Let’s hope Nelspruit can be the start of Boks reaching for the stars like Wayde

WHERE were you? What were you doing?

Almost everybody I have encountered yesterday asked me these two questions. People specifically wanted to know if I was in front of my television set at 3am when Wayde van Niekerk stunned the sporting world.

I was in bed, fast asleep because of my own stupidity.

I went to bed at 10pm already to get a few hours sleep ahead of our golden boy’s big race. I had already put out my coffee mug on the counter and filled the kettle with water. All I had to do when I woke up was boil the water and put on the television set, which was already on the designated channel for the race.

At about 2am I woke up, saw the time and decided to put off my alarm, because I didn’t want to wake my wife and kid. But I made the mistake of telling myself I’m going to stay in bed for another five minutes to prepare myself mentally for the cold. But, when I eventually opened my eyes, it was 6.30am. Eish ...

During those “five minutes” I had a dream that I overslept and phoned the one guy who I knew was awake and watched the race. I phoned our Olympic guru Ashfak Mohamed to ask what happened, and he told me, in the dream, that I had been better off in bed because “Wayde finished fourth.”

So I woke up in a bit of a dazed, confused and angry state. I was confused by the dream, but angry that I actually didn’t wake up in time to watch the race live. But when I eventually strode into the living room, I decided to avoid my phone and the result at all costs.

I didn’t want to experience that second-hand emotion of knowing the result and then watching the race. But what if Ashfak’s news in the dream was reality? Would I be able to stomach it? Our golden boy Wayde flopping on the biggest stage?

I went ahead and put on the TV and pressed the “OK” button on the PVR, which took me back to the time when I first changed the channel. I then casually forwarded the decoder to just before the start of the race and I pressed pause.

One thing about me that people don’t know is that I tend to get carried away with emotion when I watch sport. I can’t sit and watch a tight match or a race. I had run a 800m race with Caster Semenya and a 400m with Wayde at the world champs in my living room.

So I moved everything out of my way in the living room, but I had to shout “binne toe” because everybody in the house was still sleeping.

I pressed play and watched Wayde go out like a bullet. “Isn’t he going too fast?” I thought. I was already done by the 300m mark, clutching my neck, which had been stiff over the last few weeks.

Wayde wasn’t done, though. And it was that burst of his in the last 50m that led to the tears flowing down my cheeks. It was one of the greatest moments of my life. It was one of the great days for South Africa.

I remember a time when I felt such pride after the Springboks won the 1995 and 2007 World Cups. I remember the tears of joy.

Over the last four years we haven’t had any “Wayde” moments by the Boks, but this weekend their road to redemption starts in Nelspruit.

The Boks beating Argentina on Saturday or winning the Rugby Championship in 2016 will never compare to Wayde’s achievement, but it will give us all hope that they can reach for the stars again. Just like Wayde.