17 hours ago
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When someone like Wayne Rooney speaks, people listen.
That’s the reality of the modern game. Big names carry big weight. Their words travel fast, land hard, and often become accepted truth before anyone stops to question them.
So when Rooney recently described the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa as “the worst” or “boring”, it didn’t just stay as an opinion. For many, it became the opinion.
And that’s where the issue lies.
Because perspective is powerful, but it’s also limited. Rooney experienced that World Cup as a player, inside a very specific bubble. Training grounds, team hotels, matchday routines, the pressure of performance, and ultimately, the disappointment of England’s early exit. That shapes how you see a tournament.
But it is not the full picture.
And when you speak from that position, there’s a responsibility to understand the difference.
I had the good fortune of being there too, not as a player, but as a FIFA media officer. I was based in Polokwane and Nelspruit, working alongside UEFA’s Jochen Steinhoff, who is now FIFA’s head of media services and operations. Different role, different access, different experience.
And I can tell you this plainly:
.
It was different. Yes. But different doesn’t mean lesser.
Let’s start with context.
South Africa 2010 was historic. It was the first senior FIFA World Cup on African soil — a milestone not just for the continent and Nelson Mandela but for global football. And while it wasn’t the first FIFA tournament hosted in Africa — I had been in Nigeria for the U-17 World Cup and Egypt for the U-20 World Cup that same year — this was on an entirely different scale.
This was the world arriving in Africa.
And Africa responding. Now, was it the same as Germany 2006? No. I was there with our national team. That tournament had a unique energy, fan movement, and European accessibility that made it feel like a month-long street festival.
Was it like Brazil 2014? Again, no. Brazil is football culture on steroids — music, colour, late nights, and emotion on every corner.
South Africa was something else.
It was a winter World Cup. That alone changed the dynamic. The nights were colder. The vibe wasn’t built around late-night street parties or packed city squares in the same way. Travel between venues was longer. Distances mattered more. But within that, there was something special.
I remember the landscapes, driving into Polokwane, seeing the terrain shift, and the open space, and the stillness before matchdays. Nelspruit had its own character too. These weren’t your typical football cities, but that was part of the experience. It forced you to see a different side of the host country.
Teams at my venues were Argentina with Diego Maradona as head coach and Leo Messi; defending champions Italy; Mexico; France; and Ivory Coast, among others.
The stadiums were modern, striking, and well-run. The organisation, from a media operations standpoint to logistics and general operations, was strong. Systems were in place. Access was structured. There was pride in delivery.
But more than anything, it was the people.
South Africans embraced that World Cup with a genuine sense of ownership. You felt it in the volunteers, in the local staff, in the everyday interactions. There was a quiet pride, not always loud or flamboyant, but present.
And then there was the sound.
The vuvuzelas. For some, they were unbearable. For others, they became the defining soundtrack of the tournament. But what they represented was something deeper — a cultural stamp. A reminder that this wasn’t a copy-and-paste World Cup. This was Africa hosting, in its own way.
And that matters.
Because when we talk about global football, we can’t expect every tournament to feel the same. Diversity of experience is part of what makes the World Cup what it is.
Even on the pitch, the tournament had its moments.
Spain’s rise to their first World Cup title. Ghana is carrying the hopes of a continent and coming within a penalty of a semi-final spot. Uruguay and France’s drama. Germany’s fluid, attacking football.
It wasn’t devoid of quality. It wasn’t empty.
It was just different in tone. And maybe that’s the point.
Sometimes, when an experience doesn’t match expectations, we label it negatively. Especially in football, where emotion runs high and memory is often tied to results.
England didn’t perform. That’s a fact. And for players involved, that colours everything around the tournament. The environment, the energy, the overall feeling.
And this is where responsibility comes in.
Because when figures of influence speak, their words shape narratives. They influence younger fans who didn’t experience those tournaments. They create perceptions that can overshadow reality.
And when we talk about Africa in football, that responsibility matters even more. Because for a long time, we’ve admired what the continent brings to the game — talent, identity, resilience, style. Africa has its place. It always has. And now, with ten teams set to feature at the 2026 FIFA World Cup, the world is once again waiting to see that impact unfold on the biggest stage.
It’s easy to say something was “the worst”.
It takes more awareness to say, “It wasn’t my experience, but I understand it meant more to others.”
That balance is important.
Especially in a game that belongs to so many different people. From players to fans. From media officers to volunteers. From locals who hosted to visitors who travelled across the world.
We all experience football differently.
And all of those perspectives matter.
South Africa 2010 wasn’t perfect. No World Cup is.
But it was significant. It was unique. And for many of us who were there — working, observing, living it day by day — it was a tournament that left a lasting impression. Not because it tried to be like the others. But because it wasn’t. And sometimes, that’s exactly what makes something special.
Editor’s note
Shaun Fuentes is the head of TTFA Communications. He was a FIFA media officer at the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa and the 2013 FIFA U-20 World Cup in Turkey. He has travelled to over 90 countries during his journey in sport. “Pro Look” is his weekly column on football, sport, culture and the human side of the game. The views expressed are solely his and not a representation of any organisation. [email protected]
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