Chris Rattue: Tragedy marks World Cup's opening day

Tragedy and celebration linked arms at the magnificent Soccer City and now it is time for the magical feet of the world's best soccer players to take over.

The death of Nelson Mandela's great-granddaughter in a car accident on the day of the World Cup opening ceremony in Johannesburg robbed South Africa of what was intended as a day of pure joy.

The only disaster previously envisaged involved the fate of the South African team in the opening game against Mexico early today, but this troubled country was suddenly left to mourn a personal tragedy suffered by the most famous of world leaders.

How this great man who has given the world so much and remains a symbol of hope on a divided planet could suffer a personal tragedy on this day was almost impossible to comprehend.

Hearing the news brought an immediate lump to the throat as our van rattled on towards soccer central, along roads that are hosts to carnage.

Lawlessness is ingrained here, including hordes of un-roadworthy vehicles, unlicensed drivers, and an annual fatality number of more than 14,000.

Thirteen-year-old old Zenani Mandela was killed in a one-car accident, after which the male driver was charged with drink driving.

If this disaster had not struck, and the frail Mandela been able to attend, he would have revelled in the sounds and scenes at the opening theatre.

The noise at Soccer City, on a beautiful, clear afternoon, was staggering. There was no chance of ringing home to tell anyone about it.

The ceremony was drowned in the vuvuzela trumpets, and when combined with a fly over of jets the eardrums almost burst in this explosion of pride.

The ceremony was about colour and rhythms, delivered in a 95,000-seater stadium that was nearly full.

Yet it was also hard for a visitor not to think back to experiences around the city, of black people bearing the brunt of the country's poverty, and dominating the low paid jobs.

Or that a black woman, a jewellery maker, who lives in a predominantly white neighbourhood told me that her nine-year-old son endures abuse because of his race at school. She tells him to be strong, and through that he will play his part in building a better future.

She also says that old prejudices the family encountered are breaking down, if agonisingly slowly.

Claims that a month of soccer can somehow arrest the country's problems will take some proving.

Yet the soccer World Cup is about soccer grounds, not humanitarian ones, and the arrival of the game itself was almost a relief from a build-up that became tedious in the final days.

Can a very powerful squad win the World Cup for Spain for the first time?

Will a harder edge to Brazil's selections and attitude see the game's most famous team triumph?

Can Cristiano Ronaldo of Portugal play to a level that matches his fame? And can any defenders deal with the Argentinian whiz Lionel Messi?

A generation of highly valued, or at least highly paid, English footballers yet to win a major international prize will aim to emulate the heroes of 1966.

Those are the things we are fascinated in now.

The constant drone of the vuvuzela does not reflect the ebb and flow of a game, or enhance it.

Siphiwe Tshabalala's scored a fantastic goal, Itumeleng Khune made a stunning save, the noise rose even higher, and South Africa celebrated wildly.

Mexico then equalised as the sun went down, and South Africa hit the post under the floodlighting.

Apart from cases of deliberate diving, this was a wonderful game full of chances although both sides finished disappointed.

The townships shouldn't sleep on the 1-1 draw, and anything seems possible in the 2010 World Cup after the first day.