Kotie Grove was one of a kind; SA was lucky to have him
Idid not know the late Prof Kotie Grove nearly as well as I thought and not nearly as well as I wanted to or should have. The Kotie I knew was a man with a ready smile, a greeting, a joke or two and kind words that always seemed to come at just the right time.
There was so much more to him: legendary commentator, inventor of Afrikaans words for cricket commentators, a professor of classics, learned, quietly wise.
On Wednesday, during a memorial service for Kotie at a church in Melville I heard of a man who broke boundaries, pushed hard transformation, cared little for the norm, loved deeply and cared passionately.
The stories I heard were of a man who sacrificed himself, believed in others when they didn’t believe in themselves and who was far sighted enough to see and plot a future for others.
His former secretary — my apologies for not remembering your name, but it seemed awkward to be acting like a journalist at a service for a friend — told of how he pushed back against the prevailing “verkrampte” ethos at the educational institute at which he worked. He employed her, a black woman, to be the first and only black secretary at the institute. The other white, male officials were not happy. They called him “k ***** boetie”, but he did not care.
He played a strong part in the life of Shafiek Abrahams, the SuperSport Afrikaans cricket commentator. Convincing him initially to play for the former University of Port Elizabeth and then to come home to coach the university team when he was at the Titans in Centurion.
He decided that Abrahams would be a good cricket commentator. Abrahams was not as convinced and told him that his Afrikaans wasn’t great. Kotie looked at him: “Then practice.” He did.
Kotie was funny and warm and he had a depth about him that he sometimes covered with a child-like ability to see the funny in the daftest of things and the most inappropriate of times. On Wednesday, his service opened with by Leonard Cohen and Elvis Presley singing gospel. Before it, they played
which might not have pleased the Newcastle Unitedloving Kotie.
Cricket commentators and players from the ages sat and smiled and had tears in their eyes. There was wine at his “after tears”. He would have loved that. I liked talking to him at cricket grounds around the country and never realised how much he had changed the lives of others. He went out of his way to say hello and, even though we might not have seen each other for a while, he would tell me about a piece I had written and how he had liked it.
He was, his wife, Hendrina, told me, a fervent reader of the sports pages. He also dominated the DStv remote control. She didn’t have to worry about what they would watch on Saturdays as he had it sorted, channel hopping between sports.
On Wednesday, his SuperSport colleague Johnny Davids told of Kotie’s abiding advice: “Watch what you say on TV. Also, watch what you write on TV.” The writing refers to the Kotie Award, a short-lived award instituted by Mike Haysman for the biggest mistake during commentary.
It is my favourite Kotie story. During a provincial match at the Wanderers, Kotie was showing the late Hylton Ackerman how to use the telestrator to draw on the telly while the two were off air. Kotie wrote a rather rude Afrikaans word that began with “P” on the screen.
They switched it off and went for a break. When they came back, they wanted to use the telestrator to show fielding positions. The “P” word flashed up loud and proud and went out on a live broadcast.
Ackerman was horrified and tried to jump in front of the screen as if to hide the offending word from the world. Another person thankfully unplugged the machine.
I asked Kotie about it later. He told me with a grin that his entire family had been watching the game on TV. When the word flashed across the screen, his son, Thys, said: “Ma, that’s pa’s handwriting.” Then he laughed.
There will never be another Kotie. We were lucky to have him. Rus sag, Groote.