Sometimes we ask ourselves certain questions in the privacy of our minds, and then wonder if other people would be offended if we were to ask these particular questions in public.
This is where the beauty of democracy comes in. This liberal system of ours must at least protect “the right to be wrong” and “the right to be corrected”.
It is for this reason that I am going to arrive to a conclusion that will open me up for correction; provided it is proved that I’m wrong.
And the question goes: “Do white South Africans hate local soccer”?
I’m tempted to say a big “hell yes,” but I can’t. It would be like saying Trevor Phillips, Ronnie Schloss and Raymond Hack are black, which cannot be true! Unless of course you follow the argument that being black is about the soul.
But then again the question begs, “Why is it then that our white brothers and sisters are not famous for packing our soccer stadiums”?
To avoid the risk of sounding like a black man trying to get into a white man’s mind, let me rather tell you how I became an avid supporter of rugby and cricket, since both sports were previously intended to be for whites only.
Great athletes always sell the game, regardless what sport it is. Like many “recently free” (nice replacement for “previously disadvantaged”) South Africans, my rugby spirit was incarnated during the 1995 Rugby World Cup. Besides the prevailing air of unity during that time, two players in particular, sold the game to me.
The duel between James Small and Jonah Lomu was breathtaking to watch. It was like watching National Geographic, and enjoying the uncertainty and unpredictability that engulf a battle between one genetically abnormal kiwi, and a relentless springbok.
Though I had no clue about the rules of the game, I knew I had to scream my lungs out every time SA was on the attack. I remember at one point the game rotated in one area for a very long period of scrum after scrum. This was in contrast with what I was used to — the constant mobility in soccer.
But the SA fans were on their feet during that particular period, and I was never going to be left behind. The thrill of discovering a new world was overpowering.
Zoom to the 2003 World Cup in Australia, I found myself cursing out of frustration as Louis Koen kept missing penalty kicks, which I personally felt where supposed to be taken by Derek Hougart. I was sold on the game.
On the cricket front, I always marveled at the partnership of Lance Klusener and Daryll Cullinan. Damn, those guys were blessed with the ability to hit a very small ball, for a very long distance, in a very long period of play.
To be honest, I was always bored to hell by the single runs, and sometimes a cricket test match can have way too many of those. I learnt at a later stage that it was sometimes part of the game strategy. Now I hold my breath with every run.
My initiation ceremonies for both rugby and cricket can only be explained by the concept of “an open mind.” I got to learn more about the passion of a white man besides Schwarzenegger and Rambo.
South Africa, we are missing out a lot. We are missing out on giving each other unexpected hugs in the thrill of a moment.
It is slowly happening in rugby and cricket, but we can take it further. We can take it to our soccer stadiums. The Kluseners, Cullinans and Smalls of our soccer front are waiting for our rainbow inspired shouts and screams.
A prince with dignity and determination
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The EFF’s principles are unshakeable
Unlike the ANC, the core values of the freedom fighters do not change with each leader it elects
