ON THE MARK: Bafana's Afcon joy and heartache

I am not sure whether it is an achievement, or just life going round in circles, but I have arrived in a bustling, and suffocatingly hot Ivory Coast, for my 15th Africa Cup of Nations finals.

There is immense excitement and a little foreboding, as is always the case in the days leading up to kick off, and an expectation we could be in for some serious spills and thrills.

Certainly, the last finals in Cameroon delivered a string of giant killing results never seen before and emphasised the much-repeated assertion that the gap between the giants of the African game and so-called smaller nations has closed considerably.

I first went to the 1992 Cup of Nations in Senegal, in an era far removed from the spectacle the tournament is today. Then it had an air of a village fete about it. Several teams shared our Dakar hotel, and we breakfasted every morning outside by the pool with the players in circumstances that would cause today’s officious gatekeepers to recoil with unbridled horror. I even played tennis with Cameroon legend Roger Milla and, to this day when he sees me, the first things he asks is, “have you brought your racket?”.

Those were heady days, when South Africa’s delegation at the Confederation of African Football Congress, led by the colourful Stix Morewa, was greeted with a standing ovation as they sought re-entry into the world football family after the end of Apartheid. The Congress, where every member country was represented, always preceded the tournament and it was a heartfelt welcome as the continent anticipated an exciting new face in African football. Perhaps it has not been as fulsome an impact as we had then hoped but South African football has flexed its muscle from time to time.

Bafana Bafana first