An hour with the PSL's Thapelo Moloantoa

Thapelo “Jigga” Moloantoa is the web editor and communications assistant of the Premier Soccer League’s official website. He is also a full-on bagel (the male version of a kugel).

Before I catch anyone sniggering, let me break it to you — the number of black kugels and bagels is growing exponentially by the day (remember, I am a Jewish husband — I can spot a kugel from 4 000 yards). Just drop into court or pop into a mall in the northern suburbs and close your eyes, doll; the results will amaze you.

This is the dawning of the age of the black koggerleffel.

Uncle Jigga and I worked together when he was my editor at SAsoccer365.co.za, where I wrote a weekly column. We met while he was trying to find out about a South African striker on trial with Derby County in England, and things developed from there. When I was asked to recommend a sports writer for Thought Leader, Jigga’s name was the one I put forward. Due to time constraints he was unable to join us at that time.

Like Ndumiso Ngcobo, Jigga is one of those people with whom you identify straight off. He is one of the guys and a full-on South African oke, no matter where he finds himself in the world.

He is also of an age that saw the worst of apartheid and the dawning of the new South Africa.

Traps: Why doesn’t your switchboard lady know your name’s Jigga? Every time I ask for you, she keeps asking me: “Who?”

Jigga: (laughing) I should send an office memo round. That’s what everyone calls me.

T: Where were you born?

J: I was born at a hospital in Garankuwa, but I spent my early years in the Atteridgeville township, Pretoria.

T: Which high school did you attend?

J: I started off at Phuthing NEST, one of those foreign-funded, chilled-out schools, and then I went on to Sacred Hearts College and finally matriculated at Rand Tutorial College.

T: Did you play any sport?

J: Soccer, table tennis and swimming.

T: How old are you now?

J: 32

T: Which means you were 18 in 1994 when apartheid ended.

J: Yep. I come from a family that was politically aware.

T: What do your folks do?

J: Officially they are both retired, but my mom is a nurse and my dad is in asset management.

T: As a well-travelled and educated guy who was old enough to know, what are your recollections about apartheid?

J: As I say, we were politically aware as a family. My earliest memories are of the boycotts. My mom was allowed to go through by the comrades and the road blockades because she was a nurse and they knew she’d be needed to treat injuries later. I remember missing school for months on end during those times.

I recall my dad used to work for Beechams, which involved his travelling to Gaborone and Swaziland. He used to help move banned books around, pass information along. He would sometimes meet with Hugh Masekela.

T: Weren’t you guys nervous of the security boys?

J: We were. In those days, guys were being sent to Robben Island for long stretches and many of them weren’t coming back. I remember a lot of guys used to sleep at our house and there was one of the 1976 leaders who stayed for a few days. He was one of those “most wanted” types. My dad also used to take part in those street committees.

I even remember when the army were using those Casspir vehicles and would fire tear-gas canisters into our yards.

T: Do you have any brothers or sisters?

J: I have an older brother, Molefi, who went to CBC in Silverton.

T: My late dad also went to CBC in Pretoria. Was your family ever detained?

J: My dad was detained overnight but there were no charges brought against him. No weekend stays, thank heavens.

T: You guys must have been worried.

J: Very. My uncle was even on the point of skipping the country until my grandfather found out and stopped him.

T: Jiggs, what did you do when you left school?

J: I was very in tune with the political situation, so I decided to study politics and international relations at the University of Cape Town.

T: Did you graduate?

J: I did. I obtained a bachelor of social sciences from UCT. After that, I was selected to go on an exchange programme at the University of British Columbia in Canada. That was only for a semester, though.

T: How was it?

J: It was great, but as I said I was only over for about six months. Then it got cold and I was back in South Africa. What was also great is that I travelled with Braam Naidoo, whose folks were in exile. On the way to Canada we stopped over on a day’s visa in Holland. Man, those guys are free. I wanted to forget Canada and stay there — there were women like you can’t believe.

[Typical Moloantoa with the chicks.]

T: And after Canada?

J: I spent a year in South Africa before the travel bug hit me again. This time I went to Germany to help man the South African pavilion at the International Expo. It’s a huge international exhibit which is done on a smaller scale every two years and a much larger one every five years. This one was in Hanover. We kind of sell South Africa to the rest of the world. That was in June of 2000. It was a short stint after which I returned home.

T: Not for very long?

J: No. I met a woman at the Lesotho pavilion in Hanover. [So no change there.] She was half-Australian, half-Lesotho, and teaching in London.

T: So you followed her there.

J: Yep. She lived in London and I was keen to travel again. I was also mindful that international relations is a small field — very difficult to break in. I wanted to do my master’s in diplomacy at the University of Keele, which is in the north-east of England near Newcastle.

T: Were you living with her?

J: Yes, in London. Funny thing happened when I took the bus up to Keele. After a couple of hours I noticed I was in Wales, so I asked the bus driver where we were. He told me I was supposed to have switched buses in Birmingham. Anyway, they were very nice about it and organised a taxi back to the correct stop and everything.

T: London was to change your life.

J: It did — we often used to go past Highbury, the stadium where Arsenal used to play before moving to the Emirates. It suddenly dawned on me that all this academic stuff was boring me to death. What did I really want to do with my life? I then realised that I loved soccer and that I’d be far happier doing something associated with the game then any academic career.

T: So you’re an Arsenal supporter?

J: I’m a Gooner through and through. Anyhow, I enrolled for an IT course and landed up working for the SA Times in London. I was their soccer correspondent.

T: Doing what?

J: I wrote a weekly column called Shibobo wherein I compared the game in England to South Africa, and I also covered the guys from South Africa playing there — guys like Mark Fish, Lucas Radebe, Shaun Bartlett and Mbulelo Mabizela. I always tell those guys that they gave me my start in soccer journalism. I also started sending my columns to SAsoccer365.co.za, from whom I was given an opportunity to return home.

T: This is where we started working together.

J: Yes, as soon as I read your columns I realised you were a nut. Of course the fact that we had the World Cup awarded to us played a part in my decision. By this time I had also met my Polish girlfriend, Paulina Kolodjzyk.

T: That’s easy for you to say [after trying the surname for the fifth time]. Any wedding plans? I’d better be invited.

J: There are wedding plans and you are invited if you can get to Poland, although we’ll probably have a ceremony here and there. [This is his way of ducking lobola.]

T: How’s the PSL website going ?

J: Brilliantly. SAsoccer365 is currently our technical host, but we will be under SuperSport, the new sponsors, come August. I’m doing feature writing and checking the stats for accuracy. 365 also does a lot of content, covering matches and [creating] banners for the site. By the way, I also worked on Fifa.com for the World Cup draw. You had to have seen this. Tons of guys buzzing around in a million different languages — unbelievable.

T: Amazing?

J: You can’t believe how amazing. South Africans think we are soccer mad; we’ve got a long way to go. The whole nation needs to get behind the team. Everything needs to start gearing up. We are way behind some countries.

T: Lack of funding at grassroots?

J: I don’t blame the clubs for this. Whatever happened to foundation football? Clubs are running a business; these guys must deal with development. They are supposed to be out there finding where the needs for clubs and development are.

T: How does the future of South Africa look to you?

J: Very positive — events like the World Cup give us a lot of confidence.

T: Are you visiting your girlfriend this year? No messing around.

J: I’m going to Poland over Easter. I have to keep myself totally disciplined.

T: When you read Thought Leader, look up Ndumiso Ngcobo, our resident Zulu beer chugger. He’s a kindred spirit — writes great stuff. You’re not Zulu?

J: Southern Sotho, but I’ll read Ndumiso’s stuff.

T: I’ll try to organise that we drag him out for a beer, but not that expensive Belgian Hoegaarten shite that you fancy.

J: Look forward to it.

T: Thanks for the time, Uncle Jigga.

J: Pleasure, Traps.