Luyt’s rugby legacy airbrushed from museum

ONE of the more meaningful of the Heritage Day events this week was the opening of the Springbok Experience at the Waterfront in Cape Town. It’s a brilliant museum: cutting edge in the way it creates and conveys a credible narrative of the history of South African rugby.

Situated in the elegant Portswood House with Table Mountain looming in the background and the harbour spread out below, it takes you along a winding passage from the origins of rugby at the turn of the last century, through the era of international isolation, where the walls become narrower and the ceiling is lowered and painted black — a dark setting for a dark era. One of the most interesting artefacts showcased here is the original 1981 Book of the Unwelcome, the anti-apartheid Kiwis’ counterpoint to the official letter of welcome sent to the Boks by the New Zealand Rugby Union. Signed by 3,764 New Zealanders, and addressed to Johan Claassen, manager of the benighted Bok team that toured New Zealand in 1981, the covering letter politely requests the team to “return home”, expressing its “abhorrence of apartheid”. It is notable that this three-decade-old document has survived, and is a welcome sign of the times that it is enshrined as part of official history.

Next up is a celebration of rugby’s black heroes, which segues into the modern era, brought to life by the powerful presence of the current Bok squad, taking a brief break from their preparations to take on the Australians at Newlands on Saturday. Young flank Siya Kolisi, who is turning out to be as talented on the public relations front as he is on the field, told journalists in English and isiXhosa that he was grateful to yesterday’s black heroes for paving the way.

The best of the South African Rugby Union (Saru) was on display on Tuesday: Andy Colquhoun, GM of corporate affairs and the driving force behind the museum; CEO Jurie Roux and the entire Bok management squad.

Unfortunately, though, they are only half the story. A glaring omission from the Springbok Experience is the late Louis Luyt, who appears to have been airbrushed from history. It is understandable, given how divisive he was. But he did drive the negotiations that ushered in professional rugby: the 1996 $555m broadcast deal with Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation. The sale of broadcast rights still provides the bulk of Saru’s income. Of course, 1996 was also the year in which he forced then president Nelson Mandela to spend two days being grilled in the witness box in an attempt by the then president of Sarfu (now Saru) to avoid a commission of enquiry into maladministration.

Luyt’s legacy lives on in other areas. He is the man responsible for the current distribution of power in Saru. In his 2004 autobiography, Walking Proud, he writes: “To facilitate South African rugby’s bold entry into the brave new world of professionalism, we needed to drastically reduce the number of Sarfu unions from its all-time high of 23 … After tough and at times trying talks, we ended up with 14 unions.”

The same 14 unions designated by Luyt still run South African rugby. What probably influenced Luyt in his distribution of largesse was the extent to which he could rely on these unions to support his own battle to stay in power.

It could be surmised then that it is no coincidence that several of Saru’s member unions are clustered around Ellis Park in Johannesburg, his own seat of power: Springs (Valke), Potchefstroom (Leopards), Witbank (Pumas), Welkom (Griffons). In most of the areas presided over by these unions, very little rugby is played and the unions rely on their share of Saru’s broadcast income to stay afloat. Yet they cling grimly to the divine right bestowed upon them by Luyt: around R10m a year and two votes each in Saru’s highest body, the general meeting of union presidents.

Unlike the Boks, they are not measured on their performance. They are accountable only to themselves. In the next round of elections for Saru’s executive arm (the exco), the same group of men will do deals among themselves that will ensure they keep their seats. The demands of professional rugby have changed dramatically since the Luyt era. But much of Saru remains stuck in 1996.

None of this should take away from the Springbok Experience. Its great achievement is that it presents for the first time outside of academia an integrated narrative of rugby: the wounds and wrongs of the past are acknowledged, slighted black heroes restored to public glory and a solid platform laid for the future. All in all, it is a fun, interactive format.

The Springboks said it gave them an increased impetus for Saturday’s match: reinforcing what they already know: that rugby is so much more than just a game.