In an age of determinedly single-minded cricketers, the reading, writing, thinking André Malan is a ray of hope.
TELFORD VICE in Cape Town
IF you’re born a Malan in South Africa, prepare to be prominent. World War II Royal Air Force fighter pilot Sailor Malan was a champion of human rights in a society where they remain unachieved thanks to the evil perpetrated by people like DF Malan, the first prime minister of the apartheid state, which went through its death throes while the supreme commander of the armed forces and defence minister was Magnus Malan. Riaan Malan is a mad, bad, dangerous to know writer and musician whose searing 1990 memoir, “My Traitor’s Heart”, remains arguably the best book yet published in this country and unarguably the best dealing with those dark days. If you want to know the truth of living and dying in South Africa then, read it.
Now we have Janneman Malan, smiter of a series-clinching century in Bloemfontein on Wednesday in only his second ODI. His career in the format started in Paarl on Saturday with his toe being crunched in front of his stumps courtesy of a wickedly swinging 143 kilometre-an-hour delivery from Mitchell Starc. That made Malan the only debutant dismissed by the first ball of a game. His evening ended with him limping off the field because of a cramping glute. Pieter Malan, his brother, has given Test cricket a pair of biceps each as big as both of Nathan Bracken’s thighs. That and six hours at the crease on debut against England at Newlands in January for his 84. Then there’s André Malan, still another brother, who has played 50 first-class matches, only one for a franchise rather than a second-tier provincial side. He has scored eight centuries in 80 innings and averages 38.95. His fast bowling has earned him 60 wickets, among them two five-wicket hauls, at 29.10. You mightn’t think that puts André in the league of Janneman and Pieter, much less Malans of the stature of Sailor and Riaan. But, in the early hours of Thursday morning, with the truth of Janneman’s unbeaten 129 shining too brightly to be consigned to memory, André took to social media and offered 1,318 blazing words that began: “No. Those two letters must have made a nest in his mind and haunted him as he went to rest in his hostel bed that night. But deep down he knew the truth. That when he gets his chance he will make the hairs on the back of whoever is fortunate enough to watch him go about his work stand up. He will provide them with so much joy and awe that they, too, will believe in achieving exceptional feats while making it look like a weekend jog around the block. That is what they do, the special ones. They make mere mortals feel invincible. They make them stand up when they are alone at home in front of the television and cheer as if they are there, in the colosseum. They make them go out in the yard and argue who gets to be who in the game that is about to be played. Theatre. Art.”
What was that fateful “No”? Janneman wasn’t originally part of the North West University squad picked to play in a T20 tournament in February 2015, even though he had scored 129 in a franchise cubs game three weeks earlier. By then he also had an undefeated 214 in an under-17 provincial match and 10 half-centuries to show for his 37 innings since the start of his under-13 provincial career. But his disappointment at being overlooked was eased when injury earned him a place in the varsity squad. Still, he had scored only 72 runs in four innings when he walked out with Wihan Lubbe to open the batting in the semi-final against Stellenbosch University. They put on 140 with Lubbe scoring 52 and Malan the last man out, with a ball left in the innings, for 99. He was one of three runout victims in an innings in which none of the other seven players who batted reached double figures. Stellenbosch reeled in their target of 178 with four wickets standing and an over to spare. But three innings later Malan hammered 140 in the national club championships, and less than three weeks after that he made his first century at senior level: 129 not out in a provincial one-day game. A first-class century, 174, came eight months hence. After 65 innings at that level he has scored nine more hundreds and averages 50.36. International prominence awaits.
It’s long since been achieved domestically. December 17, 2016 at Newlands will forever be a special day for the Malan brothers. First Pieter converted his overnight 51 not out into 117 before Western Province’s second innings declaration came. Then, in North West’s search for a target of 351, Janneman made 135 and André 103 not out. Pieter took the catch that snuffed out his brothers’ march toward a century stand at 89.
All three Malans now live in Cape Town. Pieter, the eldest, moved in September 2013 in search of better playing opportunities while Janneman, the youngest, was still at high school. Now André, his wife, Elzane, and Janneman share a house in the winelands.
None of which tells the Malans’ story nearly as well as André: “I met Janneman before he was born. Myself and Pieter incessantly whispered against our mother’s pregnant belly: ‘We are waiting for you. Hurry up so we can get playing.’ When the news came that he was born [in Nelspruit] at a healthy 4.1 kilogrammes we jumped for joy. Growing up he had to start off his backyard playing career by taking cover behind a big tree in our backyard when we were playing our cricket games. He soon got the go ahead from our insanely knowledgeable (about cricket and everything else) mother that he had outgrown the protection of the bark and was able to now fully compete in Suiderkruis Street 64’s sanctioned cricket games. Our youthful and loving father was the groundsman, umpire, first change bowler and sponsor. Janneman, barely five or so, bravely and enthusiastically strutted to the stumps when it was his turn to bat. Barely being able to look over his pads, he confidently asked for middle. Sooner rather than later the only middle at play was of the bat he was holding in his hands.”
As the words of a brother, they are blood rendered in ink. They are also sentiments of support that transcend even so strong a link. And they are damn fine words in their own right: “Here is where the special ones live. On that razor-thin line between order and chaos. Where they have to contend with the dragon of chaos that hoards the gold.”
To think English isn’t his first language. Or even his second. Like his brothers André is a native Afrikaans-speaker, and he grew up with Setswana also in his ears and his mouth. English is thus his third language. He also speaks isiXhosa. An avid reader of mostly non-fiction — “I said to myself if I’m going to read I might as well read something that’s going to help my studies, so I stopped reading fiction” — he enjoys writing about “incidents that transcend the ordinary”. Like his brother’s innings.
In an age of determinedly single-minded cricketers, who seem to only cricket know and, worse, appear uninterested in much else unless it’s going to make them money, André Malan is a ray of hope. He holds a bachelor of commerce degree in industrial psychology and labour relations and an honours in the former. “I’m also registered as a psychometrist. I’m not practising as one yet as I am just focusing on my cricket career for now.” His writing illuminates a keen interest in people, so it’s no surprise that he says, “I hope it humanises cricketers.” Might he consider taking up the pencil professionally? “Perhaps. When someone tells me I’m too old and terrible to contract anymore.”
He’s 29, so that’s unlikely to happen for a few years yet. But he has a calling when he gives up the foolery of flanneldom: the Malans could use a few more Sailors to steer the family ship away from the wreckage wrought by monsters like Magnus and DF. Go get that dragon.
First published by Cricbuzz.
Bulletproof Truth 