The problem with vuvuzelas is not what they bring to the game, but what they take away.
Anyone who has watched a game will have heard the relentless drone of the African horn. In the stadia, the sound is magnified to a torturous level.
But football stadia should be loud
and raucous. The curse of the vuvuzelas is that they render the crowd an impotent force.
Football, at its heart, is a game for fans. They can become a 12th man for their team on the pitch, lifting the players with roaring support.
More than that, the crowd is an organic beast. It ebbs and flows, sometimes driven by the on-field action but at other times driving the action. It responds to the game and to itself.
Chants appear from nowhere but within seconds everyone knows the words and 20,000 people are singing them.
There is an irresistible humour. Shouts directed toward the referee, at the players and other fans, become the stuff of legend - tales to tell later to those not fortunate enough to be at the game.
The crowd plays its part to create a unique environment and give a unique personality to each match.
But the vuvuzela has destroyed all this.
Instead there is a monotony of noise making even conversation with the person next to you difficult.
It's strange that during the planet's greatest sporting spectacle more column inches seem to have been devoted to the sound of the blaring horn than to football.
Even players have become involved, though opinion there is split.
Portugal star Cristiano Ronaldo complained that it was difficult for players to concentrate on the pitch, but the Netherlands' Wesley Sneijder said it didn't disturb him and was part of the African culture and part of the tournament.
That view is backed by football's governing body which says the trumpets reflect Africa's "different rhythm, different sound".
Perhaps history will be kind to the vuvuzela and we'll look back with fondness on a special contribution to the World Cup, but for now the theatre of each game becomes an imitation of the one before.
