Super Rugby in need of geologists to pick through the debris
Rugby, as Frans Ludeke once famously said, is not rock science. He used those words at a media conference years ago when he was still coach of the Golden Lions.
Those were the days when the president of the union, the late Jomo King, and a few other administrators would sit in for a team announcement.
King’s booming voice would tell us of the goings-on at board level and speak about the team and how the board had confidence in Ludeke.
It was hard not to like Ludeke. He was genial and willing to talk. I rarely saw him angry. Even when he was being criticised.
Why were the Lions not winning, we asked. “Well, you know, rugby is not rock science,” said Ludeke one bright Joburg afternoon. We knew what he meant. Rocket science. Rugby isn’t rocket science. Although rock science sounded about right.
I wonder what he thought about the rock science the Bulls showed when they lost to the Sunwolves on Saturday. Ludeke was in the commentary booth in Singapore for that match.
The Bulls looked befuddled. The Sunwolves never let them settle. Ludeke lamented, gently, the state of their play. He has never been one for public criticism.
During the 2007 Rugby World Cup in France I wrote a piece about Wikus van Heerden, who had captained the Lions before leaving for the Bulls. I mentioned that Van Heerden had played in the “lost years” under Ludeke and how being picked for the Springboks was just reward for him.
My phone rang early one morning. It was Ludeke calling from SA. He was cross. Kind of cross. He said he hadn’t liked what I had written and told me that it was unkind to him. We had a little bit of to and fro, and then Ludeke stopped. “So, is Paris lekker?” He couldn’t stay angry for long. We spoke about the Boks and how we both thought they would do well. Then he thanked me for taking his call and hung up.
Super Rugby should not involve rock science but it has become a rockslide of a competition, falling down from a height. Cutting teams will be a start at correcting the wrong paths it has taken, but sorting out the rubble will take a little longer than the suits may think.
The Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon this weekend will flow along Chapman’s Peak, the iconic drive that has been occasionally closed because of rock falls. There will be calls for the fall of the president of the country after runners were asked to wear black armbands to push the call for Jacob Zuma to resign.
It will be an echo of the stand taken by Bruce Fordyce at the 1981 Comrades Marathon, when he wore a black armband to protest against the decision by the apartheid government to integrate the Comrades with the 20th anniversary of the declaration of SA as a republic.
“At the start, I was greeted by boos and catcalls and pelted with tomatoes thrown by a fellow runner,” Fordyce told ultrarunning.com.
“I was also warned to be careful what drinks to take because the secret service tried to spike my drinks to stop me from winning the Comrades.
“This run ended up being my first Comrades win. Wearing the black armband to protest apartheid was and is one of the proudest moments in my life.”
Golf has its own weird science, one that needs a little luck and destiny. It shone on Sergio Garcia on Sunday at Augusta, on the 60th birthday of Seve Ballesteros.
Sometimes, as Bob Skinstad said at the 2007 Rugby World Cup, you need the stars to align.
They did for Garcia after 74 Majors. He was pushed by his good friend, Joburg-born Justin Rose, to the end. Another star, another alignment.
“Sergio is the best player not to have won a Major no longer,” said Rose. The sportsmanship between them, the hand slaps and thumbs up, were touching and genuine.
For Garcia, the win was “better late than never”.
What made him win? What magic made him sink that 12-foot birdie putt on the 18th in the play-off?
“I hit it where I wanted to. I didn’t ask my caddie’s opinion because the putt fell towards the left.”
Not too much rock science about that, then.
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