Season of sporty fanaticism
Let us do something that is rarely been done in this column - let us write about sport.
We are not talking about backstabbing politics, which makes Mike Tyson’s ear biting incident seems like child’s play, but the code of sport that is gutted out on the sweat-layered battlefields of grass or whatever suitable surface.
This is after all the season when all sport lovers tend to forget about work, relationships, plants and pets.
It is the time for the Currie Cup, the Rugby Championships (formerly known as the Tri-Nations), and of course, soccer explodes on the screen with megastars like Lionel Messi leaving us wondering: “Why didn’t we just stick to playing soccer, or even golf?”
The “salary” that some of these sporting icons earn could feed entire African countries, but I’m sure this doesn’t cross their minds as they indulge in their luxury lifestyle.
And who would have thought that the Currie Cup would be played so late in the year? It is August for goodness sake.
Soon we will end up playing the final on Christmas! Then we can have the entire field drizzled in cheap Christmas decorations, serving eggnog instead of beer and turkey as an alternative to hotdogs. A novel idea I would imagine.
Indeed, this crazy season of rugby and soccer, resembling similar fanaticism showed towards sport across the globe, evokes a myriad of emotions.
During these sporting battles when the gladiators fight for supremacy, friends and family members endure their own emotional, and maybe even physical, skirmishes as loyalty and devotion is passionately defended.
What remains perplexing, however, is how clubs and teams can still evoke such loyalty from their fans. After all, this is the era where money rules, so players and thus loyalty comes at the highest price.
Sadly, the professional sport era has killed a lot of the die-hard commitment that players showed during the amateur days, when they played not for the big pay day, but for honour and pride.
Now, you will find a player who will game after game place his trembling hand for example on the Liverpool badge, singing with a tear in his eye that he and the supporters will never walk alone, but come next season, he will be walking, definitely not alone, with teammates from another club.
Gone are the deep-seated honour and devotion – the allure of exorbitant fees have gobbled up true pride.
Once again there is no Falcons (Valke) in the premier Currie Cup to give the East Rand something to shout for, doomed to slog it out in the first division.
But there was a time – and this is not fantasy – when the Falcons, at least for one season, ran with the big dogs.
Cast your minds back to 2001 when the Falcons was packed with talent, boasting a back-line featuring the late Ettienne Botha, Adrian Jacobs and the thrilling kicking machine Dawie du Toit. Upfront there was the likes of captain James Dalton (many have forgotten he once donned for a brief while this red shirt).
It was a great season when the Falcons made the Super 8 and even had a shot at the semi-finals.
Who can forget the game against Western Province in Kempton Park, on September 29, when the Falcons played, by all account, a fully-fledged Springbok side, featuring the likes of Breyton Paulse, Chester Williams, Pieter Russouw and Bobby Skinstad.
It was a mighty WP team that won the Currie Cup that year against the Sharks.
But on that sunny September day, the Falcons soared in front of a capacity crowd at the Barnard Stadium. They may have lost 35-26, but it was a magical moment when this lowly East Rand squad like a David almost slew Goliath.
The loss against WP was a blow for the Falcons regarding their Currie Cup aspirations, and subsequently, lost their way against the Blue Bulls and never made it to the semi-finals.
Who knows what would have happened to the Falcons if they had conquered the mighty WP. Alas, as the season died out, the exodus began at the Falcons, with the bigger unions grabbing the talented players like vultures swooping on a corpse.
Peter de Villiers, our “beloved” former Springbok leader, coached the Falcons during 2002 and 2003, but by then the glory days of 2001 was long gone.
And so, if we reflect on decades of sporting highs and lows, we are reminded there is an endearing magical quality to sport – we saw this during the 2010 Soccer World Cup.
As the winter finally begins to drag itself back to its cold cave, fans will be eager once again to drink from this magical cup, as Chiefs and Pirates fans dance and sing and blow their Vuvuzelas, hoping for the PSL Holy Grail to be claimed.
In England, Manchester United will in all too familiar fashion bulge its muscles, in Germany Bayern Munich will attempt to remain an unstoppable force, while in Spain flowing Barcelona will hope to regain its former mojo.
On the rugby front, the Blue Bulls will want to wrestle the cup away from WP, and the Springboks will be facing the absolutely daunting task to stop a mighty All Black side.
The Springboks did in 1995, when James Small miraculously clung for dear life to Jonah Lumo while Joel Stransky kicked the Rainbow Nation to glorious triumph.
It is going to be a long season of cheers and jeers, of bar fights, of angry friendships, of swearing, cursing, tears and occasionally, the thumbs up.
What a lovely time indeed, when all spectators become referees and coaches, firing and applauding from our arm chair, but at least, if will make us forget the rising fuel price.
