Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Amazing wasn’t it? The most significant aspect of the opening days of the World Cup and one which caused both broadcasters and organisers the biggest headaches was nothing more than a cheap plastic trumpet.

vuvuzela

The thorny issue of the vuvuzelas and the cacophonous noise they made was first flagged up by our team on the ground about two days before the tournament began. They had attended a pre-tournament celebration parade in the middle of Johannesburg and had sent back several minutes of on the spot audio in which they had to bellow to be heard over the drone of the assembled crowd all blowing away with un-abandoned joy. They wondered out loud just what it would be like inside a stadium filled with several thousand of these rather odd instruments, all being blown at once and pondered just how the players would cope with the din, unable to hear calls for crosses or at times to be able to think clearly, so unrelenting was the noise they made.

In actual fact the concerns of the players, if they ever had any, swiftly faded into the background. They were nothing compared to the complaints of what for we broadcasters were the most important people of all – the listening audience. Because by and large they hated them.

First clues that something was amiss came in the opening couple of matches. Mixed in with the grumpy texts and emails about the fact that the online streaming had been shut off the moment the games got underway (rights issues sadly and out of anyone’s control) were the messages about the buzzing drone that at times cut through absolutely everything, even the commentators.

“Cannot stand to listen to this noise any longer – switching off”, appeared to be the main thrust of the messages. A knee-jerk overreaction perhaps but one which raised a problem that was almost unique in my professional experience. The noise of the crowd made the games almost impossible to listen to. It wasn’t just commercial radio that was bearing the brunt of the complaints either – listeners to the other side and viewers on television were almost unanimous in their demands: cut the nasty noise or we find something else to entertain ourselves with.

Now the glib response to such complaints would be to dismiss them as mere cultural ignorance. The noise of the vuvuzelas was far from unique to the World Cup after all. Taking them to games and tooting them throughout is as much a part of the culture of African football as scarves and synchronised chanting are in the UK and Europe. Anyone who watched the coverage of the African Nations Cup at the start of the year would have been instantly familiar with the sound of a million bees buzzing around the stadium. What we were witnessing at the World Cup was something perfectly normal to African football. The truly enlightened would surely have no problem with it at all.

Except that the World Cup is no ordinary football event. It is a sporting and cultural festival that attracts widespread mainstream coverage and an audience on radio and television that would not under normal circumstances sit down to enjoy the a game of football. The World Cup is as much an event for the casual fan as it is a hardcore appreciator of the game – and it was this casual audience that was in danger of being alienated by the noise of the matches themselves.

Consider for a moment just how the television companies must have reacted to this feedback. A game of live football, for so long an instant source of event-driven ratings and a more or less guaranteed source of popular entertainment was suddenly something of an audience turn-off. The assault on people’s ears was enough to ensure they were unable to enjoy the spectacle, unable to take in the game and most worryingly of all were actively indicating that they would rather switch off completely than endure it a moment longer. Even the more dedicated football supporters were rather perturbed. The truth of the matter for them was that the vuvuzelas were practically the only thing you could hear inside the stadium. The subtleties of crowd reaction, their willing on of their teams and their cries of disgust at a particularly bad error were all but drowned out. For many that made the ebb and flow of the game almost impossible to follow, regardless of the skill of the commentators.

So what the hell could broadcasters do? The BBC immediately hurried forward with a detailed technical examination of the noise, explaining just what the note was and what its harmonic range would be – and for that reason how hard it was to filter it out without losing some other more important audio detail. On the radio there wasn’t really all that much that could be done – I mean if you are commentating on a football game at a stadium then the noise you will hear will be whatever is in the stadium, there is simply no adequate way round it. When asked, my view was straightforward -  a commitment to bringing the audience the sights and sounds of the tournament extended to a full reflection of what was taking place in the stadiums and on the pitch itself. To tamper with that in any way, to try to pretend that something was not there when it clearly was would be absolutely unthinkable.

As it turned out, the fuss over the vuvuzelas appeared to be a one week wonder. Maybe we all got used to then and they faded into the background. Maybe the crowds just got bored of blowing them all the time – indeed it could be our imagination but the intensity of the noise appeared to rather die down once the group stages were over and South Africa in particular were eliminated. Could it be that when the new domestic season starts it will be a shock to the system to hear a football game without the noise of a thousand bees in the background? Time will tell – and any foolhardy souls breaking out their trumpets at Premier League games might find cause to regret that their instrument of choice is shaped in such a way that it can be fitted anally.

I’ll tell you one unexpected benefit the vuvuzelas did have though. During England games it was more or less impossible to hear the sodding England Supporters Band and their once every two minutes renditions of the Great Escape. For these small mercies we can all be thankful.

Oh yes – England. Now that is another story altogether.