Spain left black and blue by Rainbow Nation final

Justice had been done last night at the end of a match in which Holland should have lowered their heads in shame.

South Africa did not deserve this. They did not deserve a final which made history with 14 yellow cards, two of them leading to a red for Everton defender Johnny Heitinga – the most cards in the 80-year history of the tournament's climax.

They did not deserve the last throes of the first World Cup on their continent to be remembered for Dutch thuggery and a match which stained the spirit of football.

Heitinga was the man dismissed by Rotherham referee Howard Webb, who was booed by the Dutch fans as he picked up his souvenir medal and must have wondered what he had done to be awarded this Dante's Inferno of a football match which was put out of its misery only when Andres Iniesta slid the ball into the Dutch net for a 1-0 victory after 116 minutes.

Even then Holland further disgraced themselves as they surrounded Webb and the linesman, Joris Mathijsen slamming the ball into the turf, for which he saw yellow.

What made it all so much worse was that an hour before kick-off Nelson Mandela, wearing a Russian fur hat and the broadest of smiles, had been driven onto the pitch in an open-topped buggy to a rapturous welcome and chants of 'Madiba,' the affectionate name for elders of his clan.

Mandela had fought and worked and prayed for this moment. Not the football, but the moment in history when South Africa, the new, respected, free and democratic nation was at the centre of the world for the right reasons.

Frail now and with his 92nd birthday next Sunday, he left to watch the match at home with his wife Graca.

Quite what a Nobel Peace Prize winner would have made of the sporting war which ensued is debatable.

But, forget the football for a second, Mandela's presence was just as potent symbolically.

Here was the architect of the Rainbow Nation, the anti-apartheid campaigner who had been imprisoned for 27 years, mostly on Robben Island, before becoming the first democratically elected president of South Africa.

Here he was giving his support and approval once more on the night South Africa, 16 years after the end of apartheid, came of age as a developing nation before an estimated one billion viewers around the globe.

That was the sub-plot of this World Cup final, the first on African soil. One which had flown in the face of all the doubters and doom-mongers and proved to be a huge success.

Until its final act.

We had hoped for a classic between two teams who profess to play beautiful football. After seeing Germany outclassed in the semi-final, Holland clearly decided they could not afford to match Spain when it came to skill, so they opted for a slugging match.

The first half alone saw five bookings, three for the Dutch and two for Spain as Holland sought to break up Spain's rhythm by getting their foot in.

In Nigel De Jong's case that meant into the chest of Xabi Alonso, a kung-fu style kick from which Alonso was fortunate to emerge unscathed and De Jong even luckier to stay on the pitch.

The same could be said for Mark van Bommel, who had already taken out Joan Capdevila. It was more than niggly – it was nasty, premeditated, a shameful attempt to knock Spain out of their stride.

A word here for Webb, who defused several potentially volatile situations with calm action and swift punishment. But if he had been really brave then van Bommel would have seen red, too.

The second half was little better, four more bookings as the physical stuff continued, Spain also coming out with the intention of sacrificing style for a bit more steel.

There was the occasional shaft of football and some good goal chances, mostly from Holland.

But in the main it was stop-start, with Webb rushing in once more to keep players apart, both benches mouthing accusations and vitriol filling the air.

When the referee is the story, forever at the centre of the action, it is a bad night for football.