Crazy, Chaotic Clamour of Competing Consumers

As published in my column, 'The Blog Roll' in the January 2011 edition of SPORTElizabeth.

Photo courtesy of The Herald.

I’m really not a fan of this time of the year. In my opinion it is a crazy time when people spend money they don’t have, celebrating an occasion some of them don’t even subscribe to, let alone fully understand, while swopping gifts that, in most cases, inevitably become dust collectors. I cannot doubt the fact that it is a fantastic time for children – well, at least those not only fortunate enough to have parents and/or families, but those who have families who can afford to spend a little. I can remember Christmas as a kid. In fact, while I was digging through some old shoe boxes looking for the photo that you should see on this page, I found a letter I must have written when I was 6 or 7 years old. It read, “Dear Father Christmas. I would really like a fishing rod for Christmas this year. I have been very good. If you cannot find a fishing rod, then I would like a Thundercats man. His name is Tigre. Thank you and Merry Christmas, Rory.” As far as I can remember, I did get the fishing rod – much to the dismay of many a ‘rockballie’ at Beachview, who were crossing their tailfins that I’d get the action hero. Hold onto that ‘action hero’ idea. We’ll get back there in a minute. Well, depending on how quickly you read.

I must admit though, there are some aspects of this time of the year that I really do enjoy. For instance, the coming together of friends and family, the almost permanent excuse to have a drink (or ten), the ability to put one’s feet up and reflect on the year gone by, and lastly, the almost permanent excuse to have a drink (or ten). There you have it: Four good reasons why I am able to look past the crazy stampede of sheep through the shopping malls; but not without a critical snigger, it must be said!

This is a sporting tabloid, so let’s talk sport. Seeing as we’re reminiscing about the days of rock pools and Thundercats, I’ll keep the nostalgia going. When I was a young lad at primary and high school, there was hardly a cricket match at St George’s Park that my mates and I did not attend - The Benson & Hedges Day/Night series, The Nissan Shield, The Castle Lager Series – we went to them all. We were quite simply obsessed with Eastern Province and later, South African cricket. In fact, it remains by far one of my favourite pastimes. I remember quite clearly the days of Brett Schultz banging those left-armers in at the terrified opposition batsmen, with the likes of Rudi Bryson, Rod McCurdy, John Maguire and Eldine Baptiste providing ample support. Those days I used to dream of being in the company of sportsmen of such stature. I did get it right now and then – albeit for mere seconds at a time.

As such, I am the kid standing on the extreme right in the photo on this page. Yes, the one wearing the sleeveless shirt showing those massive biceps. The blond mop diagonally to my right is my younger brother, Gary. Look at the expression on my face. Absolute awe. I was probably thinking, “Wow. Here I am about a metre away from a real life action hero! I am going to be just like that when I’m big and strong.” I can remember that day quite clearly. We used to sit together on our deck chairs – a group of about 6 or 7 boys. Kitted out with autograph booklets, hundreds of pens of all different colours, miniature bats and enough cool drink on us should a batsman reach a milestone and ‘require’ a refreshment. Do you remember those days? The mere thought of it seems bizarre, and if I didn’t have this photo, I would’ve doubted my own memory of it. Can you imagine even getting as far as the actual pitch during a match these days, let alone getting there and the batsman actually accepting a drink from a stranger? It seems too crazy to even contemplate.

Just the other day, I was once again surrounded by action heroes. I was extremely fortunate enough to have attended the SPORT Elizabeth Homegrown Hero Awards at the Radisson Hotel on Thursday 9 December. What an absolutely superb evening. I can remember sitting down at the table, and for a few seconds, the image of a young (and unbelievably cute) Rory standing opposite Martin Venter in absolute awe entered my mind. I had pretty much that same feeling of amazement as my eyes scanned the room for the twelve SPORT Elizabeth Homegrown Heroes. I paused for a few minutes to take it all in. I almost wanted to pop over to each one of the Homegrown Heroes and offer him/her slurp of my drink as a token of congratulations. The good news is that I snapped out of it, and didn’t proceed to do that. But, what did linger was the excitement I felt of having actually been able to attend an event like that. The young and very cute Rory (nothing’s changed some eight years later, give or take?) you see on this page would probably have given those biceps to have even been allowed to look through the window at such an event. The appreciation was most definitely not lost on me.

The funny thing is that the SPORT Elizabeth Homegrown Heroes Awards Dinner was certainly not the first event of its kind I have attended since joining Neil at the Algoa FM sports desk over two years ago. But, for some reason, it was the first time that I ‘went back’ to that 12-year-old Rory offering Martin Venter some refreshment, and actually appreciated it from that perspective. My assumption is that in the midst of the hustle and bustle during the year, I don’t allow myself that space to stop and reflect. There is always something else on my mind as I plan my next task, while stressing about the one that is to follow that one, and so forth. And, ladies and gentlemen, it is for that reason that I am able to ignore the crazy clamour of countless, competing consumers, while the time of year that, I feel, is best treated as a time for rest and reflection, is commodified.

Have a top festive season. Be safe. Play nicely. We’ll chat again in 2011, a year in which we’ll have both a cricket and rugby World Cup to look forward to. Bring it.

Stimulating Springboks

As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the December 2010 edition of SPORTElizabeth

Springbok rugby is a mess. There, I said it. It’s an issue I’ve been avoiding and, admittedly, too proud a do-or-die Bok supporter to even admit to myself, let alone advocate in a newspaper column. I cannot help but feel that the international rugby fraternity is having a fat laugh, while week in and week out, considering the talent we have in the country, South African rugby seems to turn what really should be a plain and simple task into rocket science.

More about that a bit later. I am going to start with an issue that I have, until recently, been ambivalent on since the ‘scandal’ erupted. By the way, I absolutely detest that word, and the media’s liberal use of it. Moving on. When I first heard about the positive drug tests of rising Springbok star Bjorn Basson and Bok prop (and possible future skipper) Chiliboy Ralapelle, I immediately labelled it a storm in a teacup. In fact, I suspect that Professor Tim Noakes might be stalking me, as in the KFC Sports Cage on Algoa FM two days later, that is exactly what he called it: ‘a storm in a teacup’. Why thank you Prof, however, I would appreciate it if you would reference me when you so blatantly plagiarise my words. And stop following me – it’s getting a bit weird now.

Prof Noakes explains that the stimulant found in their bodies, methylhexaneamine, only hangs around for between 24 and 36 hours, before it surreptitiously slips into the porcelain. So, provided the athlete in question stops consuming any ‘dubious’ supplements and/or medication immediately after the first test, the B-sample should be fine. This, together with the fact that in January, methylhexaneamine is scheduled to be reclassified anyway, tells me that this really is nothing but a deluge in a coffee mug. In fact, speaking of which, the substance is really nothing more than a stimulant very similar to caffeine. Listen out for Prof Noakes’ next interview – he’ll no doubt use my ‘coffee mug’ thing.

Ok, so this is all easy enough, right? So we can laugh it off and pretend it never happened and declare the whole system a farce? Absolutely not. The stimulant first reared its energetic head last year when five Jamaican athletes tested positive for the substance, and were subsequently banned for three months. It was then traced to a supplement being distributed during the Jamaican Championships. During the 2010 Commonwealth Games in New Delhi, Nigerian sprinter Damola Osayemi was stripped of her gold medal after she tested positive for methylhexaneamine. And recently, Australian officials announced that nine Australian athletes were facing possible sanctions after testing positive for the substance. Yes, I’ll admit, it is a notoriously devious and conniving stimulant that operates under at least two pseudonyms. But, come on. Has SARU had its head in the sand all of this time? At first I came out defending SARU, blaming the notoriety of the stimulant, but then I realised that my argument was self-destructive. Surely the notoriety of the stimulant, and the list of cases mentioned above, should mean that extra caution and vigilance be practiced.

Now don’t get me wrong. I do not for one second lay any blame whatsoever on 23-year-old sensation and 2010 Currie Cup top try scorer, Basson or the 24-year-old Ralapelle for the presence of this conniving substance in their urine. In fact, if anything, I sympathise with both players. Nobody, let alone a rising rugby talent in the dawn of his international career, nor the man touted as the future Springbok captain, want their name in the same sentence as ‘doping scandal’ in the international press. That sticks. It hangs around for much longer than the stimulant itself. Wait, I like this train of thought, so I am going to give an example. Let’s imagine for a second that Basson scores a hat-trick of tries in a 2011 RWC match in New Zealand. The story in many international newspapers will very possibly read something along the lines of, “Bjorn Basson, the man who found himself embroiled in a doping scandal less than a year ago, scored a hat-trick of tries for the defending champions, the Springboks, in their 2011 RWC opening match against Wales in Wellington last night.” It sticks. The same can be said if/when Ralapelle is appointed Bok captain. It sticks.

Surely somebody at SARU is tasked with keeping a persistently accurate and well-informed eye on what goes into the bodies of the Rugby World Champions. I don’t know exactly who that person (people) is, or if it is in fact Dr Craig Roberts, but he admitted both players were recently treated for flu, but that he had never experienced any problems in the past with his flu treatment/medication. Upon hearing the news of the positive tests, Bok management had everything that was being consumed by the Boks sent for laboratory tests, as it was feared that the whole squad might be ‘contaminated’. At the time of writing, there has been no further news on the results of those tests or the possible reasons for the positive tests. That’s not the point here, anyway. In my opinion, the most important issue is not how or why the substance came to be in the bodies of those two players. Admittedly, it is vital that we find out to prevent this happening again. But for me, what this whole debacle illustrates so beautifully is the lack of professionalism in Springbok rugby at the moment. Why is it that to date this stimulant has not found its way into any other major rugby union? There simply is no excuse as far as I’m concerned.

Finally, Scotland 21 – 17 South Africa. Admittedly, a determined and passionate Scotland team played its heart out at a wet and cold Murrayfield, and the (conniving and notorious) Stuart Dickinson did the Boks no favours either, but come on. The Springboks seemed to have no cohesion. There appeared to be no real strategy, and for the most part, the ball was either thrown around frantically like a coffee mug full of methylhexaneamine, or kicked aimlessly at the opposition allowing a counterattack. Also, your team is trailing (and visibly struggling), and your Grand Slam hopes hang on the next 20 minutes of the match, and you substitute arguably the world’s best goal-kicker for the inexperienced (but admittedly brilliant) Pat Lambie. And it’s certainly not the first time Bok management has made questionable substitutions at crucial moments. But we’ll save that issue for a different day.

When the Boks beat a lacklustre Ireland team at Aviva Stadium in the opening match, I was not overly convinced. When the Boks clawed back to beat Wales at the Millennium Stadium a week later, I was not convinced. And finally, when the Boks disposed of their Grand Slam hopes at Murrayfield on 20 November, I was livid. And, once again, call me crazy, but I am not blaming the players. There is something wrong. And there certainly is no shortage of rugby talent in South Africa. For this reason, and the others discussed above, I feel at the moment, Springbok rugby is a mess. And, you know what, it really should not be.

PS: I do not really suspect Prof Noakes of stalking me, however, I wish he’d stalk the Springboks and secretly plant his wisdom on player fatigue in places they’re bound to find it.

EP Rugby on the Rise

As published in SPORTElizabeth in November 2010

It was sometime in 2001, I think. It was around 9pm on a night in December or January. All I can remember without doubt is that it was absolutely bitterly, freezing cold and it was drizzling, and the queue seemed to be going nowhere. In fact, if I can remember correctly, it was more like a queueueueueue. And we were nowhere near the front. This was Camden Palace in London on a Friday night, and we were anxious to get inside. It was a nightclub we had heard more than enough about to warrant a weekend trip from Exeter, Devon to London to squeak some serious tekkie. We were cold, we were starting to sober up (we had spent a large part of the afternoon fixing the world’s finances in a nearby pub), and we were starting to wonder if it was all going to be worth the wait. Until I spotted something hilarious ahead of us in the queueueue (it had become slightly shorter). I quietly nudged my two mates, JP and Conrad, who were also both from Port Elizabeth, and pointed ahead. They both immediately burst out laughing.

Really? So you find yourself 1000s of kilometres from home in one of THE capital cities of the world, and you’re about to enter one of the best clubs in this city, and you decide to wear an Eastern Province (not so) Mighty Elephants Rugby jersey. You have absolutely no shame. Either that, or you lost a bet. Surely. This is a true story, by the way. There was a girl waiting in the queue wearing what looked like her dad’s EP Rugby jersey. You need to understand that there was a time when the EP Rugby jersey was worn only by the players, and perhaps their immediate families; behind closed doors and with all curtains and/or blinds firmly shut. It wasn’t something that most people wanted to be seen wearing. You may want to argue here, but let’s be honest, it’s true.

To put things into perspective, in 2001 the Mighty Elephants finished fifth in the Vodacom Cup, and were then thumped 27 – 40 by the Griffons in the Vodacom Shield final, which, in my opinion, was really a tournament designed to throw paw-paws at the Vodacom Cup losers; hence the ‘shield’. It also gave the 250-odd fans of the losing teams something to shout about, while the real teams did battle in the Vodacom Cup play-offs. While I’m talking about it, I must just mention that the Mighty Elephants did win the Vodacom Shield in 2002 when they beat Natal 26 – 20 in Durban. Due to a lack of paw-paws one suspects, the Vodacom Shield was laid to rest in 2004.

What am I muttering about again? Oh yes, Eastern Province Rugby. As I write this, it is Friday 22 October 2010 and the ABSA Currie Cup First Division Champions, the Eastern Province Kings will do battle with the Pumas in Witbank in exactly 6 hours time. I’m sorry to waste your time here (which you have a lot more of, thanks to the cremation of the Vodacom Shield), but I’d like to write that sentence again. As I write this, it is Friday 22 October 2010 and the ABSA Currie Cup First Division Champions, the Eastern Province Kings will do battle with the Pumas in Witbank in exactly 6 hours time. Ok, I must be honest – I copied and pasted it. But still, it gave me goosebumps nevertheless. Over the following two Fridays, the EP Kings will have the opportunity to gain promotion to the ABSA Currie Cup, but it’s no secret that it is going to take a monumental effort to trounce the boys who beat both the Lions and the Bulls during the 2010 season. But, in my opinion, if a team wins the trophy in its division, it deserves automatic promotion. But I am not going to waste your and my time moaning about that. I deliberately chose to write this column before tonight’s match in Witbank, because as far as I’m concerned, win or lose tonight, or next Friday night at the NMB Stadium for that matter, our boys have brought us a trophy. And that is what I am writing about.

During my errands around town today I spotted no less than five people wearing the beautiful red and white stripes of the EP Kings jersey. Did I laugh and nudge the nearest person to have a giggle? Absolutely not. On the contrary, I smiled approvingly and gave a polite nod. Right before our eyes here in Port Elizabeth and the Eastern Cape in general, there has been a complete turnaround at Eastern Province Rugby. And I’m not just talking about the standard of the rugby (which has improved in ways that cannot even be described), but more the attitude of the public towards EP rugby. Now I sit here not knowing which one I need to emphasise, so I’ll pose the question. Has the standard of EP rugby improved so dramatically because the supporters have changed their attitudes, come out to support them in their droves at the NMB Stadium and maybe even swopped those silly Sharks stickers for new and shiny EP Kings mementos, OR have the supporters burned their Sharks stickers and turned out in their thousands week in and week out because the standard of EP rugby has improved to such a great extent? I am going to attempt to answer my own question.
Working on the sports desk at Algoa FM obviously (I hate using that word, but this time it is appropriate) gives me insight into the ‘behind-the-scenes’ in South African sporting circles. So, instead of referring to EP Rugby as a collective and anonymous entity, I’d like rather to refer to specific people who, as far as I’m aware, have personally worked tirelessly in taking our EP Kings to the podium in George on Friday 15 October 2010. Just for kicks: SWD Eagles 12 – 16 EP Kings. But you knew that.

From my dealings, conversations and interviews with various people involved in and around EP Rugby, I can mention a few people whom I feel you need to know about when you next very proudly put on your EP Kings jersey. I’m pretty darn certain that the list is a helluva lot longer than what I am about to put down, but nevertheless, here goes: Alan Solomons, Corne Korff, Cheeky Watson, Anele Pamba, Debbie Ellis, Martin Nefdt, EP Kings fans (yes, you), Mzwandile Stick, De We Barry and every single member of the EP Kings squad and training team. And then of course, let’s not dismiss the role the local media have played in taking our boys not only to the top of their division, but more importantly, back into the hearts of local rugby fans. Because let’s face it, it’s been far, far, far more than just an improvement on the field – it has been an entire shift (metamorphosis) in attitude and perception. And that, I believe, is a great deal more significant.
On the 12th of October, it was announced that 21 young rugby stars from across the Eastern Cape had signed up to join the newly formed EP Rugby Academy, which will be managed by former Springbok prop, Robbie Kempson. It goes without saying that this can only lead to much greater things. EP Rugby is on the rise. This is just the beginning.

PS: Before I go, I need to tell you that last night I dreamt that EP Kings beat the Pumas 43 – 22 in Witbank. True story. Let’s see what happens.