Is the plastic horn that produces the bee-like drone at the World Cup a South African cultural tradition or an instrument of hell? Hint: Where's the bug spray?
Shouldn't they do that "vuvu"-doo at New Orleans Hornets games?
The reference is to the vuvuzela, the plastic horn that makes all the World Cup soccer games in South Africa sound like they are being played in the flight path of vast swarms of bees.
French players blamed their scoreless tie with Uruguay in part on their inability to communicate in the droning din. Perhaps they were stung again in a 2-0 shutout by Mexico.
Portugal's Cristiano Ronaldo, who has been responsible for more flops than Anderson Varejao and Kevin Costner combined, blames the vuvuzelas for almost everything, including possibly huffing and puffing and blowing his equilibrium down.
Television commentators, adding their own whine to the metallic monotone, say the vuvuzelas drown out their words. (In that case, quick, let vuvuzelas be legalized at the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach. Almost any sound is preferable to Chris Berman, possibly even Dick Vitale.)
The vuvuzelas might have the effect of killer bees on some American fans' soccer interest. Soccer is never going to be a mainstream sport here because too many other activities are on the calendar. But quadrennial events like the World Cup should not drive viewers to hit the mute button.
This is the road to Vitale. I note, however, that Dickie Killer V has not shouted "Freeze it!" (or whatever his current pet phrase might be) in my house in years. More precisely, he has not shouted it so that I can hear it. Wonderful invention, the mute button.
FIFA, the world governing body of soccer, has ruled that the vuvuzelas will stay. Said Sepp Blatter, the top kick himself, the president of FIFA: "I have always said that Africa has a different rhythm, a different sound. I don't see banning the music traditions of fans in their own country. Would you want to see a ban on the fan traditions in your country?"
Blatter argues that there is no point in taking the world's biggest event, except in the pesky U.S., to the continent of Africa for the first time only to "Europeanize it." The trumpets have thus become legitimized, as an integral part of the soccer culture in South Africa.
It is hard to dismiss the culture argument FIFA has made, particularly given the sordid history of European colonialism in Africa.
But even some South Africans say the plastic horn is an "instrument of hell."
It is also an instrument of harm. If your stadium seat were on an airplane runway and jets were taking off next to it, you would be exposed to between 130-150 decibels of noise. At a measured peak of 127 decibels, the vuvuzela cacophony poses an obvious threat to spectators' hearing.
The peak noise level at The Q, probably the loudest arena in the NBA, is around 110 decibels. That is the equivalent of having a chainsaw chewing away an oak tree in the seat next to you.
The vuvuzelas do have one thing going for them, however. Tuneless, mindless, monotonous as it is, the bummer hummer of the summer is a sound produced by human beings.
It is not the obnoxious, deep-voiced recording bellowing "De-fense! De-fense!" that is played everywhere in the NBA. It is not the even more infantile recording that tells NBA spectators everywhere, "Everybody clap your hands!" The NBA has simply become a sonic dump.
The Cavaliers abhor any vacuum, for fear some observant fans might fill it by saying, "Hey, hasn't the team pretty much said, 'No mas' tonight?"
So sounds produced without prompting, sounds produced by the fans themselves, should be more acceptable than all this mechanized cheerleading.
Still, the vuvuzelas turn each soccer venue into a beehive, and the hell with courtesy to others.
FIFA therefore should not be surprised if some visiting fan, turning a deaf ear to the vuvuzelas' cultural imperative, opens up on the horn section with Black Flag or Bug B Gone.