The real story behind a big sporting weekend: Wembley, Augusta and Ventersdorp

HERE'S the problem I have. This weekend we have two massive FA Cup semi-finals with full houses at Wembley. We've also got a couple of relegation battles and Manchester United in the Premier League on Sunday.

Yet the Daily Mail splashes on their back page with "England terror threat". Some group in Algeria have apparently threatened to attack the opening game against the USA in Rustenburg on June 11.

Great. Give the loonies plenty of publicity, have another go at the World Cup in darkest Africa, feed the insecurities of your readers, don't worry about ticket sales and tourism which would help an emerging nation in their hour of need.

And forget the real sport. Tiger Woods chasing English leaders Ian Poulter and Lee Westwood at the Masters in Augusta, two arrests at Essex Cricket Club over alleged match-fixing. Oh, and The Sun led with John Terry saying the Champions League failure will help England's World Cup crusade. Now that's not a bad tale for a Saturday morning, I said that on Wednesday night!

But no, pick out the rotten, the hysterical, the frightening. Terror threat? The loonies make gestures like that all the time. The real story in South Africa yesterday, the one which will really impact on the World Cup - in a positive way - is that there was NO trouble in Ventersdorp yesterday.

That's where white supremacist Eugene Terreblanche was buried, within site of his farmhouse yesterday. His loonies, the Afrikaner Weerstandsbewegeing (AWB or Afrikaner Resistance Movement), turned up in their thousands with their out-dated, Nazi symbols. Their usually whites only church was, for once, bulging (at this point you have to ask, does God do whites only churches?) but the local black population failed to tear the place apart. Good on them.

Hundreds of journalists from around the world turned up in the tiny North West dorp or village... but absolutely nothing happened. One Afrikaner muttered "housemaid" when a black female politician walked down the whites-only aisle. And that's it.

Now that is a tale. No trouble in South Africa. Unlike the Daily Star on Monday, which said there would be a "World Cup bloodbath" after Terreblanche's murder. I guess we'll see an apology for their front page splash on Monday. Not.

And how about the stunner in the South African papers today - suggesting a used condom had been found at the murder scene and that Terreblanche was having a relationship with one of the two farmhands, 15 and 21, who allegedly hacked him to death? Maybe it's not a race war after all, just a grubby end to a spiteful life.

Strange days. But peaceful. Serene despite the mad utterances of ANC youth leader Julius Malema, who threw a BBC journalist out of his press conference this week in a welter of racist abuse. Serene despite the action of an AWB madman called Visagie, who left a news room throwing his microphone away and threatening a tiny black, female newsreader while backed by his armed guard.

Hilarious videos of these incidents are available on YouTube. Only it isn't funny. Despite all these problems, all this provocation, South Africans remain largely sane, largely peaceful, largely looking forward to the World Cup on June 11.

And that's the point we need to make. Despite all those years of Apartheid, despite a democracy that is only 15 years old, they are holding it together. As I've said in my book A GAME APART, I think the Rainbow Nation gets closer to the pot of gold every time I visit.

I grew up there, I know how bad Apartheid was. Those who slam the crime rates and rantings of the juvenile ANC have short memories. Corruption, violence and discrimination were part of the old National Party's agenda from 1948 to 1994. Every white man had to serve two years of National Service to keep their brand of Nazism in place, to make Africans feel like migrant workers in their own land.

But it's over. This is the new South Africa, ready to host a World Cup for everyone, from Nicklas Bendtner to Didier Drogba. All colours welcome. And they can go through the front doors of the hotels, sit together in the stadiums, share a beach. Even a church.

So bring on the World Cup. Stop rabble rousing. Celebrate the Rainbow Nation. And pray for Nelson Mandela, too old and frail to raise a statement during this week's turmoil.

Amazed by Amazon... two reviews of A GAME APART I thought you might like to read...

DAVID BRYSON, one of the top reviewers on Amazon, has put up this review of my first novel, A GAME APART. He gave it five stars – and touched on a lot of the areas you hope reviewers will when you set out on the publishing journey. Thanks David. There’s also a review from an M Nelson, which I’ve added below. Please give them both a read and if you’re interested, click through on www.nealcollins.co.uk or search for the book on Amazon... with Eugene Terreblanche’s death over the weekend it’s a fraught time for the World Cup. I hope my words offer some perspective for football fans planning to travel – or those who will simply watch from home. The background to current events in South Africa is far from simple. Years of discrimination and hatred have been put aside in the name of "peace and reconciliation"... bitter outbreaks are bound to occur. As I said yesterday, we can only pray the voices of sanity prevail. Is this what you would call a novel? At least some of the characters are fictional, although there is probably a strong basis in real life-stories even with these. How close to historical fact the details of the story are I don't know either, but I would guess pretty damn close. This book is more history than anything else. Although the plot line is hung around international football (in America-speak `soccer') don't look for anything here along the lines of Roy of the Rovers. Matches are described with an enthusiast's sense for detail and atmosphere, but one of the things that I like best about the narration is how even these sporting commentaries never lose contact with the basic political thread, the ghastly tale of apartheid in South Africa. I very much doubt that international sport can be separated from global politics. To those who pleaded for that the late James Cameron responded `Go on, just try.' Neal Collins has more sense, however much he loves football for itself he knows what was really important when it was a matter of football in pre-Mandela South Africa, and the games that he describes never become isolated episodes described just for the sake of talking about football. The fictional element of the plot is very well put together. The hero is of slightly uncertain racial origins, and he is made to grow and develop as he escapes his slag of a mother and his scrubber of an English girlfriend via his secondment to a team in South Africa. There he sees things that he was not meant to see, he finds a woman whom he deserves and who deserves him, but above all he saves his soul by his determination to expose the true filthy reality of the South African regime. This book is strong on atmosphere. It does not just describe the governmental orders and regulations, it takes us right into the heart of the communities affected by them and does not spare us the details of what the suffering was like. Almost more important, because more educative and illuminating, it gets to the heart also of the Afrikaner mentality. Neal Collins puts his finger on the inferiority complex, the chips on shoulders, the defensiveness that uses brutality as an outlet for a sense of insecurity, the contempt for truth, the glorification of ignorance and the fostering of the belief that it does not matter what you do it matters what flag you do it under. It was all so reminiscent of inter-wars Germany, and I think the author says so, perhaps through the mouth of his hero. One parallel that is not explicitly drawn, possibly because there was no need to spell it out, is how the grievances of the Boers, as of the Germans before them, were not imaginary. The Treaty of Versailles was the last word in smug triumphalist stupidity, and the treatment of the Boers by the British was not much better than the viciousness that the humiliated Boers in their turn dished out to who they could dish it out to. Worth remembering whenever we feel inclined to shake our heads in self-righteous piety. For once, the historian in the author is able to end on a note of not just hope but actual achievement. Whatever the shortcomings of the new South Africa, Mandela's vision and strategy look good by most relevant comparisons. I am not going to be able to attend the World Cup in South Africa, but I shall be following with interest the experiences and reports of those who can make it. Global sport is an increasingly important element in global politics, and this book is a very timely reminder of what happened at a time when South Africa could not have qualified for any such festival of the world's game, (although even in its darkest era rugby continued to sidle through the moral barriers and so would cricket have but for the foolishness of the South African government in the case of d'Oliveira.) We keep hearing pious sentiments about how the Holocaust must never be allowed to happen again, and I wonder in that case what those who express such unexceptionable opinions think happened in Rwanda, Cambodia and Bosnia. It would be ironic if sport can achieve what diplomacy can't, but if it can it should be encouraged to. I have no hesitation in giving this book 5 stars. Neal Collins is no great literary stylist, but his book scores heavily for the power with which he gets his message across, for the welcome absence of preachiness, and for the admirable sense of timing in publishing it. If I felt even a moment's doubt regarding the fifth star, it was dispelled instantly on finding that the author is a fellow Arsenal supporter.

Somebody called M Nelson added this, shorter review, which is equally satisfiying from my point of view: A story that instantly captures the irrepressible spirit of the Black nation in South Africa. Their generosity, sense of humour and love of the football game along with the traditions and superstitions of their pride culture is portrayed successfully. The immense atrocities and madness South African people were subjected to by the Apartheid regime is captured and the way the author has condensed some of the atrocities committed, shocks one successfully into realising the fight and tragedy that South Africa has been through to achieve the miraculous Rainbow Nation. The book is not all "doom and gloom" however as the sense of humour and the love of the game of football that is so prevalent in South Africa does successfully shine through. SA deserves to host the World Cup 2010! Both of these review can be found at http://www.amazon.com/Game-Apart-Story-Behind-Africa/dp/1449057489/ref=cm. For further info, have a look around www.nealcollins.co.uk... and for video, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqck5JuZtuc

Why the death of a white farmer in South Africa may be more important than Haye, Vettel or and off-side Drogba

IT would be nice, on this Easter Sunday morning, to wax lyrical about David Haye's nine-round heavyweight title demolition of John Ruiz last night. Or a fascinating Grand Prix in Malaysia early this morning which featured a Red Bull one-two (that's Sebastian Vettel celebrating, pictured) and keeps the title race as tight as a Scotsman's sporran.

But no. Today's subject is football. But not Chelsea's dramatic 2-1 win over champions Manchester United or Tottenham's unexpected slip-up against Sunderland and their old striker Darren Bent, who scored twice AND missed two penalties.

No. This is far more serious. Yesterday, on his farm in South Africa, a man called EugeneTerreblanche was hacked to death, allegedly by two of his own workers in a dispute over R600, which is about £60.

On the face of it, this has little to do with football. Terreblanche was a fascist. Leader of the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging or AWB, the white resistance movement which emerged in the 1980s.

Terreblanche is - was - an unreconstructed racist. A white supremacist. He wanted to set up a homeland for whites when South Africa went democratic in 1994. He has been relatively quiet in recent years and it appeared he would end his volatile, extremist life in peace.

But in a month when tensions are running high barely two months before the World Cup kicks off in Johannesburg, with a high profile South African politician singing a racist ditty about "killing theboer",Terreblanche is found dead on his farm aged 69.

Ironically, after years of attempting to stir up hatred, it is in death that Terreblanche may gain all that he has sought. With Nelson Mandela growing too old to calm his Rainbow Nation, Terreblanche's death will send the white population into paroxsysms of fear and loathing.

They will believe his death is a conspiracy, that a selfish politician called Julius Malema is somehow responsible for the death of Terreblanche and is encouraging murder on the farms, the heartland of the Afrikaner. Reasonable voices will be drowned out.

I've picked up these two vastly different responses from South Africans on the BBC website. A lady called Riesa in Cape Town says: "As a white single mum of one daughter I already had sleepless nights regarding my daughter's safety. Now after the murder of Mr Terreblanche I fear even more. Racial tension has been driven to the point of no return now. I can smell the fear."

And from Durbna, Itami Manganyi is quoted as saying: "Eugene was an enemy but I also don't condone his death. One will argue this is just a conspiracy to discredit Julius Malema's racist song "Kill the boer, kill the farmer". But still I would like the leaderless ANC to refrain from these racist songs."

You get the drift. This bizarre confluence of events, with the leader of the Boer right-wing being hacked to death when Malema's needless posturing is dominating the headlines, could lead to serious problems in South Africa just when the Rainbow Nation needs to pull together.

With all eyes on South Africa in the build-up to the World Cup which kicks off in Johannesburg on June 11, it's the last thing the country needed. That's why the murder of a 68-year-old white supremacist could just be the big sports story on Easter Sunday, when we should be celebratingHaye, Vettel and an off-side Drogba.

I live in hope. That the voices of reason will win the day, the month, the future. Because otherwise, this might be a very sad Sunday for sport.