Liam Brickhill: Henry Olonga and Andy Flower make a stand | Cricket Features | World Cup Timeline | ESPN Cricinfo Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Comment It was a defining image of the 2003 tournament: two players, one black, one white, risking their lives and careers by wearing black armbands to protest injustice None of the other players in Zimbabwe's World Cup squad were in the know about Henry Olonga and Andy Flower's protest © PA Photos At 9.30am on February 10, 2003, politics and sport in Zimbabwe came crashing together. It was the morning of the first World Cup match Zimbabwe had ever hosted , against Namibia. A historic occasion, though history has remembered it for reasons other than cricket. The actions of two men - Henry Olonga and Andy Flower - broke the false levy that had protected cricket in Zimbabwe from its wider context. Like Tommie Smith and John Carlos' Black Power salute at the 1968 Olympic Games, images of Flower and Olonga's black-armband protest have come to define the 2003 World Cup for many Zimbabweans.

The pair wore their armbands in every World Cup game they played, starting with the match against Namibia. They also released a statement to explain their actions, saying: "In doing so we are mourning the death of democracy in our beloved Zimbabwe. In doing so we are making a silent plea to those responsible to stop the abuse of human rights in Zimbabwe. In doing so, we pray that our small action may help to restore sanity and dignity to our nation." The potent symbolism expressed by them, one black cricketer and one white, immediately gripped the nation and elevated the emotional intensity of Zimbabwe's World Cup campaign. The black-armband duo was, in fact, a trio. Olonga and Flower met with David Coltart, a lawyer and one of the founding members of the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) party, as they planned their protest. Coltart, who would later become Zimbabwe's Minister of Sport, was (and remains) a keen follower of Zimbabwean cricket. He helped the cricketers draft their statement, and came up with the idea of using black armbands to symbolise their protest.

February in Zimbabwe typically marks the tail-end of the rainy season, and though the rains had failed over much of the country in the preceding months, an armada of fluffy clouds rolled gently over Harare Sports Club as Zimbabwe motored past Namibia in rather less graceful fashion. Inside the press box, events with ramifications far beyond the tree-lined rim of Harare Sports Club were taking place. Despite the political turmoil that had gripped the country since the turn of the millennium, Flower and Olonga's protest took the assembled sporting press very much by surprise, myself as much as anyone. Probably more so, as I was a 19-year-old rookie journalist at my very first international cricket match, and a little too excited just to be there. I was writing for the Morning Star, a left-wing London rag. It was tanks rolling into Baghdad on their front page, and yours truly reporting from the World Cup on the back.

Flower and Olonga didn't ruin Zimbabwe's World Cup party; the circumstances in which the event took place meant that this would always be a time of sorrow, rather than celebration, for Zimbabwe That morning, as I busied myself with at least trying to look like a real journalist, even if I wasn't one just yet, the more grizzled hacks were absent-mindedly filling their cups of coffee, thumbing through the morning papers or glancing at the team lists of the Zimbabweans and somewhat anonymous Namibians. When copies of Olonga and Flower's statement were placed matter-of-factly in front of each journalist present, the mood in the press box immediately intensified. Coffee sputtered out of nostrils, phones began to ring, and fingers started tapping frantically at keyboards. The months and weeks leading up to the tournament had been filled with lengthy political machinations and debate, both within Zimbabwe and related to the country's cricket. There had been an election in 2002, the result of which was deemed "free and fair" by African observers but questioned by the international community.

Dikgang Moseneke and Sisi Khampepe, two South African high court judges, released a report on their observations of the elections, but it was swiftly buried and didn't see the light of day for another 12 years. The land invasions of white farms, which began in 2000, continued and had resulted in several deaths. The treason trial of Morgan Tsvangirai, the leader of the opposition MDC, started a week before the tournament. The minds of many Zimbabweans were, understandably, elsewhere, and it was hardly an ideal time to co-host an international sporting event. All this combined to spook the ECB and the England cricket team, with plenty of to-ing and fro-ing over whether they would play Zimbabwe at the tournament, but precious little decisive action. Despite all the brouhaha, no one saw Flower and Olonga's protest coming. Indeed, before the World Cup, Flower had been asked what he thought the biggest surprise might be in the weeks to come and answered cheekily: "If England were to beat Zimbabwe." Heath Streak , Zimbabwe's captain at the time, suggested that not even those closest to Flower knew what he was planning.

"I don't even think his brother knew," said Streak. "We came out from the warm-up [before the Namibia game] and I remember seeing the manager and the coach and Henry and Andy sitting in the corner, and I realised there was a problem." Death threats forced Henry Olonga to migrate to England, where he took his music career forward © Reuters "I never picked it up," added Tatenda Taibu. "I played and everything. The other guys were chit-chatting, saying, 'That's quite brave.' I was like, 'What are they talking about?' I didn't even know. If they did tell everyone in the dressing room, I was not there." Zimbabwe's next match was scheduled to be against England on the day before Valentine's, but as it turned out, England never showed up. After an alleged death threat from a group called the Sons and Daughters of Zimbabwe (a clique no one had heard of before, and which has not been heard from since), it was decided by the ECB that concerns over player safety were significant enough for the match to be cancelled, albeit at the 11th hour.

In a politically chaotic tournament Australia - who had cancelled their tour of Zimbabwe in 2002 over the threat of danger after the elections - went against government advice, and supposed safety concerns, to play their group match against Zimbabwe in Bulawayo , while New Zealand withdrew from their fixture against Kenya in Nairobi due to what a New Zealand Cricket statement called a "tangible terrorist threat" and "active terrorist organisations" in the city. Media attention after Flower and Olonga's protest escalated rapidly, the spotlight helping to keep the pair safe amid the repressive power structures in the country. All the same, Jonathan Moyo, the Minister of Information, labelled Olonga an "Uncle Tom" with "a black skin and a white mask", and he was immediately dropped from the playing XI. An attempt to drop Flower was thwarted only by the threat of a full-scale player boycott. Takashinga Cricket Club issued a scathing statement about their (former) player, Flower, and Ozias Bvute, an official in the Zimbabwe Cricket Union personally kicked Olonga off the team bus. Both players were slapped on the wrist by the ICC, which asked them not to repeat their protest.

The reaction of the general cricket-watching public was in stark contrast, with near universal support for the cricketers. At Zimbabwe's next match, against India , a smattering of spectators turned up with black armbands of their own. When nothing happened to them, the trend quickly spread and in Bulawayo, where Zimbabwe played Australia , some even turned up with placards decrying the social and political crisis in the country. Emboldened, several of the players within the Zimbabwe camp considered joining Flower and Olonga in protest, and possibly even boycotting one of their matches outright in order to make a statement. Not among their number was Guy Whittall, a rakishly charming, laid-back figure both on and off the field. Whittall had battled form and fitness issues to force his way back into Zimbabwe's side for the World Cup. On the wrong side of 30, with a gammy knee, Whittall knew that he'd soon be retiring from sport to help run his family's game ranch, and all he wanted was a quiet, dignified exit from the game. "These guys came to me and started talking about not walking onto the field tomorrow," remembers Whittall.

"'We're going to wear our black armbands.' I said, 'Whoa, whoa, whoa. This will come with all sorts of threats. Let's just get on and enjoy our last few games. Let's finish this thing.'" Zimbabwe did take the field that day. The Flower brothers shared their last significant stand in international cricket, driving, dabbing and sprinting their way to a partnership of 84 in 20 overs. Andy's incandescent celebration upon reaching his fifty, tearing off his helmet and gesturing expressively up at the players on the balcony, showed just how pumped up he was. Thanks to the four points Zimbabwe gained from England's forfeit, Zimbabwe needed at least two points from their fixture against Pakistan to progress to the Super Six. The 2003 World Cup provided the grand stage for the first battle in the war over the soul of cricket in Zimbabwe The rain, absent for so much of the early season and now apparently making up for lost time, helped them achieve that, but Zimbabwe's "victory lap" after their sodden qualification was more apologetic than triumphant, and their second foray into the Super Six in as many World Cups was not a happy one.

The second stage of the tournament was played entirely in South Africa, where Nathan Astle's century bettered Heath Streak and Sean Ervine's blitz against New Zealand, and Zimbabwe had no answer to a Kenyan side brimful of enthusiasm, capitulating for 133 . That game marked the end of Olonga's and Alistair Campbell's international careers, while Flower played his final match against Sri Lanka in East London . He was shotgunned by an umpiring decision on 38, given out lbw despite a massive inside edge, and Zimbabwe's World Cup whimpered to a close with his departure, as the next six wickets fell for just 42 runs. It was a sad day for Zimbabwean cricket, and a melancholic end to the career of the best player ever to pick up a bat for them. After the Sri Lanka match, a rumour began to circulate that agents from Zimbabwe's feared Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO) had arrived in the city looking for Olonga, and he was quickly taken to a safe house. Whether or not the rumour was true, his caution was apt. Things happen to people in the custody of the CIO.

Security agents once turned up at my university in Grahamstown in South Africa, looking for a Zimbabwean student who had organised a march to protest the violence of the 2008 elections. Being in South Africa does not mean certain safety. A couple of weeks later, death threats forced Olonga to leave for England. Flower had already secured a contract with Essex. Both were given honorary life membership of the MCC later that year. Whittall also retired after the World Cup, while Campbell and Brian Murphy also never played for Zimbabwe again. On March 3, the day before Zimbabwe qualified for the Super Six, Coltart found that a rear tyre of his car had been sabotaged (some months earlier his car's brake linings had been cut). On the morning of March 15, the day Zimbabwe's World Cup campaign ended against Sri Lanka, Coltart noticed a vehicle with three men and what appeared to be a weapon outside his home as he left with his nine-year-old son and 18-month-old daughter. The car followed him at speed before his security team caught up with them, when the mysterious car gave up the chase and left. Coltart went into hiding for two weeks.

The rebel crisis, a year later, was the apocalyptic event in Zimbabwean cricket, and 2004 marks Year Zero for the current team and the game as we know it in Zimbabwe. Yet, the 2003 World Cup provided the grand stage for the first battle in the war over the soul of cricket in Zimbabwe. The world has turned through two World Cups since 2003. It was a long time ago - in cricketing terms, a full generation. It wasn't until 2014 that the Khampepe Report on Zimbabwe's 2002 election, which suggested that the election was neither free nor fair, was made public. The results of that election still ripple through Zimbabwean society today, and nor is Zimbabwean cricket free from the turmoil that has gripped it for more than a decade. Politics and sport had been mixed into a sour broth in the years preceding the World Cup. Flower and Olonga didn't ruin Zimbabwe's World Cup party; the circumstances in which the event took place meant that this would always be a time of sorrow rather than celebration for Zimbabwe.

But they were presented with a chance to change their sport, and perhaps even their country, for the better, and they took it. Was it worth it? "We can't all change the world, but if we all do little things along the way and make the most powerful decisions we can then I think we can bring about change," Flower told the BBC in 2013. "Would I do it again? Given the same circumstances, without a doubt, yes." Play 04:25 The Soccer World Goes to South Africa: Sport and the Making of Modern Africa | Origins: Current Events in Historical Perspective Current Events in Historical Perspective Russell Field Soccer fans, painted in the colors of South Africa's flag, celebrate the coming of the 2010 FIFA World Cup to South Africa. On June 11, one of the world's premier sporting events began its month-long pageant with considerable historic significance for the host nation, especially in terms of its fraught relationship between sport, race, and social justice. Editor's Note: Will the stadiums be ready? Will they be full? Will spectators and tourists be safe?

These are the questions dominating media coverage as South Africa prepares to host the world's largest single-sport event, the 2010 soccer World Cup. The appearance in Africa for the first time of the highest profile competition in the world's most popular sport has people asking just what economic and social benefits sporting events offer a country, and whether hosting a month-long soccer tournament should be a high priority for the government in Pretoria. This month, historian Russell Field examines the larger racial and class debates that swirl around sport in South Africa, and the important role that sport played in the liberation movements and anti-apartheid efforts of the 1960s to 1990s. The significance of sport has not been lost on a new generation of leaders in the post-apartheid democracy. Today South Africa seeks to realize the developmental and diplomatic benefits of sport and assert their leadership of what former President Thabo Mbeki called the 'African Renaissance.' For more on the recent history of Africa, read these articles on the Darfur Conflict , Piracy in Somalia , Violence and Politics in Kenya , and this 1994 Origins article on South Africa at the end of Apartheid .

Readers may also be interested in these Origins articles on sports: the Politics of the Olympics and the 1994 Fifa World Cup in the U.S. Feel free to also listen to our History Talk conversation on The Politics of International Sports . UPDATE: This article was updated on July 8 2010 ( click here to read the update ) In 1990, the landmark release of Nelson Mandela from prison began the dismantling of South Africa's infamous apartheid regime, with its white minority rule and harsh racial segregation, and led to the country's first multi-racial elections four years later. With the end of the race-based political system, the newly elected President Mandela turned to sport as a way to begin healing the country. Dramatized in the 2009 Clint Eastwood film, Invictus, Mandela sought to use the 1995 rugby World Cup, hosted by South Africa, to unite his country behind the success of the national team. Unexpectedly, the home squad provided just the opportunity he was hoping for.

South Africa's "Springboks" defeated the heavily favored New Zealand "All Blacks" in the final, in front of 65,000 spectators at Johannesburg's Ellis Park. Today, this event is remembered as a beginning moment of reconciliation in South Africa—most stunningly symbolized when Mandela appeared at the final match wearing a green-and-gold Springboks jersey, an emblem of the very apartheid regime that had imprisoned him—and also of the re-admittance of South Africa to the international community. To many, winning a rugby tournament might seem to have little diplomatic or social importance. But sport was one of the most visible avenues through which the international community responded to the all-white National Party government in Pretoria. South African teams had been banned from international sporting competition during the last decades of the apartheid regime. With segregated sports and international boycotts during much of the 20th century, sport in South Africa has rarely been solely about playing games. And the questions of race, of economic development, and of social justice have never been far from any discussion of sport. This year is no exception, as South Africa prepares to host the highest profile event of the world's most popular game.

Soccer fans throughout the world will spend the northern summer glued to their television sets as the world's largest single-sport event, the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) World Cup heads to South Africa. Sport and the Anti-Apartheid Movement Throughout South Africa's 20th century, sport served as a focal point for the apartheid regime to impose its racist order on the nation and to insist on that order internationally. As a consequence, sport also generated some of the most high-profile—and occasionally violent—anti-apartheid action around the world. Concerns over South African racism were first raised in the early 1930s. The 1934 British Empire Games (the precursor to the today's Commonwealth Games) were awarded to Johannesburg, but had to be shifted to London to assuage the concerns of some the empire's dominions over the "colour question." But it was the election of the National Party in 1948 and the introduction of racial segregation laws that institutionalized apartheid—which lasted officially from 1948 to 1994—that brought the issue of international cooperation with South Africa, both within and beyond sport, into stark relief.

In the mid-1950s, T.E. Dönges, minister of the interior, announced that the government would assist Africans in participating in sport, but that their participation "must accord with the policy of separate development," effectively ensuring that racially based sport was a state-mandated policy. Practically, such a policy meant a prohibition of racially mixed sport, fewer resources for African athletes compared to their white counterparts, and little opportunity for black athletes to represent their country internationally. The National Party's apartheid policies raised red flags throughout international sport offices and, just as importantly, gave anti-apartheid activists a new platform for protest: sport. The major international sport bodies acted, albeit slowly. When their calls for representative athletic teams were rejected, they moved to suspend and then expel South Africa. Olympic sports were controlled by the South African Olympic and National Games Association (SAONGA), which was all-white and upheld the policy of racial segregation. Non-white athletes and officials, led by Dennis Brutus, responded by forming the South African Sports Association (SASA) in 1958. A year later, SASA raised with the IOC the issue of racial discrimination in South African sport.

When these protests did not succeed, SASA formed the South African Non-Racial Olympic Committee (SANROC), with the goal of replacing SAONGA as the country's representative Olympic body. By 1966, both SASA and SANROC leadership had been forced into exile in London and Brutus had been imprisoned on Robben Island, in the cell next to Mandela. The South African government, through its IOC member, Reginald Honey, argued that "apartheid was an internal matter which did not concern the IOC." Eventually, however, the IOC insisted upon reforms. When these conditions were not met, the IOC banned South Africa from the 1964 Tokyo Games. A similar process took place leading up to the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, as African nations banded together to oppose apartheid sport. In April 1968, the IOC withdrew its invitation to South Africa to compete in Mexico City and in 1970 formally expelled South Africa from the IOC. Similarly, the all-white Football Association of South Africa (FASA) was suspended by FIFA in 1961.

The suspension was temporarily lifted in 1963, but re-imposed a year later for the duration of the apartheid regime. South African players did not return to international soccer until 1992, the same year that the South African athletes returned to the Olympics in Barcelona. The decisions by FIFA and the IOC, however long in coming, had effectively banned South Africa from international sport because of its apartheid politics. But there were sports beyond their reach, namely rugby and cricket, the most popular sports among the country's white minority. It is to these sports that anti-apartheid activists both within South Africa and elsewhere next turned their attention. Protests focused not only on the white South African teams, but also on those nations willing to host South Africa for rugby and cricket matches: Australia, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom. These protests, from the late-1960s into the early-1980, often turned violent. But they galvanized public opinion and succeeded in having a 1973 rugby tour by the Springboks canceled by New Zealand authorities. Even under the Olympic and Commonwealth banners, protestors focused on those nations continuing to compete against South Africa.

Twenty-six African nations, plus Guyana and Iraq, boycotted the 1976 Montreal Olympics over New Zealand's attendance, while the 1978 Commonwealth Games in Edmonton were similarly threatened. [ Click here to read more on Olympic Protest Movements ] Soccer and Race in South Africa Given the prominence of sport to the liberation struggle, it should come as no surprise that the leaders of post-apartheid South Africa returned to sport—specifically by hosting global sporting mega-events—to promote both internationally and domestically a vision of the modern, multi-racial "Rainbow Nation." This effort started with Mandela and the 1995 rugby World Cup, but has also included the 2003 cricket World Cup, the return of the 2007 rugby World Cup, and an offer at the last moment to host the 2009 season of Indian Premier League (IPL) cricket when security concerns forced the event out of south Asia.

(Their bids for the 2004 Olympics (in Cape Town) and the 2006 FIFA World Cup were turned down.) Yet, for all this focus on big sporting events in general, the fact that this summer's World Cup is a soccer tournament is far from inconsequential. All sports in South Africa have been racialized—and "the racial divide," notes journalist Alec Russell, "often appears more entrenched now than in 1995." White players occupied 14 of the 15 places on the 1995 rugby team Mandela used to promote racial bridge-building. Yet when South Africa hosted and again won the rugby World Cup 12 years later the makeup of the team had only shifted to 13 out of 15 of the players being white. Yet, if rugby has been white South Africa's game, soccer is black South Africa's game. As journalist Christopher Merrett notes, from the early-20th century, soccer "undemanding of space and economical of time, became symbolic of African urban life." This racial distinction is made clear in the film, More Than Just a Game, and the book of the same title.

This powerful South African docudrama tells the story of political prisoners who were jailed under the apartheid regime in the 1960s on the infamous Robben Island prison. The prisoners created and ran their own soccer league on the island as a way to be both physically and politically active, resisting incarceration through their passion for the "beautiful game." Current South African President Jacob Zuma was a referee in the league, the Makana Football Association, which was granted honorary membership in FIFA in 2009. Economic Development, Infrastructure, and the Promises of the World Cup If sport in South Africa has been highly racialized, the World Cup also highlights how global sport connects with economic development and social justice. On a day in early May 2010, with the opening of the World Cup barely a month away, President Zuma was in Durban to open a tourism trade show. Zuma's five decades in public life have been marked by hardship and oppression. A longtime member of the African National Congress (ANC), he survived a 10-year sentence at Robben Island to see the end of apartheid and rise to lead—although not without considerable political and personal controversy—the South African republic.

This day, the sufferings of apartheid seemed a faint memory. Of greatest concern for those who crowded in to see the President was the World Cup's impact on the domestic tourist industry and the readiness of the nation to host the event. "South Africa," the President confidently assured the delegates, "is ready for the World Cup." Behind Zuma's predictably confident statements about tourism, however, other debates are raging about racial inequality, poverty, and this greatest of all soccer pageants. In a country facing serious issues of economic hardship and crime, many around the world are questioning the use of South Africa's precious resources to host a month-long soccer tournament. Will it bring, they wonder, promised economic opportunity and a new international face for South Africa across the globe? What does South Africa hope to gain from investing in a soccer tournament? In South Africa, where nearly eighty percent of the country's more than 49 million people are African, soccer is, to be sure, a vastly popular game. But generalizations are challenging in such a diverse country. There are eleven national languages, nine of which are African, and English (13.3%) and Afrikaans (8.2%) are the primary languages of less than one-quarter of the population.

Even the 9.1% of the population that is classified as "white" is marked by cultural and class differences between Anglo- and Boer-descendants. Nearly half of the country lives in poverty, surviving on less than 322 Rand per month (today less than $43 USD). Poverty is not surprisingly accompanied by one of the world's higher incidences of violent crime and, as in virtually all of sub-Saharan Africa, the challenge of HIV/AIDS. Over 5.7 million South Africans are infected with HIV, a disease most prevalent in women 25-29 and men 30-34. Analysts of "mega-events" argue that hosts pursue these events in an effort to realize some generally acknowledged, but rarely demonstrated, benefits: economic growth and social opportunity being chief among them. Arguments of economic growth usually carry the day when bidding decisions are made. This is of little surprise, as bidding committees are often comprised of the constituencies most likely to benefit from high-profile events occurring in their jurisdiction: politicians, at all levels of government, and civic and business leaders. As a result, development projections dominate the public discussions of such events.

For the Olympic Games or World Cup, promoters tout the creation of new public facilities and suggest a related increase in sport participation—although there is little empirical evidence to support such claims. Infrastructure development, both directly related to events as well as incidental growth—think of the train line to Athens' airport that was built in anticipation of the 2004 Olympics—is also highlighted as a legacy of such events. This infrastructure supports the tourists that organizing committees assert will attend events and continue to visit host communities. It is in the hopes of realizing such benefits that South Africa is going to such great lengths to welcome the "world"—either in person or through television, with an anticipated cumulative audience of 26.9 billion. The South African government is investing 28 billion Rand ($3.7 billion USD) in the World Cup. Two "line items" comprise the bulk of the expenditures. Nearly 10 billion Rand will be spent on what organizers hope is a physical legacy of landmark facilities. FIFA 2010 will be played at ten venues located in nine cities throughout South Africa.

Five brand-new soccer stadia will be built in Cape Town, Durban, Nelspruit, Polokwane, and Port Elizabeth—some in the poorest regions of South Africa—while five others will be upgraded. Transportation infrastructure throughout the nation will also receive an investment of 13.6 billion Rand ($1.8 billion USD) thanks to the World Cup. This money will be spent modernizing existing systems, creating new rail and bus rapid transit lines, and improving roadways. In early May, a new terminal was opened in Johannesburg and travelers to and from Durban were using a brand-new airport. These facilities have been built to welcome the nearly 500,000 tourists projected to visit South Africa during the World Cup who, it is hoped, will spend 8.5 billion Rand ($1.12 billion USD).

Overall, projections call for FIFA 2010 to contribute 55.7 billion Rand ($7.35 billion USD) to the South African economy, add 19.3 billion Rand ($2.5 billion USD) of tax revenue to the government's coffers, and create 415,400 jobs, including the 20,000 construction jobs that have already been filled. There are doubts, of course, about whether a month-long sporting event can deliver the hoped-for economic gains, to say nothing of realizing any meaningful social change. The notion that a major sporting event can both raise the profile of and generate profits for the host has traditionally been linked with the 1984 Los Angles Summer Olympics, the first to generate a substantial profit. Analysts contend that such promises are rarely realized and do not generate the promised economic boon.

As political scientist David Black notes, such estimates have been criticized for "greatly overstating prospective 'windfalls'", which they compound by a "tendency to understate costs." Economic impact analyses are often guilty of overlooking the ways in which mega-events siphon off monies in the local economy that would normally be spent elsewhere while ignoring the "crowding-out effect" when projecting the number of tourists (and their wallets) an event will attract. These events, while attracting spectators, also preclude other visitors from travelling to the region. It was estimated that the 2002 World Cup attracted 460,000 visitors to co-host South Korea, the identical number who visited the country in the same period during the preceding year. In addition, specialized sporting facilities are not widely used after mega-events conclude, have little demonstrated connection with increased sporting participation among the general population, and lead to considerable public debt. The dots are being connected in 2010 between the shaky financial legacy of the 2004 Athens Olympics and the current economic meltdown in Greece.

This is perhaps an extreme case, but in 1994, World Cup organizers in the United States predicted that the event would generate a $4 billion boost to the national economy. Research, by economists Robert Baade and Victor Matheson, however noted that "the host cities experienced economic growth that was $4 billion less than would normally have been expected for these metropolitan areas." Yet, research about the economic impact of large sporting events has focused almost exclusively on events in the developed West (especially Europe and North America). This is a function of the sample size. Mexico has hosted both the Olympics and the World Cup. South America has hosted numerous World Cups, while Japan and South Korea jointly hosted the 2002 World Cup and have both been host to the Summer Olympic Games. But major sporting events in the global south have been limited to "second-order" events such as the Commonwealth Games (Kingston, Jamaica, 1966; Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, 1998), and rugby and cricket World Cups. With such little history, it is unclear whether the risks of unrealized benefits are greater or lesser in the developing world.

In 2010, do the potential benefits of public investment in the World Cup outweigh the risks of further entrenching gaps in South African society? If South Africa's hoped-for economic and infrastructure rewards go unrealized, will the investment have been worth it? Winning the World Cup can hardly be the incentive for hosting. Only seven nations have ever won and South Africa's team (the Bafana Bafana) is ranked a lowly 90th in the world. But there are other markers of success, especially in terms of a nation's international reputation. Germany did not win as 2006 host, but the organizational skills displayed and the positive atmosphere that surrounded much of the tournament did much to improve Germany's image worldwide. And the 2006 success is being leveraged in the German Olympic Committee's bid to host the 2018 Winter Olympic Games in Munich. Increasingly sporting events are stepping stones to ever bigger sporting events. Rio successfully hosted the 2007 Pan-American Games and now is awaiting the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics.

Delhi organizers have made clear that a successful 2010 Commonwealth Games is a prelude to an Olympic bid. Kenyan officials have also suggested that they might bid for the 2028 Summer Olympics to celebrate meeting national economic development targets. An Olympic bid may even be in South Africa's future as sport mega-events become a symbol of a nation's arrival on the world stage. With Potential Reward Comes Risk In the face of such aspirations, critics have questioned whether a global sporting event organized on a northern model can be delivered in the global south. On the ground, organizers face substantial challenges. Chief among these is ensuring the safety and security of World Cup fans. Soccer hooligans have to be policed everywhere, but a 2002 U.N. survey on crime ranked South Africa first among the countries studied for murders and gun violence, second for assaults, and third for robberies. Concerns were heightened by the violence that occurred in January 2010 at the Africa Cup of Nations in Angola. Separatist rebels opened fire on a bus carrying the Togolese team and officials, killing three and injuring 10 others. Angola is not, of course, South Africa, but the attack certainly raised concerns.

More directly relevant to the Cup, it was revealed in April 2010 that the June 12th U.S.-England match in Rustenburg had been the subject of a credible terrorist threat. As a result, the FIFA 2010 security strategy will feature 40,000 uniformed personnel and cost 1.3 billion Rand (approximately $170 million USD). Such efforts are not unique to South Africa. At the recent field hockey World Cup in India spectators at the stadium in Delhi faced as many as seven separate security checks before they were finally granted admittance. Along with concerns over safety, Cup analysts are worried that too few people will come to watch the games live. A day before the terrorist threat to the U.S.-England match was made public, and two months before the opening kickoff, organizers announced that 500,000 tickets for FIFA 2010 remained unsold, roughly one-sixth of the three million available tickets. This announcement was accompanied by the usual confident assertions that the event would be a well-attended success.

Danny Jordaan, the organizing committee CEO, noted that it would be "tragic" if tickets remained unsold and exhorted his countrymen to "go buy now." But for many South Africans that is easier said than done. For non-Africans, tickets range in price from $200-450 USD for preliminary round matches and face values of $400-900 USD for the final on July 11th. For residents of a country where in 2008 UNESCO estimated the gross per capita income to be $5820 USD, FIFA created a category of tickets specifically for South Africans costing approximately $20 USD for early-stage matches and rising to $140 USD for the final. < Kenya: International Cricket Council Keeps Kenya Guessing - allAfrica.com Kenya: International Cricket Council Keeps Kenya Guessing more By And Agencies Nairobi — The International Cricket Council yesterday left Kenya still guessing whether or not next month's World Cup games will be held in Nairobi after deferring their ruling on the matter to next week.

Kenya Cricket Association chairman Jimmy Rayani, who spoke with ICC officials in a conference call, said no decision had been made because not all ICC directors had seen the governing body's report on Kenya. "The whole thing was postponed to an early date next week," Rayani said. "It's getting very late (before the World Cup begins) ... it's worrying, but there's no other choice." The ICC sent a delegation to Kenya from January 13 to 14 to assess the situation amid increasing concern about security following November 28 terrorist attacks that killed 11 Kenyans and three Israeli tourists at Kikambala. The KCA's World Cup organising committee, chaired by Sharad Ghai, later presented the ICC with a revised security plan that includes greater participation of government security forces and more detail. Rayani said the KCA has met all the ICC's security conditions. On Thursday, President Mwai Kibaki issued a statement assuring that the Government will stop at nothing to ensure security for those travelling to Nairobi for the two World Cup matches on February 21 and 24.

The KCA relied on a private firm, Securex, to provide security at a triangular series involving Kenya, Pakistan and Australia last year, and during the ICC Knockout Trophy in 2000. Kenya is scheduled to host two World Cup games against New Zealand (February 21) and Sri Lanka (February 24) at the Nairobi Gymkhana Club. Kenyan cricket and government officials remain optimistic that the ICC will allow the games to be played in the country, and have argued there are no security threats to the matches. The World Cup is being held from February 9 to March 23 with the bulk of the games being played in South Africa. Six matches involving seven countries are scheduled to be played in Zimbabwe. The KCA is worried that the delay in the ICC ruling on the matches will affect their preparations and promotions ahead of the one-day spectacle. The sale of tickets is yet to commence as Gymkhana's hosting of the matches remains uncertain. The Kenyan team is currently training at Ruraka under ex-Indian international Sandip Patil and are scheduled to travel to South Africa next Thursday for warm-up matches ahead of the tournament's start on February 9.

Kenya is captained by Steve Tikolo and will be making their third appearance at the World Cup. Yesterday's ICC meeting, meanwhile, approved a compromise deal with India allowing their players to take part in next month's World Cup despite a long-running and unresolved sponsorship dispute. A statement from the sport's world governing body said the decision by its executive board "effectively calls a truce" between the ICC and the Board of Control of Cricket in India (BCCI), leaving the issue to be tackled after the tournament. But the ICC also made clear that it would retain $9 million - due to India for taking part in the tournament - until the matter had been finally cleared up and warned it could call for India to be suspended from the world game if the matter dragged on. The dispute, which has raged for at least six months, arises from the conflicting interests of official World Cup sponsors on the one hand and the Indian players' personal sponsors on the other. The six-week event starts on February 9. The ICC had demanded personal endorsements should be suspended around its tournaments. India's players, though, some of whom make more from advertisements than from playing, argued their image rights had been signed away without negotiation.

In March, the Indian board accepted the World Cup sponsorship terms without consulting its players who then rebelled, threatening not to play. The board then did a u-turn, backing the rebellion and blaming the ICC terms for being too restrictive. India's top players will now be able to play while continuing with their private endorsements. If, however, official World Cup sponsors later sue for compensation, citing "ambush marketing" the ICC will hold the Indian board responsible and will go to arbitration to decide who should pay. The ICC statement added that "should an arbitration process determine that the BCCI is liable for damages and the BCCI refuse to pay this compensation, the ICC Board will recommend that India is suspended from the ICC." Copyright © 2003 The Nation. All rights reserved. Distributed by AllAfrica Global Media ( allAfrica.com ). To contact the copyright holder directly for corrections — or for permission to republish or make other authorized use of this material, click here. AllAfrica publishes around 800 reports a day from more than 140 news organizations and over 500 other institutions and individuals , representing a diversity of positions on every topic. We publish news and views ranging from vigorous opponents of governments to government publications and spokespersons.

Publishers named above each report are responsible for their own content, which AllAfrica does not have the legal right to edit or correct. Articles and commentaries that identify allAfrica.com as the publisher are produced or commissioned by AllAfrica . To address comments or complaints, please Contact us . Liam Brickhill: Henry Olonga and Andy Flower make a stand Liam Brickhill: Henry Olonga and Andy Flower make a stand By ZimSitRep_W | February 2, 2015 Olonga and Flower make a stand Liam Brickhill via Liam Brickhill: Henry Olonga and Andy Flower make a stand | Cricket Features | World Cup Timeline | ESPN Cricinfo 2 February 2015 It was a defining image of the 2003 tournament: two players, one black, one white, risking their lives and careers by wearing black armbands to protest injustice At 9.30am on February 10, 2003, politics and sport in Zimbabwe came crashing together. It was the morning of the first World Cup match Zimbabwe had ever hosted, against Namibia. A historic occasion, though history has remembered it for reasons other than cricket.

The actions of two men – Henry Olonga and Andy Flower – broke the false levy that had protected cricket in Zimbabwe from its wider context. Like Tommie Smith and John Carlos’ Black Power salute at the 1968 Olympic Games, images of Flower and Olonga’s black-armband protest have come to define the 2003 World Cup for many Zimbabweans. The pair wore their armbands in every World Cup game they played, starting with the match against Namibia. They also released a statement to explain their actions, saying: “In doing so we are mourning the death of democracy in our beloved Zimbabwe. In doing so we are making a silent plea to those responsible to stop the abuse of human rights in Zimbabwe. In doing so, we pray that our small action may help to restore sanity and dignity to our nation.” The potent symbolism expressed by them, one black cricketer and one white, immediately gripped the nation and elevated the emotional intensity of Zimbabwe’s World Cup campaign. The black-armband duo was, in fact, a trio.

Olonga and Flower met with David Coltart, a lawyer and one of the founding members of the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) party, as they planned their protest. Coltart, who would later become Zimbabwe’s Minister of Sport, was (and remains) a keen follower of Zimbabwean cricket. He helped the cricketers draft their statement, and came up with the idea of using black armbands to symbolise their protest. February in Zimbabwe typically marks the tail-end of the rainy season, and though the rains had failed over much of the country in the preceding months, an armada of fluffy clouds rolled gently over Harare Sports Club as Zimbabwe motored past Namibia in rather less graceful fashion. Inside the press box, events with ramifications far beyond the tree-lined rim of Harare Sports Club were taking place. Despite the political turmoil that had gripped the country since the turn of the millennium, Flower and Olonga’s protest took the assembled sporting press very much by surprise, myself as much as anyone. Probably more so, as I was a 19-year-old rookie journalist at my very first international cricket match, and a little too excited just to be there.

I was writing for the Morning Star, a left-wing London rag. It was tanks rolling into Baghdad on their front page, and yours truly reporting from the World Cup on the back. Flower and Olonga didn’t ruin Zimbabwe’s World Cup party; the circumstances in which the event took place meant that this would always be a time of sorrow, rather than celebration, for Zimbabwe That morning, as I busied myself with at least trying to look like a real journalist, even if I wasn’t one just yet, the more grizzled hacks were absent-mindedly filling their cups of coffee, thumbing through the morning papers or glancing at the team lists of the Zimbabweans and somewhat anonymous Namibians. When copies of Olonga and Flower’s statement were placed matter-of-factly in front of each journalist present, the mood in the press box immediately intensified. Coffee sputtered out of nostrils, phones began to ring, and fingers started tapping frantically at keyboards. The months and weeks leading up to the tournament had been filled with lengthy political machinations and debate, both within Zimbabwe and related to the country’s cricket.

There had been an election in 2002, the result of which was deemed “free and fair” by African observers but questioned by the international community. Dikgang Moseneke and Sisi Khampepe, two South African high court judges, released a report on their observations of the elections, but it was swiftly buried and didn’t see the light of day for another 12 years. The land invasions of white farms, which began in 2000, continued and had resulted in several deaths. The treason trial of Morgan Tsvangirai, the leader of the opposition MDC, started a week before the tournament. The minds of many Zimbabweans were, understandably, elsewhere, and it was hardly an ideal time to co-host an international sporting event. All this combined to spook the ECB and the England cricket team, with plenty of to-ing and fro-ing over whether they would play Zimbabwe at the tournament, but precious little decisive action. Despite all the brouhaha, no one saw Flower and Olonga’s protest coming.

Indeed, before the World Cup, Flower had been asked what he thought the biggest surprise might be in the weeks to come and answered cheekily: “If England were to beat Zimbabwe.” Heath Streak, Zimbabwe’s captain at the time, suggested that not even those closest to Flower knew what he was planning. “I don’t even think his brother knew,” said Streak. “We came out from the warm-up [before the Namibia game] and I remember seeing the manager and the coach and Henry and Andy sitting in the corner, and I realised there was a problem.” “I never picked it up,” added Tatenda Taibu. “I played and everything. The other guys were chit-chatting, saying, ‘That’s quite brave.’ I was like, ‘What are they talking about?’ I didn’t even know. If they did tell everyone in the dressing room, I was not there.” Zimbabwe’s next match was scheduled to be against England on the day before Valentine’s, but as it turned out, England never showed up.

After an alleged death threat from a group called the Sons and Daughters of Zimbabwe (a clique no one had heard of before, and which has not been heard from since), it was decided by the ECB that concerns over player safety were significant enough for the match to be cancelled, albeit at the 11th hour. In a politically chaotic tournament Australia – who had cancelled their tour of Zimbabwe in 2002 over the threat of danger after the elections – went against government advice, and supposed safety concerns, to play their group match against Zimbabwe in Bulawayo, while New Zealand withdrew from their fixture against Kenya in Nairobi due to what a New Zealand Cricket statement called a “tangible terrorist threat” and “active terrorist organisations” in the city. Media attention after Flower and Olonga’s protest escalated rapidly, the spotlight helping to keep the pair safe amid the repressive power structures in the country. All the same, Jonathan Moyo, the Minister of Information, labelled Olonga an “Uncle Tom” with “a black skin and a white mask”, and he was immediately dropped from the playing XI. An attempt to drop Flower was thwarted only by the threat of a full-scale player boycott.

Takashinga Cricket Club issued a scathing statement about their (former) player, Flower, and Ozias Bvute, an official in the Zimbabwe Cricket Union personally kicked Olonga off the team bus. Both players were slapped on the wrist by the ICC, which asked them not to repeat their protest. The reaction of the general cricket-watching public was in stark contrast, with near universal support for the cricketers. At Zimbabwe’s next match, against India, a smattering of spectators turned up with black armbands of their own. When nothing happened to them, the trend quickly spread and in Bulawayo, where Zimbabwe played Australia, some even turned up with placards decrying the social and political crisis in the country. Emboldened, several of the players within the Zimbabwe camp considered joining Flower and Olonga in protest, and possibly even boycotting one of their matches outright in order to make a statement. Not among their number was Guy Whittall, a rakishly charming, laid-back figure both on and off the field. Whittall had battled form and fitness issues to force his way back into Zimbabwe’s side for the World Cup.

On the wrong side of 30, with a gammy knee, Whittall knew that he’d soon be retiring from sport to help run his family’s game ranch, and all he wanted was a quiet, dignified exit from the game. “These guys came to me and started talking about not walking onto the field tomorrow,” remembers Whittall. “‘We’re going to wear our black armbands.’ I said, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. This will come with all sorts of threats. Let’s just get on and enjoy our last few games. Let’s finish this thing.'” Zimbabwe did take the field that day. The Flower brothers shared their last significant stand in international cricket, driving, dabbing and sprinting their way to a partnership of 84 in 20 overs. Andy’s incandescent celebration upon reaching his fifty, tearing off his helmet and gesturing expressively up at the players on the balcony, showed just how pumped up he was. Thanks to the four points Zimbabwe gained from England’s forfeit, Zimbabwe needed at least two points from their fixture against Pakistan to progress to the Super Six.

The 2003 World Cup provided the grand stage for the first battle in the war over the soul of cricket in Zimbabwe The rain, absent for so much of the early season and now apparently making up for lost time, helped them achieve that, but Zimbabwe’s “victory lap” after their sodden qualification was more apologetic than triumphant, and their second foray into the Super Six in as many World Cups was not a happy one. The second stage of the tournament was played entirely in South Africa, where Nathan Astle’s century bettered Heath Streak and Sean Ervine’s blitz against New Zealand, and Zimbabwe had no answer to a Kenyan side brimful of enthusiasm, capitulating for 133. That game marked the end of Olonga’s and Alistair Campbell’s international careers, while Flower played his final match against Sri Lanka in East London. He was shotgunned by an umpiring decision on 38, given out lbw despite a massive inside edge, and Zimbabwe’s World Cup whimpered to a close with his departure, as the next six wickets fell for just 42 runs.

It was a sad day for Zimbabwean cricket, and a melancholic end to the career of the best player ever to pick up a bat for them. After the Sri Lanka match, a rumour began to circulate that agents from Zimbabwe’s feared Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO) had arrived in the city looking for Olonga, and he was quickly taken to a safe house. Whether or not the rumour was true, his caution was apt. Things happen to people in the custody of the CIO. Security agents once turned up at my university in Grahamstown in South Africa, looking for a Zimbabwean student who had organised a march to protest the violence of the 2008 elections. Being in South Africa does not mean certain safety. A couple of weeks later, death threats forced Olonga to leave for England. Flower had already secured a contract with Essex. Both were given honorary life membership of the MCC later that year. Whittall also retired after the World Cup, while Campbell and Brian Murphy also never played for Zimbabwe again.

On March 3, the day before Zimbabwe qualified for the Super Six, Coltart found that a rear tyre of his car had been sabotaged (some months earlier his car’s brake linings had been cut). On the morning of March 15, the day Zimbabwe’s World Cup campaign ended against Sri Lanka, Coltart noticed a vehicle with three men and what appeared to be a weapon outside his home as he left with his nine-year-old son and 18-month-old daughter. The car followed him at speed before his security team caught up with them, when the mysterious car gave up the chase and left. Coltart went into hiding for two weeks. The rebel crisis, a year later, was the apocalyptic event in Zimbabwean cricket, and 2004 marks Year Zero for the current team and the game as we know it in Zimbabwe. Yet, the 2003 World Cup provided the grand stage for the first battle in the war over the soul of cricket in Zimbabwe. The world has turned through two World Cups since 2003. It was a long time ago – in cricketing terms, a full generation.

It wasn’t until 2014 that the Khampepe Report on Zimbabwe’s 2002 election, which suggested that the election was neither free nor fair, was made public. The results of that election still ripple through Zimbabwean society today, and nor is Zimbabwean cricket free from the turmoil that has gripped it for more than a decade. Politics and sport had been mixed into a sour broth in the years preceding the World Cup. Flower and Olonga didn’t ruin Zimbabwe’s World Cup party; the circumstances in which the event took place meant that this would always be a time of sorrow rather than celebration for Zimbabwe. But they were presented with a chance to change their sport, and perhaps even their country, for the better, and they took it. Was it worth it? “We can’t all change the world, but if we all do little things along the way and make the most powerful decisions we can then I think we can bring about change,” Flower told the BBC in 2013. “Would I do it again? Given the same circumstances, without a doubt, yes.” Liam Brickhill is a freelance journalist based in Cape Town Share this:

Question: In which African country did New Zealand refuse to play in the 2003 Cricket World Cup, because of a terrorist threat?
Answer: Kenya