Race wounds still raw in South African cricket

“Those injustices were done to us as blacks. I doubt that any white player out there has ever been called a monkey.” – Geoff Toyana

TELFORD VICE | Cape Town

A statement on Tuesday in support of Lungi Ngidi’s stance on the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement has thrown into stark relief the gaping racial divisions in South African cricket. The release lists 31 former players and five current coaches as signatories. Not one of them is white. Neither have any white current or former national players volunteered their backing for Ngidi.

The document, which former Titans player and Lions coach Geoff Toyana told Cricbuzz was the work of “a collective”, seeks to “invite our fellow white cricketers to join in this move to defend human dignity”. Had any whites been approached to back the initiative? “No, but that’s a very good question,” Toyana said. “Those injustices were done to us as blacks. I doubt that any white player out there has ever been called a monkey.”

The atmosphere around the game has been racially charged in the wake of Ngidi being asked, during an online press conference last Monday, whether South Africa’s current players were talking about supporting BLM. “That’s definitely something that we will discuss once we are together in person,” he said. “We have spoken about it and everyone is well aware of what’s going on. It’s a difficult one because we are not together, so it’s hard to discuss. But once we get back to playing that is definitely something we have to address as a team.

“As a nation as well, we have a past that is very difficult because of racial discrimination. So it’s definitely something we will be addressing as a team and if we are not, it’s something I will bring up. It’s something that we need to take very seriously and, like the rest of the world is doing, make a stand.”

That earned Ngidi disapproval from former white players, who with no apparent evidence took his view to mean he was telling his peers what to do. “What nonsense is this,” Pat Symcox posted on social media. “[Ngidi] must take his own stand if he wishes. Stop trying to get the Proteas involved in his belief.”

In perhaps the only note of notable white support for Ngidi, Vince van der Bijl, a former fast bowler, disagreed: “BLM does not say other lives don’t matter … Respect is allowing others to have their opinions. You are allowed yours. We do not have the space to state all the things that we talk about. And agree on. Saying one thing does not exclude other beliefs. We ache for so many things in this country. Hopefully we can help the healing as opposed to widen the divides.”

Tuesday’s statement said: “We note … that the most outspoken criticism directed at Ngidi has come via former players such as Pat Symcox, Boeta Dippenaar, Rudi Steyn, Brian McMillan and others, and we urge that their views be challenged. We are not surprised at their comments.

“Given South Africa’s well-known past, black cricketers have borne the brunt of subtle and overt racist behaviour for many years, including from some colleagues. Consequently, there is a need to understand how white privilege feeds into the perpetuation of these old attitudes and assumptions. 

“Our attitude, mistakenly, we now believe, has always been to say: ‘These are teething problems, and that these will be resolved if we are patient’. But after almost three decades of cricket unity, the views expressed from one side of the racial divide are still very much part of our lives, and we now believe: ‘Teething problems cannot be allowed to continue for this long’ …

“We represent, or have represented, South Africa on merit. Far too many white South Africans cannot accept that black cricketers have proved, time without end, that they are good enough to play at the highest level.”

South Africa’s 2019 rugby World Cup triumph, achieved with a squad captained by the black Siya Kolisi and that included 11 black or brown players — six of whom started the final — was proof that diversity bred strength, the statement said. 

“We want to remind South Africans that, as recently as 2017, we were told that a South African sister sport, rugby, was ‘dead’ — killed by ‘transformation’. But guess what? South African rugby won a World Cup last year. We cannot recall anyone suggesting that the victory was due to transformation. Why is transformation always rammed down the throats of national teams when they lose, but never when they win?

“… We are determined that future generations should not have to experience the pain we have had to endure, and that no South African cricketer should be discriminated against in the future. Racism is a global problem and, as the great Michael Holding explained, we can no longer just keep on laughing, grimacing and moving on.”

Former Test fast bowler Holding, now a television commentator, made an impassioned plea for racial justice last week during coverage of the first Test between England and West Indies in Southampton.

Racial unity in South African cricket was proclaimed in 1991, but the game continues to struggle to properly represent the country’s black and brown people — who make up more than 90% of the population — on the field. Of the country’s 345 men’s Test players, 316 — more than 90% — have been white. 

Makhaya Ntini, the only one among South Africa’s nine black Test players to earn 50 or more caps, was among the signatories of Tuesday’s release. The brown Hashim Amla, who played 124 Tests, was not. Neither was the brown Russell Domingo, the first South Africa head coach who is not white.

Such colour coding is grim. Not that it was, for the first 100 years and more of cricket’s history in South Africa, difficult to say which race was winning. But the match situation is changing — to the chagrin of some, not nearly quickly enough for others. Who’s winning now? That’s difficult to say, but this struggle is a long way from decided. 

First published by Cricbuzz.

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Cricket needs rugby’s radicalism

“Cricket were ahead of rugby. Have cricket taken their eye off the ball? I don’t know.” – teacher and rugby zealot Brendan Fogarty.

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

MAYBE Kagiso Rabada should have heeded the signs and not veered off his original path.

Rabada was born on May 25, 1995 — the same day Francois Pienaar’s team started their journey to World Cup glory by beating the Wallabies at Newlands. He arrived at St Stithians as a hotshot fullback.

Had he not kicked rugby into touch for a future in fast bowling, might he have been welcomed back to Cape Town on Monday among Siya Kolisi’s heroes to help thousands of their compatriots celebrate the Springboks winning the William Webb Ellis Cup for the third time?

Rabada has been the top ranked bowler in the world in two of the three formats, and is currently in the top five in both. He is also one of the 66 unfortunates who have tried and failed to claim a single men’s cricket World Cup for South Africa.

Clearly, rugby is getting a lot right. Just as clearly, cricket is doing something wrong. But what?

“There’s too much emphasis on racialism, on certain groups needing to be there,” Cassiem Jabbar said as the crowd awaiting the Boks grew outside Cape Town’s city hall.

“I believe that this Springbok team was there on merit. I don’t think there’s any other wings that we could have chosen for South Africa, or any other front row forwards.

“We are past the stage were we talk about quota players and players of colour.

“Some people are still stuck in that conversation.”

Cricket people included, and specifically the prevailing philosophy that some black people are blacker than others and thus more deserving of opportunities.

It was a radical statement coming from someone who might have been recognised as the best scrumhalf in the world had he not been guilty of playing rugby while black during apartheid.

Surely there is more to South Africa’s perennial failure to launch at cricket World Cup’s than an obsession — mostly healthy and necessary, sometimes damaging and dangerous — with colour coding?

“It’s not about plucking talent and putting it into [elite] schools,” Brendan Fogarty said. “We need to invest in communities to ensure that that talent grows in those communities.

“Cricket were ahead of rugby, when you look at programmes like Baker’s Mini-Cricket. Have cricket taken their eye off the ball? I don’t know. But you need a thousand children playing rugby to create one international.

“So if you’re taking a talented player out of a community, that community might not play anymore. We need to have communities, in their thousands, playing cricket. It’s a numbers game.”

That, too, is radical. Fogarty is an isiXhosa teacher at Bishops Preparatory School — about as elite as schools get. But he also runs the Vusa rugby development programme, which counts Springbok and Stormers flank Sikhumbuzo Notshe as an alumnus.

A much highlighted feature of the Boks’ success is that their players come from more than the familiar crop of schools.

Cricket has and is making sincere attempts to spread the gospel. But, of the 16 SA-born Proteas in the 2019 World Cup, only Beuran Hendricks did not attend a high school that has an illustrious sporting history. And Good Hope Seminary School in Gardens is hardly an impoverished township alma mater.

Maybe what cricket needs is what rugby has embraced: radicalism.

First published by the Sunday Times.

CSA miss own deadline on Cobras transformation issue

“I can’t comment on what goes on right at the top but I can certainly say there’s great talent in South Africa.” – Robin Peterson focuses on the positive.

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

CRICKET South Africa (CSA) seem set to miss their self-imposed deadline for getting to the bottom of a transformation target transgression last month.

The Cobras’ XI for their first-class fixture against the Warriors at Newlands included seven black players — one more than the stipulated number.

But only two of them, fast bowlers Thando Ntini and Tladi Bokako, were black African — one fewer than the target.

“CSA has noted the submission by Western Cape Cricket [WCC] in lieu of a request for a deviation from the administrative conditions,” a CSA spokesperson said at the time.

But, according to Cobras coach Ashwell Prince, there was nothing “in lieu” about how he had approached the issue.

“I followed the protocol,” Prince told TMG Digital.

CSA also said they would “launch a further enquiry into this incident and will consider all the related and relevant information in order to arrive at a decision about the strength and the validity of the argument by WCC”, and that, “It is anticipated that the investigation may take up to 14 days.”

That was on October 29 — the 14 days expires on Tuesday.

Asked on Monday night whether CSA had reached a decision, a spokesperson said only, “We will announce the outcome once we have concluded the matter.”

Pressed for a better answer, he became defensive.

The Cobras squad contains four other black Africans — batters Aviwe Mgijima and Simon Khomari, and fast bowlers Akhona Mnyaka and Mthiwekhaya Nabe — while another, spinner Tsepo Ndwandwa, has played for them this season.

None were injured when the game against the Cobras started at Newlands on October 28.

Mgijima has scored just 39 runs in five first-class innings this season while Khomari made two and four in his only match of the campaign.

Mnyaka took 1/30 in the nine overs he bowled on his debut in January, his only first-class match to date.

Nabe also last played for the Cobras in January, and has taken 47 wickets in 31 first-class games at an average of 43.27.

Ndwandwa has claimed three wickets in the two first-class games he has played for the Cobras this season.

In cricket terms, none of those players are banging down the door for a place in the Cobras team.

Who might have been left out to make room for another black African is another consideration.

Five members of the top six who played average more than 30 this summer, with Kyle Verreynne topping the list at 70.66 and Matthew Kleinveldt weighing in at 56.00.

The only merely black — not black African — fast bowler in the side, Dane Paterson, has taken 18 wickets at 21.55 in four games.

The other three members of the team, Zubayr Hamza, George Linde and Dane Piedt, the captain, were all freshly back from South Africa’s poor Test series in India.

It was thus in the national interest that they played. 

And in the Cobras’ interest: before that match they had lost to the Lions and drawn with the Titans and Dolphins.

The game against the Warriors was also drawn, leaving the Cobras second from bottom in the standings.

There was, therefore, no good cricket case to be made for forcing an out-of-form player into a side that needed a win at the expense of someone better equipped for their role.

But, as the Springboks proved emphatically at the men’s World Cup in Japan, quotas can lead to triumph because they open eyes that were previously closed.

There’s a good argument to be made that the Boks would not have done as well as they did had teams not been forced to pick black players.

Decades of selection bias — consciously or not — robbed black players of their opportunities.

With their presence guaranteed, they could not be unfairly sidelined.

And, what do you know, they turned out to be among the best players South Africa had.

That Siya Kolisi, Makazole Mapimpi and Cheslin Kolbe merit their places is beyond question.

As is the likelihood that, without quotas, they would never have been given the chance to prove it.  

It’s a happy ending cricket is still chasing, and the dwindling confidence in CSA’s current leadership won’t bring it any closer. 

Perhaps that vital task should be left to people who know what they’ve doing, like Warriors coach Robin Peterson.

“I can’t comment on what goes on right at the top but I can certainly say there’s great talent in South Africa,” Peterson told TMG Digital during the now controversial Newlands match.

He is about 18 months from completing a Masters in sport directorship at Manchester Metropolitan University.

Peterson hasn’t yet decided what his dissertation topic will be, but he has an idea.

“Maybe I’ll do it on ethical transformation,” he said. “Is there such a thing as ethical transformation?

“I’m living in a situation I can write about, so why not.”

Given South Africa’s past and present, Peterson won’t want for research material.

“It’s very difficult to heal wounds, but if this is your only skill in life it’s very difficult to kill people’s dreams.

“You have to give them opportunities if they’re good enough to play.”

It seems a simple statement, but South Africans will know just how complex it is.

First published by TMG Digital. 

Where the World Cup matters most: on the street

Siya Kolisi lifted the trophy for the umpteenth time, but the fire in his eyes was fresh and the rawness in his roar was real.

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

NOT for the first time since November 2, Faf de Klerk flashed his famous underwear at the crowd. Not for the last time, surely, thousands gave raucous approval.

They were gathered on Cape Town’s Grand Parade on Monday, and of a mood to share the Springboks’ joy at winning the men’s World Cup.

De Klerk duly took his place on the stage next to Herschel Jantjies, who offered him a fresh king protea.

A flower? For a regte egte oke from Nelspruit? A Waterkloof alumnus? The skater punk scrumhalf who many feel should have his bloody box kicks, well, boxed and shipped somewhere the sun don’t shine?    

“Nah,” De Klerk seemed to say Jantjies with a mildly disdainful shake of his head.

So Jantjies nipped round De Klerk’s back and quietly tucked the stem of the bloom into the waistband of the blond bliksem’s shorts.

All was revealed when De Klerk turned around, and hoards laughed — not at De Klerk but with him. So did he when he got the joke.

Nothing can go wrong when you’ve won the World Cup.

Even if it did on the last leg of the Boks’ nationwide victory celebration: one of their buses broke down on the N2 after they left the city centre for Langa. Briefly, that is — soon the tour of triumph resumed.

As the convoy oozed away from the City Hall it comprised — besides the must-have swarm of motorcycle outriders — the players’ and their families’ bus, another carrying South African Rugby Union staff, a media bus, three large luxury coaches, two of them emblazoned with the Boks’ “Stronger Together” slogan, five unmarked 4x4s, nine South African police vehicles, a three-car blue-light brigade, seven metro cops cars, and two ambulances.

And yet Damian de Allende was comfortable enough amid the clamour to go barefoot.

Cheslin Kolbe was the prow of the good ship Springbok as it inched away, the William Webb Ellis Cup gleaming goldly from his outstretched arms as the human ocean was parted by barricades just enough to allow the bus passage.

How many were there? Many more than enough to bring emotion shuddering back into the veins of hairy, hardened hacks who thought they had long been irreparably calcified with cynicism.

“Waar’s daai blerrie All Blacks nou,” one man in the mosh pit moving slowly next to the players’ bus asked his fellow celebrant, a reference to some Capetonians’ preference for supporting New Zealand over South Africa as a protest against racism that harks back to apartheid.

You could have had any colour jersey you wanted. As long as it was green and gold.

One man wearing exactly that smuggled himself onto the wrong side of the barricade. He was clearly on a mission, and soon it was revealed.

“Stop corruption,” read the hand-written cardboard sign he held up for a few seconds — before security staff swooped to shoo him back where he belonged.

Two women somewhere in their 50s brought up the rear, waving flags that didn’t exist and dancing to tunes that had yet to be heard when the only people who were allowed to play for the Boks were the same colour they were: white.

People clogged much of every street long before the Boks rolled slowly past them, and when their champions finally arrived they thundered their adulation.

Siya Kolisi, the champion of these champions, has taken his place at the front of the bus to hoist the trophy umpteen times these past few days, but when he did it again coming down Loop Street the fire in his eyes was fresh and the rawness in his roar was real.

The wave rolled over, past and through the usual suspects of life on Cape Town’s streets: the homeless, the addicted, the merely poor. They looked on, still homeless, still addicted, still poor. A World Cup win will not save these souls from the thrust of society’s cold shoulder. 

After the fantastical phalanx had made its way a block or two the road behind it cleared enough to reveal, trying to nose along in the wake of all that, a chicken wholesaler’s truck.

The frown on the driver’s face eased when he saw some tarmac where, moments before, the parade had prevailed.

But only until he looked further ahead to see, barrelling brassily, boisterously, bolshily,  beautifully, even, straight down Darling Street and directly at him and his truck, the West London All Stars minstrel group in full and fabulous flow.

The truck stopped. The driver rested an elbow on the sill of his open window, put a hand under his chin, and waited.

’Cause this is Africa.

First published by Times SELECT.

Desmond and the Springboks do it one more time with feeling

“Good afternoon, molweni, aweh ma se kind.” – Siya Kolisi hits the right note saying hello to Cape Town.

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

NOTHING can be the same after Desmond Tutu has danced to Leon Schuster’s Hie Kommmie Bokke on the steps of Cape Town City Hall.

And there the best advertisement for religion was on Monday, all 88 years and not many centimetres of him, busting his moves as the statue of Nelson Mandela looked on not knowing quite what to make to it all.

“Hie kommie Bokke …

“Hie kommie Bokke …

“Hoes!

“Bring vir ons die Wêreld Beker!”

Happily, the multitude crammed into the Grand Parade across Darling Street knew what to do: they cheered the Arch to high heaven. 

He had made a dignified exit by the time Early B took the stage to deliver Back die Bokke, and a good thing too.

“Ek is agter in die yard …

“By my bra se spot …

“Nuh!

“Ons geniet ons met ’n tjop and dop …

“Whuh!

“Dinge gaan net af …

“Vrouens kyk na die toddlers …

“En ons almal wag vir die game van die …

“Bokke!”

The rapper, who looks like he spends at least as much time in the gym as Tendai Mtawarira, strutted his stuff with the Springboks themselves lined up behind him.

Clearly, they had heard it all before enough times to have learnt the lyrics. 

Then it was Siya Kolisi’s turn to address the masses.

“Good afternoon, molweni, aweh ma se kind.”

Even the ears on Mandela’s statue would have heard the roar that earned.

“It’s been a tough journey — we’ve been together for 20 weeks — but I think this week has been the most amazing one; coming back and celebrating with you guys.

“Your message has really been amazing.”

Of course, he had a message in return.

“Look how we’re all different — different races, different backgrounds. But we came together for South Africa.

“Just take a look around you. Look how you are making it special for us.

“It’s time for us South Africans to stop fighting, stop arguing and move forward as a country.”

This being the last leg of a celebration that has taken the all singing, all dancing Boks to Gauteng, KwaZulu-Natal and the Eastern Cape in the cause of marking their 32-12 triumph over England in the men’s World Cup final in Yokohama on November 2, Kolisi has had plenty of opportunity to practise his prose.

Not that it showed. There was no questioning his sincerity. The man believes his mantra, perhaps because he is his own best example of the magic conjured when it is lived.

Asked earlier at a press conference what the players could do to bottle the joy of the moment and move South Africa’s society forward, Cheslin Kolbe seemed as stunned as if a pass to him had been intercepted.

“Jis; I’m not in the government or anything,” Kolbe said. “I’m just on the field and living my dream.”

But he recovered well enough, and was soon bolting for the tryline.

“Whatever we can do as players we will do to try and put smiles on kids’ and adults’ faces.

“It’s the inches, the little pieces, like that that can really make a big difference in someone’s life.

“And I’m sure that the rest of South Africa, from the president down, they will lay the foundation going forward.

“We have a lot of hope in South Africa, and I’m sure we can get stronger together. That’s what we believe.

“I’m positive for South Africa — I know we will stand together.”

As the Arch might have said, amen to that.

First published by TMG Digital.

Use it or lose it: we won’t have this moment again

Celebrate, the beloved country. You’ve earned the right to feel better than you have since Thabo Mbeki fell off the bus. But don’t waste this triumph.

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

ONLY once has the points margin in a rugby World Cup final loomed larger than it did in Yokohama on Saturday.

But never before have a team won the World Cup after losing a pool game.

Never have the Springboks scored more points in a final.

Never have they lost a final, a distinction only they enjoy among the five finalists.

Never had they scored a try in a final.

Never, still, has a try been scored against them in a final.

Never have a team won more World Cups.

Never have a side won the southern hemisphere championship and the World Cup in the same year.

Never have …

Bugger all that. 

Nevermind the objective facts of the matter.

Never have a team looked more determined to win than Siya Kolisi’s unstoppable band of blood brothers.

Never have their opponents looked more devastated at that determination than England.

Never did anyone, least of all England, imagine the previously dour, methodical, predictable, defensive South Africans would throw it all in the air like they just didn’t care and play the kind of joyous rugby they did when they were barefoot and 10 years old with no-one watching.

Never, from the opening confrontation until the final gong, was the result in even a smidgen of doubt.

Never have more happy, happy, happy tears been shed by South Africans in the cause of mere sport.

Never did South Africans expect to see so many of those tears flowing from the hard, unflinching, shard-shaped eyes of Daniel Johannes Vermeulen.

Duane Vermeulen, the Boks’ matchwinning No. 8, stood there — the sweat he had won from the contest shining like a medal on the vast slab of his forehead gleaming some 1.93 metres in the sky, his mighty arms attached to meaty hands now clasped behind a massive, hairy, bearded head — and sobbed. Openly and proudly and fok julle almal.

Vermeulen’s tears disappeared into his muddied, bloodied jersey. And into the hearts of all who shared his passion, where they will stay forever.

You could tell this story just as well in short, sharp exclamations as in long and winding sentences: 32-bloody-12! Two tries to none! A scrum that was an irrisistable force and an immovable object all in one! Makazole Mapimpi’s bulletproof confidence! Cheslin Kolbe’s otherworldly brilliance! Handré Pollard’s pulseless precision! Kolisi’s serene selflessness! Rassie Erasmus’ sangoma sensibilities! Jérôme Garcès hitherto unseen competence!

But why wouldn’t you want to linger on this triumph as long as you could, and then a little longer? Celebrate, the beloved country. You’ve earned the right to feel better than you have since Thabo Mbeki fell off the bus, and you’ve earned it the hard way.

You can’t eat the World Cup or live in it or wear it or have it pay you a living wage.

Winning it won’t bring back the people we murder every few years because they have come from somewhere else in Africa, nor resurrect the women we murder every day for daring to think how they live their lives shouldn’t be controlled by men, nor stop us from preying on children for reasons too sick to get into.

Rugby won’t rid us of the wilfully, brazenly useless government we elected — yes, that’s our fault — nor spare us a shamelessly illiberal opposition that stands for nothing except whatever it is the government is against — thanks, the middle class, for nothing — nor stop the only vaguelly left-wing party from becoming an ever unfunnier joke — it’s hard to laugh at seething hate.

The World Cup won’t make Eskom do their jobs, nor will it convince the people we need to convince of the bleeding obvious — that we need a better plan for making sure we have enough water than simply praying for rain.

The privileged will still be privileged. The poor will still be poor. The zombie that is apartheid, dead only for the time it takes people to bother to vote, the rest of the time rudely alive in every real sense, will still be out there. 

For all that, what happened in Yokohama on Saturday could change things. It kindles a small flame of hope that, just maybe, South Africa isn’t doomed to be remembered as the country that betrayed itself.

What chance this will make the homed see the homeless as the fellow human beings they are and not, as too many of them do currently, as filth to be swept into someone else’s streets?

Or that those who have too much will understand why they are despised, and do something about it?

Or that the powerful will become accountable to those who lend them — not give them — that power?

Like we said, that flame of hope is small. But, for now, it lives.

In 1995, when we lived in some kind of Disney movie, and in 2007, when we still thought everything would be OK, winning the World Cup wasn’t what it is now.

It’s already a cliché that the champions of 2019 are significantly more black than their predecessors, that they look a lot more like the nation the marketing people say they represent.

Fair enough. But we’re in real trouble if we still need to make the point that South Africa does not have a future if that future is not, mostly, black. Let’s hear all those arguments against affirmative action selection now. And let’s see if anyone has the balls to admit that quotas work, that without them what happened in Yokohama on Saturday would never have happened, that all Kolisi needed to be what he is was the genuine opportunity to be it.

Moments like this don’t come often. For some, they don’t come at all.

You must be blessed indeed, Mzansi, for this is your third chance to get this right.

Never, surely, will you have it again.

This time, don’t waste it.

First published by Times SELECT.

Boks light the path for SA’s other teams

“They’ve showed us how. They were fearless and they played with a lot of passion and organisation. We need to do the same thing.” – Lungi Ngidi learns from the Springboks’ World Cup triumph

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

IT will come as no shock to learn that Temba Bavuma looks up to Siya Kolisi.

Standing only 1.62 metres of grit, skill and talent tall, Bavuma has to tilt his gaze upward to catch the eye of most other figures in elite sport.

But it’s Kolisi who has caught Bavuma’s eye with his inspirational leadership of the Springboks to rugby’s pinnacle — and, perchance, to a way to turn South Africa’s troubled past and present into a better, brighter future.

“I don’t think he really understands the magnitude of what the guys have done,” Bavuma said after Kolisi captained his team to a 32-12 triumph over England in the men’s World Cup final in Yokohama on Saturday.

“As a country we’ve gone through tough times, not just on the sporting field but off the field as well. Their efforts have united everyone.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of us forgetting about all our problems, but it’s given us an escape and a drug for us to remember what this country is all about.”

Kolisi, who rose out of abject poverty, is central to that hope. 

“If you look at Siya and his background and where he’s come from it really gives testimony to the belief that anything is possible if you really believe in it,” Bavuma said.

“As an international sportsman myself I look up to the guy, and the guys around him.

“What they’ve done is something we as the Proteas envision ourselves doing and strive towards doing. They’ve strengthened our belief in doing it.”

As sweet as the invariably thoughtful Bavuma’s words were, there was a sting in their tail.

He wasn’t part of the South Africa squad that lost five of their eight completed games at this year’s cricket World Cup in England, but he would have shared their pain nonetheless.

Not that he isn’t used to feeling it. Bavuma was born in 1990, two years before South Africa went to the World Cup for the first time.

Kepler Wessels’ side surprised all by making the semi-finals, but that’s as good as it has got for a team who have made an unhappy habit of failing to fire in tournaments.

In seven trips to the World Cup they have yet to reach a final.

In their seven World Cups the Boks have made the final three times — and won all of them.

Rugby and cricket are vastly different games, but the cricketers are hopeful some of the Boks’ magic rubs off.

“They’ve proved they can do it on the big stage, so we’ll take a lot from that,” Kagiso Rabada said.

“They’ve showed us how. They were fearless and they played with a lot of passion and organisation. We need to do the same thing.”

Lungi Ngidi, too, had his nose pressed against the sweetshop window: “Having experienced a World Cup earlier this year with disappointment, to see our country do well is amazing.

“That’s the perfect blueprint. These guys have shown us how to do it.

“All that’s left for us to do is also to pull our weight as the South African cricket team.”

So South Africa’s cricketers aren’t deluding themselves that they don’t have a way to go before they can challenge for the one-day format’s highest honour.

But football in our country exists in a bubble of unreality kept intact by the fact that the top tier of the game is the richest league in sub-Saharan Africa and behind only Egypt and Morocco in continental terms.

Closer to the truth are the FIFA rankings, which suggest that a dozen African national teams are better than Bafana Bafana.

That said, we need to apply perspective to the comparison. FIFA lists 209 countries in its men’s rankings — South Africa are 72nd overall — while World Rugby has 105 competing sides and the International Council, in ODI terms, just 20.

It’s a crude measure, but it is thus almost twice as difficult to win the World Cup playing football than rugby, and more than 10 times harder than it is for cricket teams.

For Bafana to go all the way is the tallest of orders facing all of South Africa’s teams.

But Bavuma can take heart that, with less thinking and more doing, the Proteas could climb up to the Boks’ level.

At 1.88 metres Kolisi is 26 centimetres taller than the pocket rocket in pads — a significant difference, but not enough to stop Zwide’s finest son from looking Bavuma in the eye to tell him he can do it, too.

First published by TMG Digital.

Bring back the boycott

South Africa’s problems are all South Africans’ problems. Not one of us is innocent. All of us are guilty. We need to own that guilt.

TELFORD VICE in London

HANDS up if you remember the long summers and winters of empty ache while, far away across the world, seasons runneth over with international sport played by people who were not us.

The way white people spat the words “Peter” and then “Hain”, the shameless lying in the press and on air that the dross dished up on rebel tours was Test cricket and rugby, the Springboks shamefully allowed to keep touring and playing long after the extent of the evil was known, the denial writ large on the blank faces of the delusionists pretending all was normal …

I remember. I was there. I lived through it. South Africa’s forced exclusion from world sport was the white noise of my growing up. I could hear the black noise of anger on the street. At least, I could before it dissipated into the smell of fear as state oppression mounted.

The Olympics? Test rugby and cricket? International football? They were for other, supposedly better people. Not for us.

I knew that was as it should have been. That until all South Africans had the same chances in life — not only in sport — the least the rest of the world could do was not allow the apartheid government to, as we say these days, sportwash the murderous truth away.

Politics was sport. Sport was politics. Is, was, always will be. Anyone who believes differently is, at best, stupid, at worst, on the high road to fascism. That offends you? Noted.

I cheered like mad during the 1981 Bok tour to New Zealand — for the protestors. I grew taller with pride every time my father, someone I was irreparably distanced from in all sorts of ways, defiantly and in the face of vicious opposition loudly supported the man he always called “Clay”.

He did so not because Muhammad Ali was a wonderful boxer. He did so because Ali invariably said and did the Right Thing. That my father was an ardent student of the art and craft of smacking someone in the face for a living but knew that Ali’s political bravery was exponentially more important than anything he would do in the ring has shaped me in ways I’m still, at 53, trying to understand.

And here we are, all these years later, and not nearly enough has changed. We still don’t have democracy. What we have is a pretence of democracy for the five minutes it takes to put a cross on a ballot paper every five years.

That’s for those of us who still bother to vote. The rest of us know that’s a waste of time. Whether we vote or not, the government will run on corruption and stink of ineptitude. Just like it did when it was white — when none of the legally available alternatives were noticeably less corrupt and inept, just as they are now.

Too many of us believed the bullshit of the 1995 rugby World Cup. That wasn’t unity. That was marketing. Nelson Mandela was dangerously wrong: sport does not have the power to change the world. Not, at least, for any longer than it takes the cheesy fakery of a beer commercial to shamble across our television screens. That’s even less than the five minutes we fool ourselves, every five years, that we’re a democracy.

The Springbok is the swastika of sport, the symbol of what white supremacy used to do on Saturday afternoons. Yet there the filthy thing still is, leaping on the left sleeve of the jerseys of the team who will, so they have been sold to us, represent South Africa at the men’s World Cup.

Why has the Springbok survived? Because it is a valuable brand. Because it makes money. That it is also a significant part of the story of the depths human depravity has sunk to matters less, apparently. How does that make you feel? How does it make me feel? Sick.

I would feel better if international rugby’s suits, having been reminded this week of how abnormal South African society still is and will be for too many decades hence, threw the Boks out of the World Cup.

Or if India — important figures in South Africa’s expulsion and readmission to international cricket — uninvited the Proteas to their tour there later this month.

At least Zambia have had the balls to tell Bafana Bafana not to turn up in Lusaka for their friendly on Saturday. The South African Football Association’s response has not been to reflect on why that has happened and to empathise with the Zambians, but to try and find replacement opposition. How completely disgusting.

Worse, Banyana Banyana played Botswana in the CAF Olympic qualifiers on Wednesday. It is an outrage that the match went ahead — could the players and the crowd at Orlando Stadium smell the hate drifting in on the smoke from the fires set by the xenophobes they consider compatriots?

How do you talk sense into the heads of people swept up in the irrationality that those who have come from far worse realities than theirs to make lives no-one wants to live are stealing “their” jobs and “their” women? Black South Africans, you are a disgrace.

But you have a way to go to join white South Africans at the bottom of the barrel. There is no reconciling with people who, having done everything wrong for hundreds of years, think they have the right to be treated as equals despite retaining all of their privileges.

The latter calamity has, of course, led to the former. How could it not? And how did we think the main victims of centuries of systemic, institutional racial violence — black men, without whom colonialism and apartheid could not have existed — would manifest their dysfunction if not against women?   

All that’s more pathetic than women calling for the death penalty for perpetrators of gender-based violence is men seeking to distance themselves from those perpetrators by issuing confections of affront at their actions.

Some women seem to think you should go to jail if you kill a man and be executed if you kill a woman. But only if you’re a man. Nevermind that the death penalty doesn’t work, or that men are far more likely to be victims of male violence than women.

As for the shrieks of protest by men about other men, if you had lived their lives would you be that different? Or are you trying to say that being born black and male means being born bad?

Much of the noise made by these men and women rises from that swamp of affluence we call the middle class. How dare we lump these fine citizens with those other, dirtier, poorer South Africans? How could we possibly equate swinging a panga in anger with the lethal buzz of an electric fence securing ill-gotten gains?  

South Africa’s problems are all South Africans’ problems. Not one of us is innocent. All of us are guilty. We need to own that guilt if we are to have any hope of rehabilitating ourselves. 

It will take a lot more than sport to heal South Africa. But reviving the boycott would be a start. It is the least sport could do. Bring back the boycott now and bring it back properly, and to hell with how much money would be lost and whose careers would be cut short.

Hands up if you’re quietly aghast to be South African but will make noise in support of the Springboks at the World Cup?

Shame on you.

Dad? Thanks.

First published by Times SELECT.