This one’s for ‘The Burra’
TODAY is the biggest game in the history of Maritzburg United. In fact, it is the biggest sporting moment in the history of Maritzburg, a city united by a team that has given Friday nights a purpose.
Ask anyone who has left, and they will tell you that not much happens in Maritzburg. They wouldn’t be far off, because the city is not called “Sleepy Hollow” for nothing. You go to school or work, you finish, and then you come home.
Monday to Fridays are as predictable as the weather. When the sun is up, it is an oven. And when it disappears, you could swear that the city is planted on the other side of the Drakensberg mountains. You have school sport on Saturdays, and a braai or a potjie along the Dusi on Sunday – after church.
The larney ones may ditch the braai and play golf, but they will still come past for their chop and their catch up. It is a simple life, which is why the football club that comes from these parts is often misjudged as being elementary. They have shown to be anything but this season.
The venue that United use, the Harry Gwala Stadium, is a perfect metaphor for the city. It is half-done, still under some vague construction, but carrying on regardless. That is Maritzburg, a city still pushing on, trying to emerge from the shadow of Durban.
If you are a true Maritzburger, you will know that there are a few fundamentals in the city. The Dusi race, College Old Boys day, the Comrades, United home games – and a “Quagga”. Cape Town has its Gatsby, a moerse ode to listeriosis, to be sure, and Gauteng has ikota to fill the souls of the masses.
In Maritzburg, the famous “Quagga” is best consumed at about 3am, after bad decisions and great memories have been made. You haven’t gone through the proper passage to Maritzburg-ness if you haven’t craved one, because there is nothing quite like it.
Today, United take on Free State Stars, and they need to be chowed with all the relish that this city still attacks its Quaggas.
There must be no apology, no sentiment, and no mercy. This is the time for the city of Maritzburg to emerge from the shadows, and touch new heights.
Yes, the Quaggas that we will quaff will be, much like our stadium, unfinished come Sunday’s sunrise, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. We are a team under construction, and a city under the same banner.
Which means this grand occasion is not the pinnacle, but only the beginning of a Maritzburg dawn. “Team of Choice”, do the right thing.
Free State Stars... put that in your Cape gatsby and bite it!
BEVAN Fransman had quite a dilemma on his hands this week. Even in the biggest week of his club’s history, Fransman’s consternation revolved not on strikers he will have to mark, but around his young son, who was demanding to be on the plane that may take his father and Maritzburg United into the history books.
“He has watched a lot of finals on TV, and seeing the kids of players holding the trophy and playing on the field. As soon as he saw that w e were in the final, he was all over me, demanding he has to get down to Cape Town,” the lanky United skipper explained this week.
Fransman knew he would not be forgiven if the light blue and white of Maritzburg are draped on the Nedbank Cup this afternoon, and he lifts the trophy with his son watching it from 1000km away, instead of metres away from him.
These are good problems. Indeed, they are problems that most people associated with United could not have dreamt of having to deal with – even at the beginning of this remarkable season. They have learnt to dream, and they have made sure not to forget the sweet sensation.
For Fransman, a veteran of 17 years, 10 clubs, 19 international caps and a million miles travelling the globe, this campaign at United has been a breath of fresh air. In two seasons, he has seen the KZN Midlands outfit develop from occasional upsetters to absolute go-getters. “A lot of people thought my move to Maritzburg was ludicrous. They couldn’t understand why I’d want to come here, when I still had a few years left in the legs,” he remembers, casting his eye across the city he calls home.
There are no bright lights here, no obvious distractions to take footballers’ minds away from the task at hand. That very environment of humility has been the making of this United revolution – a team constantly fighting to get a piece of the bright lights. “I understood the vision, and I knew there would be a lot of work. But I also knew there was a lot of talent,” he said by way of explaining his choice.
“We had to start by getting solid at the back, and then building from there. We enjoy the job, and we love fighting for clean sheets. That was the key, getting the ugly side right before we started playing the pretty football.”
United’s displays this season have certainly been eye-catching; an alluring, inspiring mix of buccaneering and ekasi football. They have thrilled their resident fans at the Harry Gwala Stadium and, in return, those fans have given them their hearts and hopes.
“It is an amazing atmosphere. We tend to play our home games on Friday nights, and you can feel the excitement building through the week,” he smiles.“There was one game against Platinum Stars, where we were behind going into the last ten minutes. The crowd could see we were trying, but it just wasn’t happening for us,” he recalled.
In seasons gone by, most of the fans would have skulked off into the dark weekend before the final whistle, lamenting their long trek to eMbali, Raisethorpe, Sweetwaters, Sobantu, Pelham and every other corner of Maritzburg that they flock in from on Friday nights.
“But no one left. In fact, they started singing even louder. That gave us so much belief, and we not only scored an equaliser, but we also got the winner,” the skipper beams proudly. They have become a part of us, a real twelfth man when we need them.
“They make the stadium bounce when they are in full voice,” he adds, his face lighting up as his mind flicks back to some unforgettable scenes on their home patch. “That is why the cup final is so important to everyone associated with the club. We want to win, because it would mean a lot for the city, and a lot for a coach who has backed a lot of these youngsters,” Fransman said, acknowledging fellow Capetonian Fadlu Davids.
These are the days they both dreamed about, kicking balls under the mountain. No one could have ever imagined that they would reach this pinnacle in their careers at little Maritzburg of all places, but such is the way that a football rolls, sometimes.
As United end their penultimate training session of a glorious season, Fransman scratches at his greying head, and ponders the question that awaits him when he gets home. He has never won a cup on South African soil and, at 34, he knows these precious opportunities slip away as fast as the winter sun that is setting on United’s season. “I have to take him. I have to make a plan,” he smiles, his mind made up.
Deep down, he always knew that there was only one winner. And today, he hopes that little boy has plenty to celebrate under the very mountain where his father’s football dreams first took flight.