There's a Stadium Growing Outside My Window (updated version)

With the help of my sister Siobhan I updated this post and submitted it to The Irish Times for publication in An Irishman's Diary. Here's hoping! It's got more of an Irish feel now and sums up how I felt after Thierry Henry's infamous "instinctive reaction."

NOW WATCH THE VIDEO: (tx to Colin Cullis for all the graphics.)

I've always wanted to live beside a major sports stadium. I don't know what it is about big stadia but they've always done it for me. My first visit to any major stadium is imprinted on my mind. As a kid it was Dalymount Park, Croke Park and Lansdowne Road. I can recall the game, the weather, the sounds and the smells. In the 1970's the smell was always likely to be of cigarettes and wee and each stadium had a unique feel to it that was impossible to replicate.

Dublin capture the All Ireland at Croke Park 1976

Even today I get a thrill when I pass a major stadium. The best part about circling Heathrow is to see how many you can pick out from the sky. Craven Cottage, Stamford Bridge and Griffin Park (major?) are a given, but I've spotted those three, plus Wembley, Twickenham and The Oval in one holding pattern. In my student life I've lived within walking distance of Upton Park and Loftus Road. The challenge was to see how close to Saturday 3pm you could get before walking nonchalantly out your front door and still have time to buy a programme and a burger before kick-off.

As the years passed and I settled in South Africa, it soon became apparent that my life's progress would be measured in terms of how close to a major stadium I got to live. In Joburg I could just about hear the Rolling Stones playing at Ellis Park through my living room window. But that paled by comparison when I moved to Cape Town where I could sit on my patio and listen to Rod Stewart, Lionel Richie or the Indian Premier League from Newlands cricket ground. My living room was lit bright by the floodlights and the roar of the crowd rendered the two-second TV broadcast delay irrelevant.

Newlands cricket ground

This past year I have discovered the ultimate place to live. Unfortunately it's where I work. When I look out my office window I am privileged to see Table Mountain and the CapeTown Waterfront, but right smack bang in front of me is a vision the likes of which only a stadium junkie can truly appreciate. It’s called Cape Town Stadium.

Let me tell you now that this will be the abiding icon of World Cup 2010. And far beyond 2010 this is a place where any sportsperson or musician worth their salt will want to play.

Through my office window I've watched this giant rise from the earth. It’s a thing of beauty. From whatever point you sit in this stadium you will feel that you are actually playing with Kaka, Messi and Torres, and you’ll be close enough to shake the left hand of Thierry Henry.

My family at the construction site with the grandson of Robert Sobukwe, a legendary anti-apartheid activist.

It may have cost twice its original price tag to complete (a bone of contention to many Capetonians) but this place is going to repay that investment over and over again.

I visited Sydney last year and was secretly delighted when my tour guide told me that the Opera House exceeded budget by something like 1000%, took 12 years longer to build than planned, and was roundly ridiculed by most Sydneysiders. Today the Opera House probably brings in as much revenue to Sydney in one day as it cost to build.

When the final whistle goes in the World Cup Semi Final on 6th July 2010, Cape Town Stadium will already be an icon recognised around the world.

Of course the ultimate stadium needs the ultimate team to play in it and, for me that was to be Ireland. That was the whole point. From the moment South Africa was awarded the World Cup back in 2004 this was pure destiny. Ireland would miss out on Germany 2006 and Euro 2008 as a kind of purgatory designed to make our appearance at South Africa 2010 even more ordained. For God’s sake weren’t we building an entire stadium for them? Why wouldn’t they come?

Like the whole of Ireland I sat stupefied as the events of November 18th unfolded at Stade De France. But the tears only flowed some 12 hours later when I took a lunchtime drive and pulled up at Cape Town Stadium. We had built it, why weren’t they coming?

In Ireland you’ll be able to avoid the World Cup simply by skipping the sports page. In South Africa 2010 is not a year, it is the World Cup. We’ve been waiting like a neglected child for this chance to shine. So, any prospect of my calmly accepting Ireland’s fate and moving on is denied to me. It’s in my face every single day.

Plan B swings into action. I’m a devoted soccer fan and the kind of boring person who can tell you every World Cup winner, losing finalist and host nation since 1930. I’ve always wanted to go to a World Cup. Which is why when South Africa was awarded the World Cup in 2004, I told my then 9 year old son that we would take a road trip in 2010 to follow the event. I never got to the World Cup. It had come to me.

Six years later my son is a confident 15 year old, as excited about our road trip as I am. 16 matches, including the Final. 10 games in 10 days taking in all 10 stadiums. My 13 year old daughter is going to join us for half the games. The ultimate World Cup football fan’s dream.

Where does our road trip start ? At Cape Town Stadium of course, on June 11th. And guess who’s playing? France. We built it and look who came? I asked my kids if they’d be embarrassed if I wore an Ireland shirt and booed Thierry Henry. They said they wouldn’t mind at all.