Ray Hartley - The Big Fix: How South Africa Stole the 2010 World Cup

Who could doubt that sport is a crucial window for the propagation of fair play and justice? After all, fair play is a value that is essential to sport.

Nelson Mandela

On 27 May 2015, at a luxury hotel in Switzerland, the unthinkable happened. The plush world of the Fdration Internationale de Football Association (Fifa) abruptly imploded. In an investigation led by the US Department of Justice, Swiss police officers arrested several top Fifa executives and raided their suites, taking away boxes of documents and computer hard drives in the most serious criminal action ever taken against a sporting body.

The indictment before a grand jury in New York named 14 officials involved in an elaborate global web of corruption, kickbacks, bribery and fraud. It detailed how the body that governed the beautiful game had been burrowed hollow from the inside by the worms who occupied several key executive positions.

Lucrative media and branding rights for Fifas major tournaments had been bought with bribes paid through a string of foreign bank accounts in the US, Switzerland and the Caribbean. Officials had feasted on the sale of illicit tickets purloined from the governing body.

Presiding over all of this was Fifas president, Sepp Blatter, a man deemed to be untouchable, who could arrange to see a head of state as easily as if he himself were the head of a major power. Blatter inhabited a world of unsurpassed luxury and privilege, ferried about in limousines from one flattering host to another as he presided over the distribution of the greatest prize in world football the World Cup.

By the end of 2015, Blatters executive team had been dismantled as, one by one, his loyal lieutenants had been stripped of their powers and given their marching orders. Among them was his closest aide, secretary-general Jrme Valcke. Eventually, in December, Blatter himself fell victim to Fifas ethics committee and was banished from the organisations headquarters, in Zrich, from where he had ruled so ruthlessly.

Five years before this series of hitherto unimaginable events played out, Fifa had its last hurrah. Between 11 June and 11 July 2010, it held the World Cup tournament in South Africa.

And what a last hurrah it would be. When all the marketing spend, sponsorship and ticket sales had been tallied up, Fifa was richer than it had ever been, with over US$4 billion in the bank. Brazils 2014 spectacle was yet to come, but by then Blatter would be a beaten man and the writing would be on the wall for Fifas corrupt empire.

South Africa, it turned out, had been the perfect host country. Eager to please the world, it had more than bent over backwards for Blatter. Stadiums costing billions of rands had been constructed for the tournament, with little hope that they would ever recoup the money spent, never mind pay for their maintenance without taxpayer support.

Huge swathes were cut through South African law as acts and amendments were shuffled through Parliament, exempting Fifa and its sponsors from tax obligations, from foreign currency regulations and even from the local competition law, ensuring that the Fifa entourage would vacuum up every loose dollar on offer before leaving town.

The South African people, crazy about football, spent their savings on tickets and thronged to stadiums, ensuring that even the most trivial match between the most inconsequential of teams would be played before a cheering full house.

It was a time of national fever. The South African flag was flown from car windows and draped over car mirrors. Office spaces were adorned with strings of multinational flags representing the competing countries. Every Friday, the nation became a sea of yellow as replica jerseys of the national team, Bafana Bafana, were worn. Grave warnings were issued that only official merchandise was to be purchased. There were dollars to be made from these strips for sportswear companies and the officials who rode on their coattails.

The opening game at Soccer City was the scene of almost religious fervour. The stadium, designed to look like a giant African calabash, had risen Phoenix-like from the ashes of the old stadium where Nelson Mandela had addressed the people of Soweto on 16 December 1990, after his release from prison. I remember the heat that day as we sat in the stands. His final line was: Gird your loins for the final assault. Victory is in sight! As a united people no force on earth can defeat us!

After democracy was ushered in four years later, there was a return to international competition for South African sport, which had been isolated for many years because of apartheid. In 1996, I sat in the same stands to witness Bafana Bafana win the Africa Cup of Nations by defeating Tunisia 20.

On that opening day of the World Cup, played in a place so rich with history and before a people as free and loud as any in the world, football began its greatest party.

So exultant was the cheering and the blowing of vuvuzelas that when Bafana midfielder Siphiwe Tshabalala drove the ball into the corner of the net with a curving shot off his left boot, the stadium threatened to lift off the ground.

Even when Bafana were eliminated in the group stages the first time that this had happened to a host country the fervour remained undimmed. South Africans simply switched their support to Africas most likely champions, Ghana. And when the Black Stars were eliminated by Uruguay in the quarterfinals, the fans looked for their favourite league and club stars and supported their teams.

In my case, it was a no-brainer. As an Arsenal supporter, I had to go with Spain because of Cesc Fbregas, then still loyal to Arsne Wenger and the red and white strip.

I watched Spain beat Germany 10 at Durbans magnificent Moses Mabhida Stadium, its unique arch stretching high into the night sky as Carles Puyol headed home to secure Spain a place in the final.

Then came the final at Soccer City. Former president Nelson Mandela had missed the opening game due to a family tragedy his great-granddaughter Zenani had died in a motor accident after the opening concert. But, to the surprise of the fans gathered in the stadium, Mandela took to the field before the final in a golf cart, waving at the near-hysterical fans and beaming his trademark smile. For an old man mourning the death of his great-granddaughter and beginning to be plagued by the illnesses that would bring about his end, it must have been an enormous act of will to brave the chilly temperatures. It was to be the last occasion on which the public he adored and which adored him would see him in person.

The final was a bad-tempered affair. One red card was issued, but there could have been several more if the referee had applied the law properly. Eventually the artful dodger, Andrs Iniesta, secured Spains place in history with a goal in extra time.

The celebrations were loud and went on into the night.

And then the players, the foreign fans, the legions of reporters and the Fifa bigwigs left town and South Africans, who had been on their best behaviour for a month, returned to their normal ways.

The question that South Africans asked most frequently was why the organisation, efficiency and good cheer displayed by government, business and the people during the hosting of the tournament could not be applied to solving the countrys pressing problems getting water and electricity to the people, creating jobs and cutting down crime. The answers given were that we had a clear mission with clear timeframes, that there was national consensus and that we were being closely watched by Big Brother, Fifa, which would brook no slacking.