An Unquestioned Obsession

As published in my column, 'The Blog Roll' in the September 2010 edition of Sport Elizabeth.

I shall never, ever forget that moment. Siphiwe Tshabalala. Need I say more? In fact, there is a radio commercial which sums up quite perfectly the moment Jabulani hit the back of the net at then Soccer City on 11 June 2010, by describing it as ‘the left foot that kick-started the heart of a nation’. It’s become our 9/11, if you like. No, that came out all wrong. What I am trying to say is that as much as almost everyone can clearly remember where they were or what they were doing the moment they heard the news that two aeroplanes had crashed into the Twin Towers in New York, I bet almost every South African will always remember where they were the second Tshabalala’s left foot set in motion that wave of euphoria that swept across our country. I was in the Algoa FM studio with Wayne and Lauren, and I can remember having to look again, because I could not believe what had happened. If you were on the road (because that is the only excuse for not watching it) and tuned into Algoa FM, I’m sure you would have heard our screams; and yes, that high pitched squeak was my feeble attempt at the vuvuzela (def. A trumpet shaped horn which produces a loud sound and is blown by fans at soccer matches in South Africa).

Tshabalala plays for Kaizer Chiefs in the Premier Soccer League. A large number of soccer fans in South Africa don’t even know that. But these people will tell you with such passion and fervour exactly where every player in the England squad plays in the English Premier League. After all, the English Premiership is seen by some as the biggest and best soccer league in the world. Is it really? Or is it just the most televised soccer league in the world, thereby making it (by default) ‘the best soccer league in the world’? But the power of language and the reasons for certain things being seen as ‘bigger’ or ‘better’ than others is a debate for another day.

I’ll never forget what Chelsea’s former Brazilian manager, Luiz Felipe Scolari said to British journalists quizzing him about the ‘pressure’ ahead of his team’s final Champions League group match in December 2008. Scolari said, “You know how many people live in Brazil? 180 million and I was coach there. You think here is pressure? Here the pressure is zero. Pressure was being coach of Brazil because all the people in Brazil are coaches.” Immaculately put. In one short response to a simple question, Scolari pretty much completely debunked the ostensible ‘enormity’ of what lay ahead as coach of an English club, and what made his dismantling of a ‘truth’, that until then was sacrosanct, so effective was the fact that he made a comparison. And, what made his comparison so effective is that firstly, it was probably true, and secondly, I don’t think too many people in the room knew very much about the level of stress that goes with coaching football in Brazil, let alone enough to even question the validity of Scolari’s response. Result.

It is the time of the year again when I become irritated with some people in South Africa. And this year, it is probably worse. Just over two months ago, we were all shouting, jumping, screaming, crying, singing for a team that was South African. All of a sudden, my Facebook home page is littered with how ‘WE are going to beat Chelsea’ or how ‘WE are going to beat Man United’..blah blah, bloody blah. Please somebody explain to me who is this ‘we’? And how on earth did somebody who most likely has never even been to the city that the particular team comes from, nor the city the team is playing in on a particular day, become apparently so very closely associated with it?

I had to laugh recently when one of my friends was bragging on Facebook how he had just acquired the home strip for a particular English Premiership team. It cost him around R700. I laughed, but I was irritated. I am willing to bet anything that the particular person doesn’t own (nor have any interest in) a PSL shirt. Why is this? And I really do want to know. What is it about the English Premiership that makes people in South Africa who have absolutely no connection whatsoever to the place ‘their’ team comes, from pretend as if every match is a matter of life and death? I have quizzed a few fanatical South African supporters of some of the English teams about their allegiance to ‘their’ respective teams, to which the response was usually a case of ‘loving’ Sir Alex Ferguson or John Terry, for example. I can understand that, to an extent. But what happens when these people leave the respective teams? Then you’re faced with a badge once again, as you find other reasons to justify your passion for a team so far away.

I am probably offending a large number of people here, but as much as I absolutely love pretty much all sports, I think the (unquestioned) obsession with the English Premiership is silly. I was hoping it would subside somewhat after ‘that left boot that kick-started the heart of nation’, but it hasn’t. The pubs are still filled with conversations of how Manchester City has once again overspent, or how ‘we’ really need to hold on to Torres. I haven’t heard anyone speaking about how Kaizer Chiefs has refused to release two of its Bafana Bafana stars, goalkeeper Itumeleng Khune or Tshabalala. Something which, especially after the World Cup, should be far more pertinent in our country than what Manchester City is reportedly doing.

I am not at all saying that the English Premiership should be ignored. Absolutely not. It does after all showcase some of the best footballers – not necessarily football, contrary to popular belief – the world has ever seen, and as a sports fan, that on its own is reason enough to closely monitor the matches. But I’d like to challenge every passionate supporter of an English team, who has not yet done so, to pick a PSL team, buy the shirt, and actively support it. After all, these are the guys you’ll be screaming for in four years time, should Bafana qualify for the World Cup in Brazil. A Kaizer Chiefs shirt is on my shopping list. I am South African and I ‘love’ Tshabalala.

The Bok Coach and the Media

As published in my column, 'The Blog Roll' in the August edition of Sport Elizabeth.

“Rory! My man! How are you?” The phone had been passed to Peter de Villiers by his media manager, Rayaan Adriaanse. I had never before spoken to the Springbok coach, so I had no idea what to expect when I introduced myself. I needed to interview him in order to obtain a few sound bites for my afternoon sport reports on Algoa FM. The conversation continued with me apologising to de Villiers for bothering him so soon after a media briefing, to which he jovially replied, “It is a pleasure to chat to you, Rory. Please, take your time. I am your servant.”

What an absolute pleasure. De Villiers was in East London for the official announcement of the South Africa vs. Italy test match, which was subsequently held at the Buffalo City Stadium on 26 June 2010. The Boks thumped the Azzurri 55 – 11. After speaking to PDV for about 5 minutes or so, I could only like him. He comes across as a genuinely jovial and pleasant person. In fact, I cannot think of another coach in world rugby who I’d rather have at a braai, than ol’ Div himself.
I have been somewhat angered of late. No, let’s start that again. I have been infuriated lately with the abhorrent manner in which the media have handled our very own Springbok coach, Peter de Villiers. And, probably even more disappointed at the way the public has allowed itself to be so easily swayed by what I can only refer to as intentionally irresponsible and inexcusable ‘journalism’. I’ll come back to that in a minute.

Let’s begin with former Wallaby hooker, Brendan Cannon’s recent comments on Australian TV network, Fox Sports. I quote, “I can't believe that senior players like John Smit and Victor Matfield allow themselves to be controlled by this guy. He is a clown. He surely does not coach the team.” Firstly, what gives Cannon the right to refer to our national rugby coach as ‘this guy’? Brendan, ‘this guy’ happens to coach the team that won the Vodacom Trinations last year. ‘This guy’ also coached his team to a historic triumph over the British and Irish Lions in 2009. ‘This guy’ also has a Dunedin test victory under his belt. Lastly, although he was not there at the time, ‘this clown’ is the coach of the team that is currently in possession of the William Webb Ellis Trophy. Do you still remember that piece of silverware, Brendan? I do not agree in allowing myself to become bogged down in conversations with vacuous people who engage in polemics, so I’ll stop there. From what I’ve learned, I understand that pretty much their entire show was dedicated to insulting de Villiers. That is cowardly, inexcusable behaviour, and a simple public apology (while no doubt sniggering under your breath) is certainly not sufficient in my books. The damage is done – they have destroyed PDV’s credibility in Australia and the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all up for a bit of pre-test match banter to spice up those rucks and mauls, but as far as I know, public defamation is a crime, and it should be dealt with as such.

Ok, let’s get back to those ‘journalists’ and their ‘interpretations’.
Remember when that journalist asked Jake White in 2004 about which of the Ireland players would make the Springbok team? And Jake White said, "None.” What else was he supposed to say? How would the relevant Springbok player(s) have felt if White named a few Irish players who would make his team? Come now, let’s not be silly.

Remember how the media intentionally misinterpreted that? All of a sudden, White had ostensibly said that no Irish player was good enough...blah blah blah.

On the same note, there is absolutely no connection whatsoever between, "Maybe it was the right thing for them (the All Blacks) to win,” and, "There is an international conspiracy underway here involving referees, rugby unions and sponsors." I mean, really now. When I read the initial report, I said exactly what PDV subsequently said about the hype in New Zealand ahead of the 2011 Rugby World Cup. I immediately thought, "Please tell me nobody is going to fall for the tricks of malicious and irresponsible ‘journalism – AGAIN."

The ‘journalists’ were cunning in their ‘misinterpretation’ this time. They could have opted for one of two routes: Firstly, that PDV is a terrible coach in that he says it’s a good thing for his team to lose. Or they could have chosen the far more elaborate route; let’s call it the Garden Route. They opted for the latter. Sadly, people fell for it.

Peter de Villiers actually speaks. He very seldom uses meaningless metaphors about drawing boards (how many coaches even understand that metaphor?), momentum, homework etc. The reason ol’ Div has ruffled so many feathers in the rugby fraternity is because he does not speak from the ‘script’. He does not subscribe to the ‘rules’ that govern every other coach in world rugby, preventing them from ever saying anything original or remotely creative. Whether this refusal is inadvertent or calculated, I cannot say.

You could take almost any one of Graham Henry's (for example) post match speeches, insert a different opposition name, and play it after every match his team plays. Have one recorded for a loss, and one for a win. It's the same rubbish over and over again. But, well done Graham, you obviously received the memo and you speak so beautifully from that script.

Whether or not de Villiers is a good rugby coach is not the issue here. Rugby fans will always have their opinions on that, which is good. But, regardless of his abilities as a coach, I think (intentionally) irresponsible and malicious journalism is disgusting; it needs to be exposed. I firmly believed PDV when he promised one thing: that he would do his very best as Springbok Head Coach. He does not deserve to be internationally ridiculed.

Some might say Div is out of his depth at press conferences. Some might say the ‘depth’ is determined by those silly little discursive 'games' we all ‘play’ on a day to day basis; games which very often essentially mean nothing anyway.

At the time of writing, SARU had instructed its lawyers to investigate the inconsistent refereeing and/or citing during the Springboks’ opening two games at the 2010 Vodacom Trinations. Let’s see what transpires.

PS: I’ll still have my braai with that man. One day.
PPS: I’d like to extend my sincere thanks to whoever wrote ‘The Blog Roll’ for me last month. Just one thing though, next time work harder on your predictions. Idiot.

My 2010 SWC Predictions

As published in my column, 'The Blog Roll' in the July 2010 edition of Sport Elizabeth.

According to the FIFA website, it is officially 1 day, 4 hours and 37 minutes until the FIFA 2010 World Cup in SOUTH AFRICA. I must admit that, until very recently, I wasn’t ‘feeling it’ and much like waiting for the effects of headache tablets (or shots of tequila) to kick in, I was waiting for this feeling of euphoria that everyone was talking about. Well, I think it is finally here! The reality of the whole thing has hit home: At 4pm on Friday 11 June 2010 at Soccer City in Johannesburg, a whistle will sound that will set in motion the biggest and by far the most anticipated sporting event our continent has ever hosted – the 2010 FIFA World Cup. In fact, in terms of television audience, it is considered bigger than the Olympic Games.

Oh wait, you’re sitting there reading this and we’re halfway through the World Cup and you’re probably thinking, “What the hell is Rory on about?” Sorry – I should have explained from the outset. We recently had illusionist (or, in the nicest possible sense, freak) Larry Soffer performing in Port Elizabeth and visiting our studios at Algoa FM. His trick where he ‘predicted’ the headlines a few days before the newspapers came out, really intrigued me as I tried to understand how he had managed to do it. Well, he did. Or he made us all believe that he did. Either way, it is pretty impressive. And, I am going to do the same thing with the 2010 World Cup. I’ll probably fail miserably, but then at least I’ll know that the whole ‘pigeon out of a hat’ thing is not for me and I’ll be able to mark that one off as ‘tried and failed’. Miserably.

When I explained to Algoa FM Sports Editor, and Sport Elizabeth reporter/columnist/skivvy, Neil Bisseker what I had ‘up my sleeve’ (if you know me well enough, you’ll know that that little ‘trick’ was definitely intended), he said it was a great idea. To cut an already long story short, I am going to predict the results of firstly, all first round matches, and then just selected matches after that. And, in doing so, I’ll then obviously predict the match-ups that will follow, and so on. And, even though Neil told me to wait until the friendly matches were complete, so I would have a better idea of what’s what, I am not going to mention any previous results and/or rankings in my explanation of my predicted results. I’m going off on far too many tangents here – let’s just get started. Here goes:

11 June 2010
SA 2 – 1 Mexico. My magic ball tells me that Katlego Mphela will score the first goal of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.
Uruguay 0 – 2 France

12 June 2010
Korea Republic 0 – 2 Greece
Argentina 1 – 1 Nigeria
England 2 – 1 United States

13 June 2010
Algeria 0 – 0 Slovenia
Serbia 0 – 2 Ghana
Germany 3 – 0 Australia

14 June 2010
Netherlands 2 – 1 Denmark
Japan 1 – 3 Cameroon
Italy 2 – 0 Paraguay

15 June 2010

New Zealand 0 – 0 Slovakia
Ivory Coast 1 – 2 Portugal
Brazil 4 – 0 Korea DPR
Honduras 0 – 1 Chile
Spain 2 – 0 Switzerland

Round Two:
South Africa 1 – 0 Uruguay
France 2 – 2 Mexico

Round Three:
Mexico 3 – 1 Uruguay
France 1 – 1 South Africa

Right, at this point, France will top Group A by virtue of a better goal difference, leaving Bafana Bafana in second spot, but with a ticket to the next round. Bafana will meet the top of Group B (Argentina) at Soccer City on 27 June in the round of 16. Bafana Bafana will go down 2 – 0 to the South Americans. It will be their first loss in 16 matches.

Looking at the rest of the tournament now, I predict that the biggest let down will be defending champions Italy, who will be knocked out by Cameroon in the round of 16. The big surprise will be the United States who will eventually be sent packing by Argentina in the quarter finals; this after beating Germany in the round of 16.

The semi finals will see Brazil beat a very defiant England 1 – 0 on 6 July, and on 7 July, Spain defeating a heartbroken Argentina 2 – 0. Whether or not Argentina coach Diego Maradona will survive the match, screaming and shouting from the sidelines, I cannot say.

The FIFA 2010 World Cup Final will be an extremely hard fought match between Brazil and Spain. Damnit – there goes my magic ball. It’s gone blank. I do not believe it! Not now, please! It does this now and then. I’m on my own here, but I’ll say that the Brazilians will take it 2 – 1. Or wait, maybe it will be Spain. Um, just give me a minute. No, final answer: Brazil to win the 2010 FIFA World Cup by beating Spain by 2 goals to 1 in the final.

I hadn’t initially planned to predict all the way through until the final, but it became quite addictive so I just continued. And I do think I might just have that gift. Just a few days ago, I predicted that Rafael Nadal would claim his fifth French Open title, and he did. Ok, I did make my prediction halfway through his 3rd set against Robin Soderling in the final, with Nadal having broken the Swede’s serve. But still, anything could have happened. I’ll claim it.

It is exactly 20.36 on Wednesday 9 June 2010. This document will now be saved onto a compact disc and given to Sport Elizabeth editor Daron Mann tomorrow to keep safe. He will be instructed to wait until my deadline on 21 June, before he opens the file. The next time I’ll see these words will be the same time you do: In the July edition of Sport Elizabeth.

Tales of Tennis

As published in my column, 'The Blog Roll' in the June edition of Sport Elizabeth.

It’s the mid-year school break, it’s winter, it’s 07.30, and there is a ‘hoot’ at the gate. It’s Uncle Reuben dropping off Wesley for our next five-set extravaganza at the Victoria Park High School tennis courts in Union Road, Walmer. These days, if you hooted anywhere near my gate at 07.30 while I was supposed to be on holiday, you’d most likely befriend a brick. Not those days. In fact (and I never did tell Wesley this), I would have been awake and up since 05.30, warming up and stretching in the back garden. While wolfing down a bowl of corn flakes (post toasties) I’d watch videos (yes, as in VHS or Beta) of Wimbledon highlights to psyche myself up for the ‘very serious’ match ahead. We did this every single weekday during the June/July holidays for about three years – except when it rained. Then it was devastating for us; sort of like a death in the family.

There were no half measures when it came to our do-or-die tennis matches. We’d take it in turns to buy brand new balls once a week. There really was nothing better than that loud ‘crack’ of the brand new tennis ball tin opening and the strong, sweet smell that bounced out. We even did the whole nylon tracksuit thing; remember those? Mine matched my tennis shoes and my sweatband – Donnay if I remember correctly. We were pros. We must have been, as we made the Wimbledon Men’s Final every June/July weekday for about 3 years. We even broke strings now and then. And it all worked out perfectly because we’d be finished our umpteenth ‘Wimbledon Men’s Final’ by around noon every day when we’d walk back to my place around the corner, share a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, six eggs, a packet of tomatoes, and plonk our sweaty selves down in front of the television just in time to watch the day’s play at Wimbledon. And then, at about 17.30 Uncle Reuben would hoot at the gate again, and Wesley would go home. Well, admittedly, only for 14 hours.

Where have all the ‘professional’ tennis players gone? And I do not accept ‘Nintendo Wii’ as an answer! Driving past those tennis courts in Union Road these days is depressing. There are only four of them left and there is never anybody using them during the holidays. Now I don’t know if the courts are inaccessible to the public, but even so, surely pupils from the school are able to use them. In the early 90s if we didn’t arrive at those courts by 8 o’clock, we would most likely have to wait – all six of them would already have been taken.

Watching tennis back then was different for me because I was ‘familiar’ with all the tennis players: Stefan Edberg, Pete Sampras, Goran Ivanišević, Ivan Lendl, Andre Agassi, Jim Courier (although I never liked him much for some reason), Steffi Graf, Monica Seles, Jennifer Capriati, and probably my favourite, the Argentine Gabriela Sabatini. Depending on my mood on any particular day at the courts with Wesley, I’d ‘be’ one of them and do my best to mimic their style and on-court antics. I think in hindsight the only reason I developed a double-handed backhand is because Agassi used to do it so effectively. It worked for me too. At least I think it did, and even if it didn’t, I would have convinced myself that it did. All those tennis players lived in my head and we were friends. I even had dreams of going to the Nick Bollettieri Tennis Academy in Florida.

In fact, while I’m on the players, I think the most exhilarating match I have ever seen (to this day) will still be the 1992 Wimbledon Men’s Final between Agassi and Ivanišević. Much like the Rugby World Cup Final three years later, when the big question was how the Springboks were going to handle Jonah Lomu, the question here was how Agassi was going to cope with the 1.93m Croatian superstar who had so far demolished everyone in his path with his almost unplayable serve. The build-up was massive: Both players were attempting their first Grand Slam title, and Ivanišević, with almost 200 tournament aces going into the final, was by far the favourite. Agassi eventually prevailed, 6-7, 6-4, 6-4, 1-6, 6-4. Ivanišević served 39 aces in the match, while Agassi only managed 37 throughout the whole tournament. I reckon it was Agassi’s lethal cross court double-handed backhand that did it. I convinced myself of it. After two more failed attempts at the final, Ivanišević had his day nine years later in 2001 when he defeated Australian Patrick Rafter in another five-set thriller. The Croat took the final set 9-7.

Now I know what you’re probably thinking: The epic 2009 Wimbledon Men’s Final when Roger Federer beat long time rival, Andy Roddick, by taking the fifth set 16-14, was far more exciting than the 1992 Men’s Final. Well, it probably was, but what made the 1992 final far bigger for me is that I ‘knew’ those players. I shouted at the television all the way through.

At the time of writing, the 2010 French Open at Roland Garros had just got underway. The time of year I used to love and live for, I now secretly dread. Why? Simple: aeiou. Yes, those are the five vowels. I’ve placed them there so I can have a good look at them. Over the next few weeks as I sweat my way through my afternoon tennis updates at Algoa FM, vowels will be a rare luxury; like water in the Eastern Cape. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I was going with this elaborate tale of tennis balls, parachute jackets, fried eggs and sweatbands. Trvsjytsxostrjykova – sorry, just practising.