that they can be heart-wrenching to watch at the best of times and, just when I start to ponder my allegiance, along they come with moments of pure agression and racing brilliance from Kimi or Montoya and ponder no more. From Senna's days, they've been the team I've always admired in terms of not resting on their laurels and progressing the sport of F1 - always seeking new and exciting drivers and engineers who have similar aspirations. Things will be no different with the youngest double-world champion ever, Fernando Alonso, who clinched the title at Interlagos last night, joining the perennial underachievers next season. I've loved having Kimi at McLaren, but with him joining Massa at Ferrari next year and with Schumi retiring, I can't help but hope the Finn's bad luck and inconsistency in terms of reliability follow him to the Ferrari's paddock. Farewell Schumi, good luck Kimi and welcome Alonso - may the underdog status be enveloped and evaporated in the stinking vapour of your burning rubber and exhaust fumes.

Stompin' around

Hot diggidy dog
I'm a leaping frog

I'm a keen mean tiger on the back of a hog
Stompin' around

And I say, how rude is rude to you?

Fuzigish

So here's the evidence - decide for yourself what you will. Me? Well to me it pretty much looks like the ol' Captain Gary's giving Hougie a bit of a Southern Ska Stomper innie kortrib or shoulder, but hey, that's just me.