As published in the October 2011 edition of SPORTElizabeth.
I always used to love flying. Airport culture. The rush and panic of wondering if everything is packed. Did I remember my passport? Do I need to make a wee before boarding the plane? Should I rather save it for the plane? Nothing better than the challenge of having to aim during a touch of turbulence. All these serious issues that need to be dealt with in the space of about 10 minutes between checking in and rushing through the boarding gates while you hear (a shocking attempt at the pronunciation of) your name echoing through the airport terminal: “This is a final boarding call for Rowry Pieterse. Rolly Peterset please make your way to gate number five. Roy Peters. Please. Thank you.” I have absolutely no idea who you have just called, but I am running to gate number five nevertheless. I promise. And while we’re here, it’s Rory. Rory Petzer. Thank you.
My first flight ever was to Johannesburg. I was 17 years old and I had won a trip to watch the Springboks take on the All Blacks in 1996 in Johannesburg, Pretoria and Durban. Yes, all
three matches. My prize – which was won on a national radio station – included car rental, VIP tickets to all three games, hotels, and spending money. The booze was free too. Funnily enough, the only thing I remember about the Loftus match was a lineout at some stage of the game (funny that?) and then throwing a shot glass at a barman at a pub somewhere in town. I missed the barman, but I think I was actually imitating James Dalton (Bullet) and attempting a lineout
manoeuvre. I got a yellow card and was asked to leave the pub. I took my friend, Wes with me to the matches as he was eighteen at the time and had a driver’s licence so we could make use of the car rental. Not that we used it much as free booze usually means a cab trip. Where are we? I always do this. I start out in an airport and now I’m throwing shot glasses at barmen. Focus, Rory.
Oh yes, the aeroplane. I used to love flying until recently while flying with one of the ‘low-cost’ airlines to visit my brothers in Johannesburg, thick white smoke started puffing into the plane from the air vents. Thick, strong, toxic white smoke. The first thing I always do when nervous on a plane is look at the air host/esses and gauge their response. Well, this time I probably should not have. The one looked like she was going to burst into tears, while the other one scurried into the cockpit. The captain then makes a terrible attempt at calming everyone down by saying, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I am aware of the fact that there is smoke coming into the cabin. The bad news is we have no idea why it is happening.” At this stage, there is that strong, silent, spine-chilling smell of panic while some of the passengers start trying to send text messages to family and friends. Either that, or they just wanted to finish their airtime before dying. Well, it would be waste not to. The captain then proudly continues, “If you are experiencing trouble breathing [um, breathing? That is something you do when there is air available. What we’re doing right now cannot be classed as breathing] please try and breathe through your sleeve or whatever you can find, while we do our best to get the plane back on the ground.” Right, I know I only paid like R9 for this flight, but for suck’s fake, if I feel like my face is stuck 12cm up a tractor’s exhaust pipe, I really do expect those fancy little oxygen masks you were all bragging about 10 minutes ago, to fall out. And the whole thing about you trying to get the plane back on the ground? How about you just do it. Just do it. I dare you.
The old man sitting next to me also came up with a gem. While I was contemplating life and all the things I still wanted to do before blowing up in mid-air, the very kind gentleman next to me said, “I hate to scare you [Really? Then why don’t you just shut up?], but you know what they say? Where there is smoke, there is fire. Something in the engine compartment is burning.” Wow. I did for a second contemplate dying in style and first stabbing this old man with my zip – because that is the ONLY potential weapon allowed on aeroplanes these days – but thought against it.
We eventually did get safely back onto the ground, but not before an agonisingly long trip out to sea where we were ostensibly dumping fuel. When we landed we were greeted by a smart array
of rescue vehicles, which for some reason made us all feel quite important. The old man never did get to meet my zip in person, but if you’re reading this now and you can remember that flight and you can remember saying what you did to that frightened young man next to you, just know that I will get you.
Why all this rubbish about shot glasses, line-outs and absent oxygen masks? Well, the answer is quite simple: I did not go to New Zealand for the Rugby World Cup, but yes, Daron Mann did. And I am willing to bet pretty much anything that his column this month is going to constitute a long and boring *yawns* boasting session about every little minute of it. We don’t care, Daron. We’re over it. As per the above evidence, I’ve also seen my fair share of live rugby. And not just 1time. Now go away.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Test Match 2011
As published in the September 2011 edition of SPORTElizabeth.
Four very thirsty boys dressed in green and gold. We had our tickets. We had our gamefaces on. We had waited over a year for this day. Rory, Heydn, Ettiene and Jason (my older brother who made the trip from Johannesburg) converged upon my flat in Richmond Hill. For some
reason, it turned out to be a mini palaver getting everyone there at the right time and so on. I know, it’s only four people, but at one stage it felt like I was herding cats. And then of course, “Don’t forget the tickets, Rory!” Rory did not forget the tickets as such. Rory just forgot his own ticket. Don’t ask. For obvious reasons, I won’t say exactly where my flat is, but I’ll say it is
in the vicinity of the Royal Dehli restaurant. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. Keep reading.
Four very thirsty boys dressed in green and gold. We had our tickets. We had our gamefaces on. We had waited over a year for this day. Rory, Heydn, Ettiene and Jason (my older brother who made the trip from Johannesburg) converged upon my flat in Richmond Hill. For some
reason, it turned out to be a mini palaver getting everyone there at the right time and so on. I know, it’s only four people, but at one stage it felt like I was herding cats. And then of course, “Don’t forget the tickets, Rory!” Rory did not forget the tickets as such. Rory just forgot his own ticket. Don’t ask. For obvious reasons, I won’t say exactly where my flat is, but I’ll say it is
in the vicinity of the Royal Dehli restaurant. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. Keep reading.
It was Saturday 20 August, 2011 and the All Blacks were in town – that feared rugby team, and the hype in the Bay leading up to the match was electric. It felt very similar to that 2010 Soccer World Cup feeling. And of course, come Wednesday and Thursday, and there is the usual last-minute panic and scramble for tickets all over Facebook. We’re PE people. We leave things to the last minute. Of course I did no such thing – I bought my ticket months ago. Yes, I did buy one, thank you very much. The reason I emphasise that point is because if I was given just R2 for every time someone asked me to, “Sort out some tickets, bru?” I’d have a lot of money. What makes me laugh the most is when I get a message from someone I haven’t heard from in yonks asking for “Some tickets, bru.” I kindly replied with the Computicket link. I’m getting sidetracked again. Where were we?
Oh yes! Richmond Hill – my flat and it is Saturday afternoon. We spent a few minutes standing at the car debating whether or not we should just walk to the stadium, or bother with the
hassle of having to park a car somewhere. After some persuasion from yours truly, which was met with fear in the eyes of Jason, we decided to walk. Yes, Jason, you can do it. I promise. We’ll stop for an ice-cream along the way. So off we trot. Rory is busy on his BlackBerry (for a change?), not paying attention, and the next thing I look up and we’re at the end of a cul-de-sac with nothing but a cliff and a tall fence in front of us. “Rory, where the effing hell are you taking us, dude?” “Oh s%$&! We took the wrong turn off (walking!), follow me,” says Rory. Big brother, Jason is less than amused at this stage. Rory puts his phone back into his pocket. By the way, I did have a very good reason for being on my phone. Keep reading.
hassle of having to park a car somewhere. After some persuasion from yours truly, which was met with fear in the eyes of Jason, we decided to walk. Yes, Jason, you can do it. I promise. We’ll stop for an ice-cream along the way. So off we trot. Rory is busy on his BlackBerry (for a change?), not paying attention, and the next thing I look up and we’re at the end of a cul-de-sac with nothing but a cliff and a tall fence in front of us. “Rory, where the effing hell are you taking us, dude?” “Oh s%$&! We took the wrong turn off (walking!), follow me,” says Rory. Big brother, Jason is less than amused at this stage. Rory puts his phone back into his pocket. By the way, I did have a very good reason for being on my phone. Keep reading.
So we backtrack and I lead the cats to the correct turnoff. We’re doing well now, until Jason looks down at Albany Road and says, “It’s a piece of cake – we just get down there and pop into the Pitch and Putter. It’s not far at all.” So I look up and then down at the street below, and see that it is not Mount Road, it is in fact Albany Road. Mount Road is the next one. So, not wanting to frighten the already nervous Jason, I nonchalantly mumble that he is in fact incorrect, and Mount Road is the next one. Jason, not one to mince his words, immediately says, “What? Are we effing insane? That stadium is miles away. This is a k@k idea. Let’s walk back to your flat and take a car.” It’s funny because as soon as he said that, we all immediately agreed and turned around. It was a case of all of us thinking what a k@k idea this was, but just not really wanting to say anything about it. Phew! But the funniest part is that we had lost about 45 minutes all
in all, and the only thing we had achieved was, wait, it was nothing. Oh, wait, the exercise counts for something, right?
in all, and the only thing we had achieved was, wait, it was nothing. Oh, wait, the exercise counts for something, right?
Ten minutes later, we were far a far more festive bunch all packed into Ettiene’s car. We would find parking somewhere, we all agreed. We ended up parking somewhere near the top of Mount
Road, stumbled all the way down, before being rescued by a minibus taxi. The taxi was doing trips to and from the stadium from outside the Pitch and Putter for only R5 per person. Deal. It’s funny how when white okes in big groups, wearing Springbok jerseys mission in a taxi, we feel like we’re being more patriotic, or something. The taxi was amazing, by the way – the driver was
pumping ‘Hier kom die Bokke.’ Someone pointed out that it is probably the only song that poor driver heard all day. So, after all of that fuss and kafuffle, we found ourselves happy and smiling at the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium, with ice-cold beers in hand. I can still hear that bloody song in my head though – "Cho-cho Bokke, cho-cho Bokke...hooka chucka...” (There, now you’re stuck with it for a while)
Road, stumbled all the way down, before being rescued by a minibus taxi. The taxi was doing trips to and from the stadium from outside the Pitch and Putter for only R5 per person. Deal. It’s funny how when white okes in big groups, wearing Springbok jerseys mission in a taxi, we feel like we’re being more patriotic, or something. The taxi was amazing, by the way – the driver was
pumping ‘Hier kom die Bokke.’ Someone pointed out that it is probably the only song that poor driver heard all day. So, after all of that fuss and kafuffle, we found ourselves happy and smiling at the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium, with ice-cold beers in hand. I can still hear that bloody song in my head though – "Cho-cho Bokke, cho-cho Bokke...hooka chucka...” (There, now you’re stuck with it for a while)
What a game. What an atmosphere. What an event. Well done, Port Elizabeth. We don’t mess around when it comes to these things. Small PE has a lot of heart. A hell of a lot. It makes me happy. SA 15 – 8 New Zealand. Thank you very much.
Wait, you’re probably still wondering what was so important on my BlackBerry that I was completely oblivious to my surroundings for around ten minutes. Well, it is quite simple:
A very healthy little boy named Blake William Stewart was born in Port Elizabeth at 7:41 on Saturday morning. He popped out, with a panic-stricken look on his face, and immediately said, “Did I miss the match?” Congratulations to Paul and Shelly. I have a feeling Blake will be a Springbok.
A very healthy little boy named Blake William Stewart was born in Port Elizabeth at 7:41 on Saturday morning. He popped out, with a panic-stricken look on his face, and immediately said, “Did I miss the match?” Congratulations to Paul and Shelly. I have a feeling Blake will be a Springbok.
And no, I’m not doing predictions for the Rugby World Cup. Go away.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The 'Weakened' Squad
As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the August 2011 edition of SPORTElizabeth.
There was hope once again. But, then again, there always is. As much as we acknowledge in the weeks leading up to the match that the Springboks will be a fragile, tentative unit with the at least 21 of the leading players out injured, we are South African sports fans and deep down most of us would have harboured at least some hope. And don’t tell me you didn’t because then the question is why were you were glued to your screen throughout the duration of the match? And if you weren’t because you really did think it would be a waste of time, then well done, but in that case, I’d rather have you shouting for the All Blacks or (for that matter) Australia during the Rugby World Cup.
As I write this, the opening match of the Castle Lager Trinations between South Africa and Australia in Sydney has just ended, and there are a number of issues I’d like to discuss with regard to today’s 39 – 20 loss, as well as the tournament in general. Firstly, let’s go back to the selection of the Springbok squad for the away leg of the Trinations. As expected, there was a great deal of banter from the Australian and New Zealand media (although, especially the Australians in my opinion) as they accused the Springbok selectors of picking a weakened squad in order to rest key players for this year’s World Cup in New Zealand. All in all, 21 top players were ostensibly receiving treatment for a variety of different injuries, and as a result, were ostensibly unable to hop on board that (faulty) Qantas plane. This is nothing new – Jake White did the same thing in 2007, and also found himself in the line of fire as he too was accused of insulting the Trinations tournament etc etc.
Something I did not know until very recently is that the SANZAR countries have all signed an agreement forbidding them to intentionally field ‘weakened’ squads for any Trinations match(es). Now, is it just me, or are the holes in that so-called agreement bigger than those found in the Bok defence today? My first problem is: Please define a ‘weakened squad.’ Secondly, who decides what a weakened squad is? And why doesn’t that person just select all three squads for the Trinations and be done with it? Thirdly, please do me a favour and define exactly what an ‘acceptable injury’ is according to this agreement. These are all questions which I believe cannot be answered objectively. If Springbok doctor Craig Roberts decides that it is in Bakkies Botha’s best interests that he does not take to the field, who has the authority to override that? Forget the authority, who has the courage to do so? I say ‘courage’ because should you force an injured player to take to the field, and the injury worsens, surely you should then be held accountable. As such, in my opinion that agreement is flawed in so many ways.
Let’s now look even further than the obvious case of a player suffering a hamstring strain, for example, and physically not being able to play rugby. If Springbok management decides that Bakkies Botha is not injured, as such, but is definitely suffering from serious fatigue having been completely overplayed of late, surely selecting Bakkies would then be fielding a ‘weaker team,’ not so? For instance, if we could see a graph for Bakkies – much the same as the players’ profiles on PS3 or Xbox rugby games – his skill bar might be higher than most other locks in the country, but his energy bar would be at zero, bringing his average right down; in turn meaning that he would be the ‘weaker’ option. But, we do not have such graphs available to us in the real world, and it would all be a matter of opinion anyway, bringing me back to my argument that firstly, the agreement is a farce, and secondly, it cannot be enforced objectively.
In the end, nothing much came of it, and I don’t care much whether the players are injured or not – I am just really relieved that they are eventually getting the rest Prof. Tim Noakes has spoken about for years now. This is very difficult to say, and I know that it is probably rubbish, but I said it before the Trinations started: “I don’t care what happens during this year’s Trinations. All I care about is the Springboks becoming the first ever team to actually defend the William Webb Ellis Trophy. If it really gets too bad to watch, I’ll gladly dust off my 1995 and 2007 RWC dvds and watch them. On repeat. If necessary, over and over again.”
I promised I would discuss today’s match too, so here goes: The Springbok defence was an absolute shambles, Quade Cooper is possibly the most annoyingly good rugby player in the world, and the Springbok defence was a shambles. I also do feel that John Smit is now passed his expiry date. He had one or two good moments, and even scored a try, but I really can no longer watch him puff and pant his way around the field. Surely it is no secret that Bismarck is not only the better option, but possibly even the best hooker in the world. Take John Smit to the World Cup, sure – his experience is invaluable – but let the man mentor the team, while his fitter, more energetic compatriots take to the field. Anyway, I must run – the 1995 Springbok squad has just run onto the field at Ellis Park and I have a beer waiting.
There was hope once again. But, then again, there always is. As much as we acknowledge in the weeks leading up to the match that the Springboks will be a fragile, tentative unit with the at least 21 of the leading players out injured, we are South African sports fans and deep down most of us would have harboured at least some hope. And don’t tell me you didn’t because then the question is why were you were glued to your screen throughout the duration of the match? And if you weren’t because you really did think it would be a waste of time, then well done, but in that case, I’d rather have you shouting for the All Blacks or (for that matter) Australia during the Rugby World Cup.
As I write this, the opening match of the Castle Lager Trinations between South Africa and Australia in Sydney has just ended, and there are a number of issues I’d like to discuss with regard to today’s 39 – 20 loss, as well as the tournament in general. Firstly, let’s go back to the selection of the Springbok squad for the away leg of the Trinations. As expected, there was a great deal of banter from the Australian and New Zealand media (although, especially the Australians in my opinion) as they accused the Springbok selectors of picking a weakened squad in order to rest key players for this year’s World Cup in New Zealand. All in all, 21 top players were ostensibly receiving treatment for a variety of different injuries, and as a result, were ostensibly unable to hop on board that (faulty) Qantas plane. This is nothing new – Jake White did the same thing in 2007, and also found himself in the line of fire as he too was accused of insulting the Trinations tournament etc etc.
Something I did not know until very recently is that the SANZAR countries have all signed an agreement forbidding them to intentionally field ‘weakened’ squads for any Trinations match(es). Now, is it just me, or are the holes in that so-called agreement bigger than those found in the Bok defence today? My first problem is: Please define a ‘weakened squad.’ Secondly, who decides what a weakened squad is? And why doesn’t that person just select all three squads for the Trinations and be done with it? Thirdly, please do me a favour and define exactly what an ‘acceptable injury’ is according to this agreement. These are all questions which I believe cannot be answered objectively. If Springbok doctor Craig Roberts decides that it is in Bakkies Botha’s best interests that he does not take to the field, who has the authority to override that? Forget the authority, who has the courage to do so? I say ‘courage’ because should you force an injured player to take to the field, and the injury worsens, surely you should then be held accountable. As such, in my opinion that agreement is flawed in so many ways.
Let’s now look even further than the obvious case of a player suffering a hamstring strain, for example, and physically not being able to play rugby. If Springbok management decides that Bakkies Botha is not injured, as such, but is definitely suffering from serious fatigue having been completely overplayed of late, surely selecting Bakkies would then be fielding a ‘weaker team,’ not so? For instance, if we could see a graph for Bakkies – much the same as the players’ profiles on PS3 or Xbox rugby games – his skill bar might be higher than most other locks in the country, but his energy bar would be at zero, bringing his average right down; in turn meaning that he would be the ‘weaker’ option. But, we do not have such graphs available to us in the real world, and it would all be a matter of opinion anyway, bringing me back to my argument that firstly, the agreement is a farce, and secondly, it cannot be enforced objectively.
In the end, nothing much came of it, and I don’t care much whether the players are injured or not – I am just really relieved that they are eventually getting the rest Prof. Tim Noakes has spoken about for years now. This is very difficult to say, and I know that it is probably rubbish, but I said it before the Trinations started: “I don’t care what happens during this year’s Trinations. All I care about is the Springboks becoming the first ever team to actually defend the William Webb Ellis Trophy. If it really gets too bad to watch, I’ll gladly dust off my 1995 and 2007 RWC dvds and watch them. On repeat. If necessary, over and over again.”
I promised I would discuss today’s match too, so here goes: The Springbok defence was an absolute shambles, Quade Cooper is possibly the most annoyingly good rugby player in the world, and the Springbok defence was a shambles. I also do feel that John Smit is now passed his expiry date. He had one or two good moments, and even scored a try, but I really can no longer watch him puff and pant his way around the field. Surely it is no secret that Bismarck is not only the better option, but possibly even the best hooker in the world. Take John Smit to the World Cup, sure – his experience is invaluable – but let the man mentor the team, while his fitter, more energetic compatriots take to the field. Anyway, I must run – the 1995 Springbok squad has just run onto the field at Ellis Park and I have a beer waiting.
Crisis? What Crisis?
As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the July 2011 edition of SPORTElizabeth.
It was a description I used during the event, and I am going to go with it again as what started out as a somewhat tongue-in-cheek, yet somewhat critical and cynical perception is now starting to appear all the more appropriate. I described South Africa as that friend in the group that is extremely desperate to make friends and to cement his/her place in the clique. That friend (let’s call him Zakumi) in the group is usually abused, as his desperation is taken advantage of. A possible consequence is that the other friends in the clique will often arrange big parties at Zakumi’s lavish mansion, invite all their other friends, take over, make/change the rules, make a mess, rearrange all the furniture, and while doing so, pretend it’s all for Zakumi’s sake and that he will definitely benefit as a result. Zakumi, drunk on euphoria and carefully crafted and well-rehearsed rhetoric, dances with, while being careful not to break any of the rules set by his new friends at his own house. After all, he is fortunate to have all these new friends. Zakumi has a ball. His friends leave, and it is only when that bright, unbearable morning sun of sobriety kicks in that Zakumi suspects that just maybe he has been abused.
Pretty much exactly a year ago, the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa (goosebumps) was in full swing, and we were entertaining the world. We did a fantastic job, it must be said. What made it all the more special was the fact that not only did the foreign (British) press vociferously doubt our ability, but, if some of us are honest enough to admit it, more than half of South Africans were mumbling their fears and doubts under their breaths at bar counters across the country. “It’s going to be the biggest flop of the century, you wait and see,” is what one particular gentleman said to me one night. I have since spoken to that person, and yes, I could not resist the old, “I told you so!”
So, we’ve established that we as South Africans did ourselves proud, but what concerns me is that our ‘friends’ might not have entirely honoured their part of the deal. I am of course referring to the big FIFA scandal that has recently rocked world football. In saying this, I think I do probably owe the English FA and its media an apology so here it is: “I am sorry I called you all childish, arrogant and petulant poms when you cried foul as soon as Qatar was awarded the hosting rights for the 2022 FIFA World Cup.” There, I said it. If you’ve even happened to glance at a sports page during the past month or two, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about here.
A long story short: It has come to light that there is (and possibly always has been) serious corruption within the ranks of FIFA, involving accusations ranging from money laundering, illegal ticket selling and of course, bribery and corruption in form of the sale of votes. It was revealed a short while ago that Issa Hayatou from Cameroon and Jacques Anouma from the Ivory Coast received bribes of 1.5 million dollars to vote for Qatar's 2022 bid. Meanwhile, Lord David Triesman, the chairman of England's 2018 bid until his resignation in May last year, accused four FIFA officials of ‘improper and unethical’ behaviour ahead of last December's vote in Zurich. The rot doesn’t stop there. Sepp Blatter’s only opposition in the recent FIFA presidency election, Mohamed Bin Hammam allegedly also tried to bribe officials to vote for him. Britain’s Press Association also reports that there is ‘comprehensive, convincing and overwhelming’ evidence against the head of the Asian Football Association, Hammam, and that former FIFA vice-president Jack Warner was an accessory to corruption.
What’s happened now is that (surprise, surprise!) Sepp Blatter was re-elected unopposed for his fourth stint as FIFA president, and (surprise, surprise!), Blatter has vowed to clean up FIFA. Warner has resigned from his position and ended all involvement with football. As a result (surprise, surprise!), FIFA has dropped all investigations into the Trinidadian, who now (allegedly) has enough money to relocate to the moon. It seems Warner will never have to answer any questions. That is very, very convenient for FIFA.
Personally, I don’t trust one of them, and without saying too much, I feel a clean-out of FIFA is not possible until Blatter is scrubbed out of his position too. FIFA needs to be completely disbanded and a whole new organisation created if the credibility of world football is to be restored. The story is much longer and more involved than what I am able to narrate in this short space, but I urge you to do some research in order to get more of the story. There is even evidence of an email sent by (our friend) FIFA Secretary-General Jérôme Valcke, implying that Qatar had in fact bought the rights for the 2022 World Cup. Go check it all out. It might or might not shock you. Me? I wasn’t very shocked at all.
So, how does this affect South Africa? Well, firstly, we are unable to look back at the 2010 World Cup without wondering in what way we were robbed by FIFA. Or, was South Africa awarded the 2010 World Cup fairly, or did someone somewhere promise something? How much money (if any) did we pay to host the spectacle? One cannot help posing these questions now, and it leaves a bitter taste. BBC reporter, Neal Collins, who has been extensively investigating and reporting on the FIFA scandal, is convinced Sepp Blatter and his gang took far more out of South Africa than what they should have. Speaking in the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM last month, Collins said as part of the World Cup deal, South Africa had to sign an agreement with FIFA that it may freely move undisclosed foreign currency around the country. Collins says he believes FIFA took full advantage of this, and claims to have seen documents that indicate FIFA grabbed approximately 10 billion dollars out of its rendezvous with South Africa. Let’s even halve that, and work out how many South Africans we can feed, house, employ and heal.
That’s a summary of the ongoing saga at FIFA, and it amazes me how Blatter is allowed to remain so nonchalant about it all. “Crisis? What crisis?” is what Blatter said a day after Hammam and Warner became the third and fourth of FIFA’s 24 most senior members to be suspended over corruption allegations in the past six months.
To end on a good note, it has been reliably confirmed that Zakumi is doing well. Shortly after the 2010 World Cup, he was lucky enough to join Algoa FM journalist, Bennie Visser on a cruise to Europe where I hear they got up to all sorts of mischief. Well, not the level of mischief we’ve been discussing here of course, but there are rumours of a very long and foggy trip in Amsterdam. Crisis? What crisis? According to Bennie, Zakumi is doing just fine.
(PS: Ok, I did apologise, but give me some credit here. The poms are (sometimes) childish, arrogant and petulant. Exhibit A: Stuart Broad.)
It was a description I used during the event, and I am going to go with it again as what started out as a somewhat tongue-in-cheek, yet somewhat critical and cynical perception is now starting to appear all the more appropriate. I described South Africa as that friend in the group that is extremely desperate to make friends and to cement his/her place in the clique. That friend (let’s call him Zakumi) in the group is usually abused, as his desperation is taken advantage of. A possible consequence is that the other friends in the clique will often arrange big parties at Zakumi’s lavish mansion, invite all their other friends, take over, make/change the rules, make a mess, rearrange all the furniture, and while doing so, pretend it’s all for Zakumi’s sake and that he will definitely benefit as a result. Zakumi, drunk on euphoria and carefully crafted and well-rehearsed rhetoric, dances with, while being careful not to break any of the rules set by his new friends at his own house. After all, he is fortunate to have all these new friends. Zakumi has a ball. His friends leave, and it is only when that bright, unbearable morning sun of sobriety kicks in that Zakumi suspects that just maybe he has been abused.
Pretty much exactly a year ago, the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa (goosebumps) was in full swing, and we were entertaining the world. We did a fantastic job, it must be said. What made it all the more special was the fact that not only did the foreign (British) press vociferously doubt our ability, but, if some of us are honest enough to admit it, more than half of South Africans were mumbling their fears and doubts under their breaths at bar counters across the country. “It’s going to be the biggest flop of the century, you wait and see,” is what one particular gentleman said to me one night. I have since spoken to that person, and yes, I could not resist the old, “I told you so!”
So, we’ve established that we as South Africans did ourselves proud, but what concerns me is that our ‘friends’ might not have entirely honoured their part of the deal. I am of course referring to the big FIFA scandal that has recently rocked world football. In saying this, I think I do probably owe the English FA and its media an apology so here it is: “I am sorry I called you all childish, arrogant and petulant poms when you cried foul as soon as Qatar was awarded the hosting rights for the 2022 FIFA World Cup.” There, I said it. If you’ve even happened to glance at a sports page during the past month or two, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about here.
A long story short: It has come to light that there is (and possibly always has been) serious corruption within the ranks of FIFA, involving accusations ranging from money laundering, illegal ticket selling and of course, bribery and corruption in form of the sale of votes. It was revealed a short while ago that Issa Hayatou from Cameroon and Jacques Anouma from the Ivory Coast received bribes of 1.5 million dollars to vote for Qatar's 2022 bid. Meanwhile, Lord David Triesman, the chairman of England's 2018 bid until his resignation in May last year, accused four FIFA officials of ‘improper and unethical’ behaviour ahead of last December's vote in Zurich. The rot doesn’t stop there. Sepp Blatter’s only opposition in the recent FIFA presidency election, Mohamed Bin Hammam allegedly also tried to bribe officials to vote for him. Britain’s Press Association also reports that there is ‘comprehensive, convincing and overwhelming’ evidence against the head of the Asian Football Association, Hammam, and that former FIFA vice-president Jack Warner was an accessory to corruption.
What’s happened now is that (surprise, surprise!) Sepp Blatter was re-elected unopposed for his fourth stint as FIFA president, and (surprise, surprise!), Blatter has vowed to clean up FIFA. Warner has resigned from his position and ended all involvement with football. As a result (surprise, surprise!), FIFA has dropped all investigations into the Trinidadian, who now (allegedly) has enough money to relocate to the moon. It seems Warner will never have to answer any questions. That is very, very convenient for FIFA.
Personally, I don’t trust one of them, and without saying too much, I feel a clean-out of FIFA is not possible until Blatter is scrubbed out of his position too. FIFA needs to be completely disbanded and a whole new organisation created if the credibility of world football is to be restored. The story is much longer and more involved than what I am able to narrate in this short space, but I urge you to do some research in order to get more of the story. There is even evidence of an email sent by (our friend) FIFA Secretary-General Jérôme Valcke, implying that Qatar had in fact bought the rights for the 2022 World Cup. Go check it all out. It might or might not shock you. Me? I wasn’t very shocked at all.
So, how does this affect South Africa? Well, firstly, we are unable to look back at the 2010 World Cup without wondering in what way we were robbed by FIFA. Or, was South Africa awarded the 2010 World Cup fairly, or did someone somewhere promise something? How much money (if any) did we pay to host the spectacle? One cannot help posing these questions now, and it leaves a bitter taste. BBC reporter, Neal Collins, who has been extensively investigating and reporting on the FIFA scandal, is convinced Sepp Blatter and his gang took far more out of South Africa than what they should have. Speaking in the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM last month, Collins said as part of the World Cup deal, South Africa had to sign an agreement with FIFA that it may freely move undisclosed foreign currency around the country. Collins says he believes FIFA took full advantage of this, and claims to have seen documents that indicate FIFA grabbed approximately 10 billion dollars out of its rendezvous with South Africa. Let’s even halve that, and work out how many South Africans we can feed, house, employ and heal.
That’s a summary of the ongoing saga at FIFA, and it amazes me how Blatter is allowed to remain so nonchalant about it all. “Crisis? What crisis?” is what Blatter said a day after Hammam and Warner became the third and fourth of FIFA’s 24 most senior members to be suspended over corruption allegations in the past six months.
To end on a good note, it has been reliably confirmed that Zakumi is doing well. Shortly after the 2010 World Cup, he was lucky enough to join Algoa FM journalist, Bennie Visser on a cruise to Europe where I hear they got up to all sorts of mischief. Well, not the level of mischief we’ve been discussing here of course, but there are rumours of a very long and foggy trip in Amsterdam. Crisis? What crisis? According to Bennie, Zakumi is doing just fine.
(PS: Ok, I did apologise, but give me some credit here. The poms are (sometimes) childish, arrogant and petulant. Exhibit A: Stuart Broad.)
The Five Minute Post
As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the June 2011 edition of SPORTElizabeth.
Before I start, I want you to tell me how many flags there are on a rugby field. Think about it. How many?
I have always said, “Trophies must change hands.” I believe it is good for sport. It keeps sport healthy, and more importantly, in doing so, it keeps viewers guessing, hoping, crying, laughing, singing, while glued to their screens, seats or deck chairs every weekend. It is for this reason (and a few others!) that I am not fond of teams such as Manchester United and the Bulls. See, I was nice. I said, ‘not fond of.’ Dammit man! NINETEEN English Premier League titles? Really? That’s a whole lot more than I’ve managed in my...ahem, 20-odd years. As much as it pains to say it, Man United really are possibly the best football club the world has ever seen. There, I said it. Happy now?
On that note, the humble, but quietly confident quartet of Daron Mann, Suren Packery, Viv Bozack and yours truly headed down to the Presidents Suite at St George’s Park on Tuesday 17 May at around about 18.30 or so. The reason I am so vague about the time is because it was an issue of much stress and panic as we got our wires all crossed, thinking the Port Elizabeth leg of the Supersport Media Quiz was due to start at 7pm. I arrived at around 18.31, and was told by the sometimes hilarious, and sometimes, well, just sometimes, quiz master and host for the evening, Neil Andrews that the quiz was going to start, “In five minutes, whether your team is here or not.” As we were the defending national champions (yes, national champions) the other teams supported this notion 100%.
“Daron! Daron! Where are you? Neil says the quiz is going to start in five minutes,” shouts a panic-stricken Rory into his cellphone. “Oh, @#&*, I’m probably five to ten minutes away. Do what you can!” says Daron. Next call was to Suren, who also said he was about five minutes away. Finally, a call to Viv to learn that he hadn’t yet left the house. Guess how long Viv said he’d be. Yes, that’s right – five minutes.
I must say though, you just have to love Port Elizabeth. Whether you are stuck in Govan Mbeki Avenue on your way to Greenbushes (on foot – not even feet), or whether you’re in Heugh Road, Walmer making your way to Sherwood in rush hour traffic (on horseback), you always get to say, “I’ll be there in five minutes.” This, however, is no longer the case. PE has grown. We now have at least fifteen unnecessary shopping centres, each complete with their own set of completely unnecessary traffic lights. These traffic lights are always red when you approach them, whether you’re leaving the shopping centre, or just trying to make your way down Main Road, Walmer. This must have been the case on Tuesday night for Daron, Suren and Viv.
To cut an already long story slightly shorter, after waiting around eight minutes, Neil (Andrews) said he could wait no longer, and needed to at least proceed with his welcoming speech, as well as a short reminder of the rules. He promised me he would speak slowly to give my team, who was only five minutes away, a chance to arrive. During his little speech, I kept turning around every 7 – 9 seconds to check the door hoping for the arrival of at least one of my team members. I realise now that my constant and repetitive ‘twitch’ must have looked something like that of Harry Redknapp’s on an average afternoon at White Hart Lane.
First to arrive was Viv. A little longer than the five minutes promised, but we’ll call it approximately 11 minutes. About 4 minutes later, Suren arrived, at which point I received a BlackBerry message from Daron saying he was, “Close by – 3 minutes.” Taking into account Daron lives somewhere near Seaview, I assume when he said he was ‘five minutes away’ he was probably getting into the shower. It’s Port Elizabeth – we get to say that here!
I feel the need to remind you at this point that the four of us, previously known as ‘Sharapova’s Love Slaves’ were the defending national champions. That is, we had won last year’s PE leg, and then gone on to win the national event in Durban a few months later. The heat was on. Operating under a different name this year, courtesy of Suren, who decided on the ‘Tamil Tigers,’ we were under pressure to retain our title. It was Suren’s farewell party at Algoa FM that same day, so we were hoping to send him off in style in this, his swansong.
At the halfway point, the Tamil Tigers were leading by just one point. It was oh so tight, and Neil warned us that at none of the other regional events around the country had the team that was leading at the halfway stage gone on to win it. Sadly for the Tamil Tigers, it was to remain that way. We were beaten by an excellent team from Media 24, with the boys from the Herald taking second spot. We ended third for our efforts, which earned us each a brand new DSTV HD PVR 2P decoder. First prize was a rather fancy Sony digital camcorder, while Alvin Reeves and Chumani Bambani and their teammates from the Herald each bagged an Apple iBook. But more important than the Sony camcorder, is the fact that the guys from Media 24 will represent the region at the nationals in Cape Town in August. I have already reminded them of the shoes they need to fill.
The other team from Algoa FM/Sport Elizabeth was made up of Neil Bisseker, Shadley Nash, Jason Kümm and guest, Derryn Opperman. I think they ended fifth. Top effort all round. The best part? The trophy changed hands. (That’s what I keep telling myself!)
A big thanks once again to Craig Stirk, Marilyn Mendelsohn, Neil Andrews and the rest of the team from Supersport for another incredible evening. All the best to the Media 24 team as they take on the country in Cape Town.
And, what did I learn from the whole experience? There are 16 flags on a rugby field, there are 336 dimples on a golf ball, and Timo Glock believes his recent appendix removal will improve his lap times. How long did it take me to write June 2011’s edition of the Blog Roll? Yes, that’s right – no more than five minutes.
Before I start, I want you to tell me how many flags there are on a rugby field. Think about it. How many?
I have always said, “Trophies must change hands.” I believe it is good for sport. It keeps sport healthy, and more importantly, in doing so, it keeps viewers guessing, hoping, crying, laughing, singing, while glued to their screens, seats or deck chairs every weekend. It is for this reason (and a few others!) that I am not fond of teams such as Manchester United and the Bulls. See, I was nice. I said, ‘not fond of.’ Dammit man! NINETEEN English Premier League titles? Really? That’s a whole lot more than I’ve managed in my...ahem, 20-odd years. As much as it pains to say it, Man United really are possibly the best football club the world has ever seen. There, I said it. Happy now?
On that note, the humble, but quietly confident quartet of Daron Mann, Suren Packery, Viv Bozack and yours truly headed down to the Presidents Suite at St George’s Park on Tuesday 17 May at around about 18.30 or so. The reason I am so vague about the time is because it was an issue of much stress and panic as we got our wires all crossed, thinking the Port Elizabeth leg of the Supersport Media Quiz was due to start at 7pm. I arrived at around 18.31, and was told by the sometimes hilarious, and sometimes, well, just sometimes, quiz master and host for the evening, Neil Andrews that the quiz was going to start, “In five minutes, whether your team is here or not.” As we were the defending national champions (yes, national champions) the other teams supported this notion 100%.
“Daron! Daron! Where are you? Neil says the quiz is going to start in five minutes,” shouts a panic-stricken Rory into his cellphone. “Oh, @#&*, I’m probably five to ten minutes away. Do what you can!” says Daron. Next call was to Suren, who also said he was about five minutes away. Finally, a call to Viv to learn that he hadn’t yet left the house. Guess how long Viv said he’d be. Yes, that’s right – five minutes.
I must say though, you just have to love Port Elizabeth. Whether you are stuck in Govan Mbeki Avenue on your way to Greenbushes (on foot – not even feet), or whether you’re in Heugh Road, Walmer making your way to Sherwood in rush hour traffic (on horseback), you always get to say, “I’ll be there in five minutes.” This, however, is no longer the case. PE has grown. We now have at least fifteen unnecessary shopping centres, each complete with their own set of completely unnecessary traffic lights. These traffic lights are always red when you approach them, whether you’re leaving the shopping centre, or just trying to make your way down Main Road, Walmer. This must have been the case on Tuesday night for Daron, Suren and Viv.
To cut an already long story slightly shorter, after waiting around eight minutes, Neil (Andrews) said he could wait no longer, and needed to at least proceed with his welcoming speech, as well as a short reminder of the rules. He promised me he would speak slowly to give my team, who was only five minutes away, a chance to arrive. During his little speech, I kept turning around every 7 – 9 seconds to check the door hoping for the arrival of at least one of my team members. I realise now that my constant and repetitive ‘twitch’ must have looked something like that of Harry Redknapp’s on an average afternoon at White Hart Lane.
First to arrive was Viv. A little longer than the five minutes promised, but we’ll call it approximately 11 minutes. About 4 minutes later, Suren arrived, at which point I received a BlackBerry message from Daron saying he was, “Close by – 3 minutes.” Taking into account Daron lives somewhere near Seaview, I assume when he said he was ‘five minutes away’ he was probably getting into the shower. It’s Port Elizabeth – we get to say that here!
I feel the need to remind you at this point that the four of us, previously known as ‘Sharapova’s Love Slaves’ were the defending national champions. That is, we had won last year’s PE leg, and then gone on to win the national event in Durban a few months later. The heat was on. Operating under a different name this year, courtesy of Suren, who decided on the ‘Tamil Tigers,’ we were under pressure to retain our title. It was Suren’s farewell party at Algoa FM that same day, so we were hoping to send him off in style in this, his swansong.
At the halfway point, the Tamil Tigers were leading by just one point. It was oh so tight, and Neil warned us that at none of the other regional events around the country had the team that was leading at the halfway stage gone on to win it. Sadly for the Tamil Tigers, it was to remain that way. We were beaten by an excellent team from Media 24, with the boys from the Herald taking second spot. We ended third for our efforts, which earned us each a brand new DSTV HD PVR 2P decoder. First prize was a rather fancy Sony digital camcorder, while Alvin Reeves and Chumani Bambani and their teammates from the Herald each bagged an Apple iBook. But more important than the Sony camcorder, is the fact that the guys from Media 24 will represent the region at the nationals in Cape Town in August. I have already reminded them of the shoes they need to fill.
The other team from Algoa FM/Sport Elizabeth was made up of Neil Bisseker, Shadley Nash, Jason Kümm and guest, Derryn Opperman. I think they ended fifth. Top effort all round. The best part? The trophy changed hands. (That’s what I keep telling myself!)
A big thanks once again to Craig Stirk, Marilyn Mendelsohn, Neil Andrews and the rest of the team from Supersport for another incredible evening. All the best to the Media 24 team as they take on the country in Cape Town.
And, what did I learn from the whole experience? There are 16 flags on a rugby field, there are 336 dimples on a golf ball, and Timo Glock believes his recent appendix removal will improve his lap times. How long did it take me to write June 2011’s edition of the Blog Roll? Yes, that’s right – no more than five minutes.
A Mascot named Choker Bear
As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the May 2011 edtion of SPORTElizabeth
It was scripted. It had to happen. And it did! Well, not entirely as I had written it, but almost. After I had recovered from South Africa’s devastating/disappointing/anticipated/disastrous/anticipated Cricket World Cup quarter-final loss to New Zealand, I decided that the next best thing would be for India to win their own (shared) World Cup at home. I said this for two reasons: Firstly, because it would just not be right for batting and general cricketing legend Sachin Tendulkar to never get the chance to lift the Cricket World Cup, and secondly, of course because our very own Gary Kirsten was their coach. I didn’t stop there though.
I’m greedy when it comes to sports results and as much as India’s win at home was near perfect, it wasn’t 100% perfect. I wanted two things to happen on 2 April 2011: Firstly, for India to beat Sri Lanka, and secondly, for that little master Sachin to become the first person ever to score 100 ODI centuries. The latter was not to be, so I had to tinker with my script post-match. In saying all of that though, there really can be no better way for a coach of any team to depart, “Here’s the World Cup. Enjoy it and keep it safe. I’m off!” Yes, I know, Jake White did the same thing, however, if you can remember, the divorce wasn’t quite as amicable. It was more a case of, ‘Here’s the World Cup. Now let’s have a fallout and allow SARU to descend back into the chaos it’s so notorious for!”
I want to speak about cricket for a little while longer here, and particularly the Proteas. Yes, again. I have done some thinking, and have had some time to cool off and think things through, and there are maybe a few things that weren’t clear in my April ranting. Firstly, I’d like to discuss that ‘choke’ tag. My main issue with the word is the power it now has to affect the team in future ICC tournaments. What I mean is that it is usually the very same people that bandy the term about so freely before and during any ICC tournament, who are the first to pull out their knives when what they were expecting to happen unfolds. It really has become a perfect case of our good old (late) friend and acclaimed sociologist Robert K. Merton’s ‘self-fulfilling prophecy.’ For instance, I feel we have reached a stage where it is only happening because we’re all anticipating it. In the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM recently, Johan Botha admitted as much when he said that the feeling in the team while on the field, and while batting during that loss to the Black Caps, was quite clearly one of apprehension. Botha said that throughout the match, one could just feel that this was different. Right, so we now know this. We also know for a fact (yes, a fact!) that the word ‘choke’ is never, ever going to go away. I’m willing to bet that even WHEN the Proteas win the 2015 Cricket World Cup (I’m starting already!), the word might briefly stick its tail between its legs and scurry off to a dark, dusty corner, but make no mistake, it will be ready to pounce at the very next available opportunity. After all it is language, and when language gets going, it takes a lot more than one ICC trophy (for instance) to slow its momentum.
So, if the word ‘choker’ is never going to disappear, and we have learned that sweeping it under the rug only makes matters worse, then what are we to do with it? Come a little closer because I might just have a suggestion. Firstly, I would urge the makers of the official Proteas shirts, addidas, to embroider the word ‘Choker’ in tiny black print on the inside of the collar. Not too big, but also not too small that it cannot be read. I know this all sounds crazy, but give me a chance here. The next thing I’d do is release a statement from Cricket South Africa advising the world of the small change in design, as well as openly admitting that the ‘South African national cricket team always has been, and possibly always will, only be made up of 100%, proudly South African Chokers.’ Thirdly, it should be in the captain’s brief that at every possible press conference, and every toss during any ICC tournament, the word ‘choker’ (or a derivative thereof) needs to be used. Allow me to give an example:
Presenter: So, *insert newly named SA captain name here*, you’ve decided to bat first. Why?
Newly named SA Captain: Well, it looks a good batting wicket up front, and it’s always nice to get some runs on the board and put the opposition under pressure. But, to be entirely honest, the beauty of it all is that, as you know, we’re just a bunch of chokers anyway, so we’re not really expecting too much from today’s match. Look here. It even says so under my collar!
I apologise, as I am unable to even anticipate what the presenter would say to that. But you get the idea. I have a suspicion that if there are any psychologists reading this, they’re probably bashing their fists at that little photo of me in the corner, as I suspect too, that according to proper practice, the very last thing one does if one wants to win, is even pretend to expect to lose. I know this. I am sorry, but I think we have tried everything else. And besides, we’ve always expected to lose – we’ve just never before openly admitted it.
What we’d achieve if my idea is put into practice is, if nothing else, we’d put the international/opposition media in a profound quandary as to its next attack. In short, the ‘choker’ tag will no longer be a weapon for the media or, and possibly more significantly, the opposition. Why? Because our boys would have ripped it out from under that dirty rug and embraced it, instead of tip-toeing around it and pretending it doesn’t exist. And then, ladies and gentlemen, I believe the elephant might just leave the room.
Finally, one more suggestion before I go: A little national cricket mascot named ‘Choker Bear’ wouldn’t go amiss either!
It was scripted. It had to happen. And it did! Well, not entirely as I had written it, but almost. After I had recovered from South Africa’s devastating/disappointing/anticipated/disastrous/anticipated Cricket World Cup quarter-final loss to New Zealand, I decided that the next best thing would be for India to win their own (shared) World Cup at home. I said this for two reasons: Firstly, because it would just not be right for batting and general cricketing legend Sachin Tendulkar to never get the chance to lift the Cricket World Cup, and secondly, of course because our very own Gary Kirsten was their coach. I didn’t stop there though.
I’m greedy when it comes to sports results and as much as India’s win at home was near perfect, it wasn’t 100% perfect. I wanted two things to happen on 2 April 2011: Firstly, for India to beat Sri Lanka, and secondly, for that little master Sachin to become the first person ever to score 100 ODI centuries. The latter was not to be, so I had to tinker with my script post-match. In saying all of that though, there really can be no better way for a coach of any team to depart, “Here’s the World Cup. Enjoy it and keep it safe. I’m off!” Yes, I know, Jake White did the same thing, however, if you can remember, the divorce wasn’t quite as amicable. It was more a case of, ‘Here’s the World Cup. Now let’s have a fallout and allow SARU to descend back into the chaos it’s so notorious for!”
I want to speak about cricket for a little while longer here, and particularly the Proteas. Yes, again. I have done some thinking, and have had some time to cool off and think things through, and there are maybe a few things that weren’t clear in my April ranting. Firstly, I’d like to discuss that ‘choke’ tag. My main issue with the word is the power it now has to affect the team in future ICC tournaments. What I mean is that it is usually the very same people that bandy the term about so freely before and during any ICC tournament, who are the first to pull out their knives when what they were expecting to happen unfolds. It really has become a perfect case of our good old (late) friend and acclaimed sociologist Robert K. Merton’s ‘self-fulfilling prophecy.’ For instance, I feel we have reached a stage where it is only happening because we’re all anticipating it. In the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM recently, Johan Botha admitted as much when he said that the feeling in the team while on the field, and while batting during that loss to the Black Caps, was quite clearly one of apprehension. Botha said that throughout the match, one could just feel that this was different. Right, so we now know this. We also know for a fact (yes, a fact!) that the word ‘choke’ is never, ever going to go away. I’m willing to bet that even WHEN the Proteas win the 2015 Cricket World Cup (I’m starting already!), the word might briefly stick its tail between its legs and scurry off to a dark, dusty corner, but make no mistake, it will be ready to pounce at the very next available opportunity. After all it is language, and when language gets going, it takes a lot more than one ICC trophy (for instance) to slow its momentum.
So, if the word ‘choker’ is never going to disappear, and we have learned that sweeping it under the rug only makes matters worse, then what are we to do with it? Come a little closer because I might just have a suggestion. Firstly, I would urge the makers of the official Proteas shirts, addidas, to embroider the word ‘Choker’ in tiny black print on the inside of the collar. Not too big, but also not too small that it cannot be read. I know this all sounds crazy, but give me a chance here. The next thing I’d do is release a statement from Cricket South Africa advising the world of the small change in design, as well as openly admitting that the ‘South African national cricket team always has been, and possibly always will, only be made up of 100%, proudly South African Chokers.’ Thirdly, it should be in the captain’s brief that at every possible press conference, and every toss during any ICC tournament, the word ‘choker’ (or a derivative thereof) needs to be used. Allow me to give an example:
Presenter: So, *insert newly named SA captain name here*, you’ve decided to bat first. Why?
Newly named SA Captain: Well, it looks a good batting wicket up front, and it’s always nice to get some runs on the board and put the opposition under pressure. But, to be entirely honest, the beauty of it all is that, as you know, we’re just a bunch of chokers anyway, so we’re not really expecting too much from today’s match. Look here. It even says so under my collar!
I apologise, as I am unable to even anticipate what the presenter would say to that. But you get the idea. I have a suspicion that if there are any psychologists reading this, they’re probably bashing their fists at that little photo of me in the corner, as I suspect too, that according to proper practice, the very last thing one does if one wants to win, is even pretend to expect to lose. I know this. I am sorry, but I think we have tried everything else. And besides, we’ve always expected to lose – we’ve just never before openly admitted it.
What we’d achieve if my idea is put into practice is, if nothing else, we’d put the international/opposition media in a profound quandary as to its next attack. In short, the ‘choker’ tag will no longer be a weapon for the media or, and possibly more significantly, the opposition. Why? Because our boys would have ripped it out from under that dirty rug and embraced it, instead of tip-toeing around it and pretending it doesn’t exist. And then, ladies and gentlemen, I believe the elephant might just leave the room.
Finally, one more suggestion before I go: A little national cricket mascot named ‘Choker Bear’ wouldn’t go amiss either!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The 'C' Word
As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the April edition of SPORTElizabeth.
@##%$% %$*@#$% #%#%$^ #@#%@#%$. And, of course, #@#%$#$#^Y&. That is pretty much exactly what I said just after 6pm on Friday 18 March 2011. In fact, as much as I could believe it, at the same time, I could not. 108/2 and you lose it? New Zealand? Really? As is customary when speaking about the ‘less-respected’ cricketing teams, I’ll say the whole ‘no disrespect to the Black Caps’ thing, but for suck’s fake, come on. And for some reason, it just felt worse than all of those other World Cup knockout losses that came before. I think it is because this was THE World Cup. This was the one when all the commentators and cricketing gurus were saying, “This Proteas team has what it takes. Watch out world”. Do you know what? I still cannot believe it. This WAS the World Cup when we were supposed to all be teary eyed while we watch our boys drown in champagne and those little green and gold paper thingies.
And, we’re back in the room. In case I haven’t mentioned it, I am not at all happy at the moment, so I might not keep you too long. Well, it will be longer than the Proteas’ 2011 Cricket World Cup campaign. What went wrong? That’s the question that once again flies around, dominating pub conversations. I think the problem is that nothing went wrong. The only little hiccup along the way was the frustrating loss to England in the group stages. Other than that, the Proteas seemed to have all their bases covered. As Herschelle Gibbs said after the quarter-final loss, our boys had everything covered, except BMT. My girlfriend, Debby says that we’re all silly to keep on debating and discussing possible reasons for South Africa’s poor performances in World Cups, and especially their most recent loss. She says it’s nothing more than the fact that, unless it’s a tie of course, one team must win every match, and one team must lose – simple as that. Maybe Debby is onto something.
One thing that irritates me is the popular perception that the Proteas did not win the World Cup purely because Mark Boucher was not there. That really irritates me. It’s as if Bouch has won every World Cup in which he’s played. I’m also a big Boucher fan, but let’s not get lost in a little fantasy world here. What happened during all those other World Cups when he was there? There was absolutely nothing wrong with the team that lost to New Zealand that night. Yes, the selectors might have gone for the extra batsman, for instance, but come on, that still does not justify the loss of eight wickets for just 64 runs against a very average bowling attack. Yes, they say, but Boucher has BMT – he would have rescued the innings towards the end. Ok, love. Hashim Amla, Graeme Smith, AB De Villiers, Jacques Kallis, JP Duminy, Faf Du Plessis and Johan Botha should all have ‘rescued the innings towards the end’. Dammit, if they had each just scored their respective ODI batting averages, they would have danced through to the semi-final. It is a pity that cricket is not played on paper.
One thing that did strike me before the match is what New Zealand bowling coach, Allan Donald (I know, it hurts) said in the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM during the week. Donald said his team (ouch) is excited about playing against South Africa, and that of all the teams left in the competition, the Proteas would have been their first choice anyway. Whether that was some pre-match confidence banter or not, I do not know, but it worked. And I must admit, when he said that, I became a little unsettled. It is exactly that kind of attitude that wins World Cups. The problem for the Proteas, possibly, is that they thought the same thing about the Black Caps.
Another thing that irritates me (aren’t I just a bundle of fun today?) are those immediate post-match press conferences. That seems a little bit strange coming from a member of the media, but hear me out. What do you want a losing (or winning) captain to say 10 minutes after the match, that has not been said before? I spoke about this issue briefly when I discussed our Bok coach, Peter de Villiers a few months ago. For instance, one of the journos asked Smith, “What went wrong today?” Um, sorry sir, did you only just arrive at the match venue? What the hell do you expect Smith to say? Until I’ve had a proper conversation with each and every player in my team, nothing other than the loss of 8 wickets for 64 runs is what went wrong today, you stupid fool. And then the pointless questions continued, with Smith eventually saying that he has no idea what else to say. It was as if they had a big cake with the ‘c’ word inside it, and they were trying to coerce Smith to take a bit of the cake. I have just read that, and I have no idea where it came from. I’m going to leave it there. As in, much like a tortured Iraqi prisoner at Abu Ghraib, “You tell me what you want me to say, and I’ll say it so you can scribble it into your little notebook and write a nice, juicy story about why the Proteas lost another World Cup knockout match”. One of the ‘journalists’ (quotation marks intended) ostensibly tried to pose a question, but it seemed more like an insult or a direct verbal attack, as he played around with ‘choker’ and ‘joker’. Sorry sir, this is a press conference for big people. The kiddies’ playroom is just down the hall.
Yes, and that ‘c’ word, it’s old now. It has become the result, as well as the perfect evidence of, the self-fulfilling prophecy. Our ‘best friends in rugby’ the All Blacks are also victims of it. Language is a very, very powerful thing. So if you’re going to keep on using that silly little ‘c’ word, use it constructively and throw it at the All Blacks! I know, I know, we have a Rugby World Cup in September, but we’re talking about cricket now. The more you use the ‘c’ word, I start thinking of another delightful ‘c’ word to throw at you. So shut up, because you’re not making it any better, and the mindless echo of a concept you probably know very little about, really is not impressive.
I am not at all defending Smith in my ‘post-match press conference’ rant, but rather exploring the legitimacy of it. Smith is (was) the captain and it is his duty to face the media. I fully understand that news needs to be written and submitted immediately after the match, but the ability of a captain to fully comprehend the intricate details of a win or loss so soon afterwards is, I’m afraid, impossible. While we’re on Smith, there is no excuse for the fact that he did not arrive back in South Africa with his teammates, but rather flew straight to Ireland ‘to sort out some personal issues’. I wonder if he would have travelled straight to Ireland if the Proteas had won the World Cup. That is not good enough, Biff. Especially considering this was your last stint as ODI skipper. I cannot understand why he wasn’t forced to return home and accompany his ‘crew’ in facing the music. He could have travelled to Ireland from here. Poor show, Smith. Poor, poor show.
Amid all of this doom and gloom, there is some excitement ahead in that the Proteas will have a new coach and ODI captain very soon. I do think Corrie van Zyl did a magnificent job in such a short time though. There’s a ‘c’ word you can use. In fact there are two you can talk about over the next few weeks: captain and coach.
The Proteas’ next assignment is a series against Australia in October. Let’s leave that ‘c’ word alone and support the boys as they look to teach the Aussies a thing or two about cricket. After all, we have a World Cup in four years time and the preparation starts here. One of my good friends, Greig summed it all up quite beautifully in a ‘tweet’ shortly after the quarter-final loss. He said, “Our loveless and abusive marriage is taking strain. I’ll forgive you in the morning, Proteas. But tonight, you’re sleeping on the couch in the garage.” He also said what upset him most was not getting to see AB ride the umpire like a horse. I think I agree.
@##%$% %$*@#$% #%#%$^ #@#%@#%$. And, of course, #@#%$#$#^Y&. That is pretty much exactly what I said just after 6pm on Friday 18 March 2011. In fact, as much as I could believe it, at the same time, I could not. 108/2 and you lose it? New Zealand? Really? As is customary when speaking about the ‘less-respected’ cricketing teams, I’ll say the whole ‘no disrespect to the Black Caps’ thing, but for suck’s fake, come on. And for some reason, it just felt worse than all of those other World Cup knockout losses that came before. I think it is because this was THE World Cup. This was the one when all the commentators and cricketing gurus were saying, “This Proteas team has what it takes. Watch out world”. Do you know what? I still cannot believe it. This WAS the World Cup when we were supposed to all be teary eyed while we watch our boys drown in champagne and those little green and gold paper thingies.
And, we’re back in the room. In case I haven’t mentioned it, I am not at all happy at the moment, so I might not keep you too long. Well, it will be longer than the Proteas’ 2011 Cricket World Cup campaign. What went wrong? That’s the question that once again flies around, dominating pub conversations. I think the problem is that nothing went wrong. The only little hiccup along the way was the frustrating loss to England in the group stages. Other than that, the Proteas seemed to have all their bases covered. As Herschelle Gibbs said after the quarter-final loss, our boys had everything covered, except BMT. My girlfriend, Debby says that we’re all silly to keep on debating and discussing possible reasons for South Africa’s poor performances in World Cups, and especially their most recent loss. She says it’s nothing more than the fact that, unless it’s a tie of course, one team must win every match, and one team must lose – simple as that. Maybe Debby is onto something.
One thing that irritates me is the popular perception that the Proteas did not win the World Cup purely because Mark Boucher was not there. That really irritates me. It’s as if Bouch has won every World Cup in which he’s played. I’m also a big Boucher fan, but let’s not get lost in a little fantasy world here. What happened during all those other World Cups when he was there? There was absolutely nothing wrong with the team that lost to New Zealand that night. Yes, the selectors might have gone for the extra batsman, for instance, but come on, that still does not justify the loss of eight wickets for just 64 runs against a very average bowling attack. Yes, they say, but Boucher has BMT – he would have rescued the innings towards the end. Ok, love. Hashim Amla, Graeme Smith, AB De Villiers, Jacques Kallis, JP Duminy, Faf Du Plessis and Johan Botha should all have ‘rescued the innings towards the end’. Dammit, if they had each just scored their respective ODI batting averages, they would have danced through to the semi-final. It is a pity that cricket is not played on paper.
One thing that did strike me before the match is what New Zealand bowling coach, Allan Donald (I know, it hurts) said in the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM during the week. Donald said his team (ouch) is excited about playing against South Africa, and that of all the teams left in the competition, the Proteas would have been their first choice anyway. Whether that was some pre-match confidence banter or not, I do not know, but it worked. And I must admit, when he said that, I became a little unsettled. It is exactly that kind of attitude that wins World Cups. The problem for the Proteas, possibly, is that they thought the same thing about the Black Caps.
Another thing that irritates me (aren’t I just a bundle of fun today?) are those immediate post-match press conferences. That seems a little bit strange coming from a member of the media, but hear me out. What do you want a losing (or winning) captain to say 10 minutes after the match, that has not been said before? I spoke about this issue briefly when I discussed our Bok coach, Peter de Villiers a few months ago. For instance, one of the journos asked Smith, “What went wrong today?” Um, sorry sir, did you only just arrive at the match venue? What the hell do you expect Smith to say? Until I’ve had a proper conversation with each and every player in my team, nothing other than the loss of 8 wickets for 64 runs is what went wrong today, you stupid fool. And then the pointless questions continued, with Smith eventually saying that he has no idea what else to say. It was as if they had a big cake with the ‘c’ word inside it, and they were trying to coerce Smith to take a bit of the cake. I have just read that, and I have no idea where it came from. I’m going to leave it there. As in, much like a tortured Iraqi prisoner at Abu Ghraib, “You tell me what you want me to say, and I’ll say it so you can scribble it into your little notebook and write a nice, juicy story about why the Proteas lost another World Cup knockout match”. One of the ‘journalists’ (quotation marks intended) ostensibly tried to pose a question, but it seemed more like an insult or a direct verbal attack, as he played around with ‘choker’ and ‘joker’. Sorry sir, this is a press conference for big people. The kiddies’ playroom is just down the hall.
Yes, and that ‘c’ word, it’s old now. It has become the result, as well as the perfect evidence of, the self-fulfilling prophecy. Our ‘best friends in rugby’ the All Blacks are also victims of it. Language is a very, very powerful thing. So if you’re going to keep on using that silly little ‘c’ word, use it constructively and throw it at the All Blacks! I know, I know, we have a Rugby World Cup in September, but we’re talking about cricket now. The more you use the ‘c’ word, I start thinking of another delightful ‘c’ word to throw at you. So shut up, because you’re not making it any better, and the mindless echo of a concept you probably know very little about, really is not impressive.
I am not at all defending Smith in my ‘post-match press conference’ rant, but rather exploring the legitimacy of it. Smith is (was) the captain and it is his duty to face the media. I fully understand that news needs to be written and submitted immediately after the match, but the ability of a captain to fully comprehend the intricate details of a win or loss so soon afterwards is, I’m afraid, impossible. While we’re on Smith, there is no excuse for the fact that he did not arrive back in South Africa with his teammates, but rather flew straight to Ireland ‘to sort out some personal issues’. I wonder if he would have travelled straight to Ireland if the Proteas had won the World Cup. That is not good enough, Biff. Especially considering this was your last stint as ODI skipper. I cannot understand why he wasn’t forced to return home and accompany his ‘crew’ in facing the music. He could have travelled to Ireland from here. Poor show, Smith. Poor, poor show.
Amid all of this doom and gloom, there is some excitement ahead in that the Proteas will have a new coach and ODI captain very soon. I do think Corrie van Zyl did a magnificent job in such a short time though. There’s a ‘c’ word you can use. In fact there are two you can talk about over the next few weeks: captain and coach.
The Proteas’ next assignment is a series against Australia in October. Let’s leave that ‘c’ word alone and support the boys as they look to teach the Aussies a thing or two about cricket. After all, we have a World Cup in four years time and the preparation starts here. One of my good friends, Greig summed it all up quite beautifully in a ‘tweet’ shortly after the quarter-final loss. He said, “Our loveless and abusive marriage is taking strain. I’ll forgive you in the morning, Proteas. But tonight, you’re sleeping on the couch in the garage.” He also said what upset him most was not getting to see AB ride the umpire like a horse. I think I agree.
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