What if they held a World Cup and nobody scored?

After all their whinging about the ball, you’d think goalkeepers were getting a repetitive stress injury from turning around to fetch balls out of the back of their nets.

Couldn’t possibly be further from the truth.

This is shaping up as the lowest scoring World Cup ever held – by a wide, wide margin.

After today's Chile-Honduras match-up finishing at one-nil, there have been only 24 goals scored in 15 matches thus far.

That works out to a miserly 1.6 goals per match.

On average, the lowest scoring World Cup of all time was Italia ’90, when 2.21 goals per match were notched. That means we’re scoring at a rate only two thirds that of the worst pace in history.

And it's not like things should get better. With so many minnows (e.g. New Zealand et al) still in it with the big boys at this point, the first round is where you'd expect to find the baseball scores. But so far, we've had one four-goal game (Germany-Australia) and one three goal game (Brazil-North Korea). Every other match has been two goals or less.

For instance, four years ago in Germany, the first-round average was 2.37 per match.

(Ed. Note: With so much collision between myself and math in the last few paragraphs, there are bound to be several egregious basic arithmetic mistakes. I'm a product of the public school system, people.)

With classy Spain coming up against underwhelming Switzerland, maybe we'll finally see some sort of breakthrough.

According to casinobeacon.co.uk, the pre-tournament heavy money came in on a new goalscoring record – more than the 178 total scored at France ’98. Somebody was clearly listening to those goalie complaints.

Those who took that bet now look sure to lose. In fact, you can get 3-1 odds that less than 115 goals will be scored in all – a modern low.

Seems as if despite all the moaning, it’s the outfield players (Maicon and the Germans excepted) who are having the hard time of it.

C.K.

Predictions: Day 6

Honduras vs. Chile, 7:30 a.m. ET

Neither one of these teams have won a World Cup match in 48 years. Honduras scrapped their way into this tournament. Chile finished second in the South American bracket, only a point behind Brazil. They feature one of the most attractive, eye-catching attacks in world football. In a tournament still searching for its surprise package, this could be it.

Prediction: Chile 2, Honduras 1

Spain vs. Switzerland, 10 a.m. ET

Germany raised the style bar on all the other glamour sides with their opening 4-0 shellacking of Australia. Now the classiest team in the whole thing gets a chance to pick up that gauntlet. Fernando Torres won't start, but there's plenty of talent laid in behind him in the World Cup's deepest squad. The Swiss? After today, they should fall into the 'just happy to be here' category.

Prediction: Spain 3, Switzerland 0

South Africa vs. Uruguay, 2:30 p.m. ET

Here's the whole tournament. After a battling draw with Mexico in the first game and a final group game with France looming, the host nation needs a win to make advancing a reality. Uruguay looked beyond sluggish in their dreary opening draw. Skill's one thing. Heart's another. Look to the hosts to solidify their knockout round dream in Pretoria tonight. It's Youth Day here, the public holiday in remembrance of the 1976 Soweto uprising. All the more reason to figure Bafana Banafa get a lift.

Prediction: South Africa 2, Uruguay 1

Techno 1, Vuvuzela 0

PORT ELIZABETH

It was the day the vuvuzela died.

Hold back the cheers and the high-fives. This was just one vuvuzela, figuratively stuffed back down the throat of a drunken Aussie wedging me into the back corner seat of a minivan bus headed to Nelson Mandela Bay/Port Elizabeth Stadium.

On the World Cup trail, there are moments of disappointment and anger and happiness - and even elation, like this one, the driver turning the key in the Park 'n Ride shuttle from a local high school, the thumpingest, stomach-flippingest blast of Techno kicking in, shaking us all up and stopping the elephantine belch of this Mundial's most common, cursed and celebrated toy before it had barely started.

We're all bozos on this bus – World Cup bus, World Cup bozos – but we all agreed.

Everyone of the dozen of us – Portuguese supporters, the Aussie's friends, two Canadians - cheered as the blond Bruce drooped the vuvuzela to half-mast between his knees, nodding his head to the beats as the stadium coming into sight from above Techno 1, Vuvuzela 0. No extra time needed. I think he was happy too. Except for one thing. He turned to me, noted the media badge: “I have no tickets. Can you get me in the stadium?”

Explained: Why the vuvuzela bothers you so much

I have a theory. But you're not interested in why I think women do that thing with the thing, are you?

I have another theory - that the vuvuzela is worse on television than it is live.

Threw that theory out to Prof. Brian C.J. Moore, author of Introduction to the Psychology of Hearing. Unsurprisingly, his expertise is in high demand just at the moment.

Turns out, I'm right. Take that, grade-school disciplinary committee!

Prof. Moore sent me this answer, via email.

"When you are listening live, the noises generally come from a different location than the sounds you want to hear, which makes the sounds easier to segregate.

On TV, all sounds come from more or less the same direction, which makes it harder to segregate the announcer's voice from background sounds."

There you go. You're just going to have to come over here. Bring my mittens with you.

Sitting in the media centre at Ellis Park, ahead of Brazil/North Korea. 

The media centre is a large-ish tent. A large-ish frickin' freezing tent. Those who have them, are wearing gloves as they work. Everyone in parkas. 

I was worried earlier about getting a ticket (I'm on the wait list). Something tells me there are going to be a lot of warm-weather types who skip this one.

C.K.

Update: According to the local weather report, it is currently -1 C with the windchill in Jo'burg. That sounds generous to me. And it's 5 p.m. I shudder to think what it's going to be at the 8:30 p.m. kickoff. Literally.

Journos across from me trying to figure out how much, exactly, FIFA allows a player to wear, other than the kit. Yellow and green snowsuits? Expect all the Brazilians in those Gianluigi Buffon neck-warmers, at the least. 

Update @ 6:15: Windchill temps dropping steadily.

A short note on working the road. It's a lonely place for a married man. Well, it's a lonely place for most married men, including this one. 

Today, George Johnson of Canwest, who's been very happily married for 27 years, decided to do a little interior decorating in our  shared house.

Opposite George's bed is a lovely reproduction of a Modigliani painting. George says it has to go. Did I mention that it's a very fetching Modigliani reclining nude.

"I've only been here a week and it's already getting to me," says George.

Before Kickoff: Portugal vs. Ivory Coast

Drogba listed but not starting

Didier Drogba looking ready for action yesterday at Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium (FRANCISCO LEONG/AFP/GETTY IMIAGES)

PORT ELIZABETH

Drogba listed, but not starting, after FIFA approved a protective cast he is to wear over a broken bone in his elbow. Weather is cool, windy, sunny turning to clouds and possible rain later.

Ivory Coast:

Barry; K Toure (C), Tiene, Demel, Eboue; Zokora, Tiote, Yaya Toure; Kalou, Gervinho, Dindane

Portugal

Eduardo; Bruno Alves, Ferreira, Carvalho, Coentrao; Mendes, Raul Mereiles, Deco; Liedson, Danny, Cristiano Ronaldo

CY

Predictions: Day 5

New Zealand vs Slovakia, 7:30 a.m. ET

Now here's a hot ticket over in Rustenburg, site of the mother of all traffic jams before Saturday's England-US. Pretty good chance the roads will be clearer for this. Kiwis simply don't have the depth of talent to match the likes of Marek Hamsik and Stanislav Sestak as Slovaks compete in their first World Cup finals as an independent nation.

Prediction: Slovakia 2, New Zealand 0

Ivory Coast vs Portugal, 10 a.m. ET

Is this Elephants team over the top? Is Cristiano Ronaldo ever going to score an international goal again? Will Didier Drogba risk it? Remember the days when Sven-Goran Eriksson was a big name? Tough call here. So we split it.

Prediction: Ivory Coast 1, Portugal 1

Brazil vs North Korea, 2:30 p.m. ET “Inexperienced and mysterious” is how FIFA describes North Korea. It's similar to the hype around a China side that eight years ago travelled to South Korea's Jeju island, 20,000 Chinese fans along to videotape themselves watching Ronaldo and the lads destroy them 4-0. That sounds about right, except for the part about 20,000 travelling fans.

Prediction: Brazil 4, North Korea 0

- C.Y.

Closing doors. And losing heads.

Here's the thing about South African garage doors. Once they start coming down, they don't stop. 

They also weigh as much as a Patton tank.

If the back end of your car is hanging out of a Jo'burg garage and you accidentally put the door down, your Toyota is suddenly a pair of Smart cars. Neither of which work.

At Media Casa Canada, we have learned this the hard way. Mike Zeisberger of the Sun, who is a man of vertiginous dimensions, has already been struck on the head once. Today, I nearly decapitated him after we got home.

Another reminder of the (possibly understandable) paranoia that animates the middle-class here. Presumably, this is because  you might reasonably expect to be chased into your garage. 

The downside I can see is if you end up trapped inside your garage with an armed robber.

"Um. I can open this up again."

"No worries. I won't be here long."

When we got in tonight, there was a terrible, high-pitched alarm going off. Careful approaches to the house proper. Everybody hates interrupting a friendly home invasion.

Turns out that one of the frequent power outages here in Jo'burg had turned off the electric fence surrounding the house. Alarm going off to warn us that we were, in the parlance of security professionals, subject to high exposure.

People, I don't want to panic you - BUT WE HAD NO ELECTRIC FENCING FOR SEVERAL LONG MINUTES.

Paranoid? Me? Never.

C.K.

And one more whingy thing.

Another peculiarity of Jo'burgers is that they don't heat their homes - even in winter. During the day, it gets quite warm. But once the sun goes down - it's Winnipeg on wheels.

We were surviving by huddling together around the propane fireplace. The propane just ran out.

George Johnson of Canwest sitting across from me blowing on his hands and typing like Scrooge doing the books on Christmas Eve. Intermittently, he gets up and waves his hands over the oven, where all the elements on are on high.

Dalla Costa (Sun) and Young (Star) shivering in the rain in Cape Town. We just realized that we can strip their blankets and drape them over our own beds. Two sets of extra sheets. Three guys. Negotiations ensued. Actually, George found an oversized duvet in the closet and clutched to his chest like the Holy Grail.

"How can people live like this?" Zeisberger howls, Quasimodo-like.

Feel sorry for us yet? 

No? 

Don't blame you.

In Cape Town, but I gotta ask someone first to make sure

CAPE TOWN

It has gone from absolutely pouring rain overnight and into the morning to drizzle to patches of blue and then back to biblical deluge here in Cape Town ahead of tonight's Italy-Paraguay. That sort of steady Vancouver-style winter rain that is just another reference point that comes to mind in comparing this place to Johannesburg, where the sun is shining as the Dutch meets the Danes in Soweto's Soccer City.

Jo'burg is all hustle – Cape Town is laid back. Jo'burg sprawls – here, at least the downtown and waterfront area – is more compact. Jo'burg is urban and weathered – Cape Town is ocean and Table Mountain. Meantime, Robben Island is off in the distance almost obscured by the low clouds and rain. You can barely see it.

The view from Table Mountain overlooking Cape Town (AP Photo/Roberto Candia)

In the tourist waterfront area where my wonderful guesthouse manager Renate has volunteered to drop me off at, the original plan was to walk to the V&A Waterfront Hotel for the media shuttle to the stadium.
“Just around the corner,” said the helpful security guy, walking me and pointing.

“Just over the bridge and a little bit to the left,” said the guy around the corner, coming along to make sure then beckoning left.

“Over through that breezeway,” said little-bit-to-the-left guy (to the right of another guy, his mate, in the familiar yellow vests), the rain picking up now.

“Just through there,” said the guy outside the breezeway, pointing through an arcade.

This was getting fun. I was early, had lots of time, wanting to make the Dutch kickoff on TV.

Outside the arcade, I ask a couple more security guys.

“Just around that corner.”

And finally, I'm standing in front of a grey building. I need a wet suit if I'm out here any longer, back in front of the other side of that arcade.

“You're right in front of it,” the next one says, “But the stadium's right over there. Just cross the street, bear left and you're there.” Oh. Now you tell me. Ten minutes later – yeah, more directions, but at least now I can see the stadium – I'm here. Soaked, but happy.

This reminds me. This morning I spent 45 minutes turning my room upside down looking for my passport. Called last night's driver Yusuf who brought me in. Went down and asked Renate, and searched the kitchen/office and breakfast room of the guest house. Went back and turned the room over again. Getting sweaty now, with visions of a trip to the Canadian consulate - do they accept a FIFA media badge at airport security? Picked up the laptop loaded down with two notebooks, a power card, a pen, a blue manila folder stuffed with bumph. Hmmm. Lifted up the notebooks - and of course there it was.

Directions? I need them to get around my room.

As for the World Cup fever, I guess it's too early. Or they're out getting directions. Expect it will pick up later – locals partied hard all day Friday at the fan parks around town for Green Point Stadium's first game, Uruguay-France in a 0-0 thriller. Well, it got under-better Perkins laughing and scratching, anyway.

Your morning smile: Today's daily email from 442 magazine notes that some outfit called “Championship Manager” has Italy beating Argentina 1-0 in the final. I wouldn't bet that, but I'd certainly book it.

No Toronto, but there's Vancouver. And in case you're wondering, the South Pole is 6131 km away from Green Point Stadium.

Me and my new six-legged friends

Forget about the trip. It's getting there that's the full dose of the fun here.

A little adventure on the way in this morning. First, ran afoul of a FIFA convoy on the highway in. They were passing with a flashing police escort as I merged into traffic. 

It might've been nice if they'd let us in - because we had nowhere else to go. Instead, my car and the three ahead of me were driven up over a curb and onto the shoulder, where we nearly ended up in a fiery wreck. Thanks. Thanks for that.

After my brush with death, happily got out of the car a few minutes later to board the media shuttle into Soccer City. A nice, relaxing hour-long ride through downtown Jo'burg.

A couple of German journalists sitting beside me. I gave one of them my newspaper - the local broadsheet, The Star. He starts flipping through and then begins to grumble in German.

"What?"

"The match report," he says, and then reads the headline. "'German blitzkrieg too much for Aussies.' Always with blitzkrieg. Bah."

Nice one. I lay back and try to relax. Then I see something crawling up the seat in front of me. A cockroach. I brush it off the seat. A couple of minutes later, another cockroach. Now the German behind me is leaping in the air and cursing. The bus is infested with cockroaches. It's also infested with people. So there's nowhere to go.

For the next half hour, I'm jumping out of my seat every time I feel a tingle. I'm still shaking out my pant legs. 

I have to get back on that bus in a three hours. I think I'll light myself on fire first.

C.K.