The Towel

Only remembered to book my flight to Kumasi as the car wended its way to the Ohene djan stadium. Do I not like flying that much?

It's been hotter than usual today so maybe my brain was a bit more shrivelled than usual.

Watched Cote D'Ivoire dismantle a vapid Mali side. They looked so incapable against the Elephants.

And so it was 3-0. I thought after the match that the Ivorians are starting to ooze the sheen of champions. They simply beat the opponent. It's good to watch.

What wasn't good to observe was some of the so called journalists in the mixed zone;

Ever grateful to the players who stop and speak, the zones also double up as a place where mates greet and embrace and talk loudly over your interview. Best is the one where someone is so eager to ask a question they cut off the player's response.


Tonight a barechested Didier Drogba strolled through stopping to answer questions as his awesomely honed Ivorian trunk glistened under the lights.

He performed his functions with the French speaking journalists and just as he started to speak to the Anglophone pack, there was a surge and someone tried to take his towel.

Whether it was homoerotic adoration or not it was plain stupid and Didier trunk turned away in disgust. The fined muscled shoulders and the stitched abdomen barked: "I'm not a man for turning."

And so he left.

I'm not surprised the players are avoiding the mixed zone if that kind of thing happens. I never saw anything like that in Germany.

But things were organised there.