AS THE clock ticks towards June 11, our collective heartbeat wants to move the hands of time even faster.
The announcement yesterday of the final 23-man squad that will die on the field for the flag makes the adrenaline pump equally faster.
With eight days to go, our eyes are glued to the 23 gladiators, our pride and joy. We are so thrilled even the excitement of a child in a toy shop comes second.
Cliched as it is, this is the time we've all been waiting for. Even the normally petulant Benni McCarthy has seen fit not to throw his toys out the cot and wish the final Bafana Bafana World Cup team well. Way to go, Benni; that's the spirit.
Forget the 1995 Rugby World Cup and the African Cup of Nations the following year - they belong in the annals of history. Fast-forward to 2010 and you will note that never before has black, white, coloured or whatever other hue apartheid sought to keep apart, moved in such unison.
The national colours adorn many homes, they are on virtually every dashboard and aerial and have become an in vogue fashion accessory - adorning checks to complement stylish earrings.
The vuvuzela is threatening to kick the protea off the pedestal of the national symbol. As a commodity, "selling like hot-cakes" doesn't do justice to its trade potential. It is flying off the shelves.
Every second person you bump into is sporting Bafana memorabilia.
United in our diversity behind our boys.