Oscar’s new girlfriend
His public image was at odds with outbursts of temper
AGGRESSIVE asshole or humble superstar . . . who is the real Oscar Pistorius?
The question is being asked over and over as conflicting reports emerge about the man about to go on trial for murder.
At school, he was inconspicuous for most of his time in Pretoria Boys’ High, but in recent years, as an athlete of world recognition, he has been seen as a prima donna with a fiery temper and vindictive nature.
Bill Schroder, who was headmaster at Pretoria Boys’ High when Pistorius was a pupil between 2001 and 2005, recalls being concerned about whether the disabled youngster would cope when he first interviewed him and his late mother, Sheila, during the admissions process.
“But they were determined to prove to me that he was not disabled, that he was a perfectly normal boy,” said Schroder. “He’d been brought up to believe he was able-bodied and the fact that he happened to wear prosthetics was not a handicap.”
Schroder said Pistorius was able to adapt “like any other normal boy” and remained inconspicuous during most of his high school years. He became more noticeable after he had taken up running following a knee injury in rugby as a player for the school’s third XV.
In 2004, Schroder twice needed to take a firm line with Pistorius, once because of a car. After breaking a world record at the Athens Paralympics, Pistorius was given a sponsored car, which he brought to school.
“I gave him 24 hours to get rid of it,” said Schroder. “Boys were not allowed to bring cars to school.”
He was treated like any other boy. There were no special priv-
In casual conversation, away from the camera, he could swear like a sailor
ileges despite his rise to fame.
Schroder said Pistorius also missed a lot of schoolwork in matric because of his participation in athletics overseas.
“But during the second half of his matric year, I said: ‘You are not going any more.’ I wasn’t worried about his academics because he was quite bright, but we had to keep his feet literally on the ground.”
Pistorius, a prefect in matric, knuckled down and passed with a university entrance.
Asked whether he was a problem pupil, Schroder said: “I was unaware of any problems, and if there had been problems they would have come to me.”
The problems, it seems, emerged as his fame grew.
“Oscar is a prima donna,” a South African team official said at the time of the Athens Paralympics in 2004. At Beijing in 2008 Pistorius won the 100m, 200m and 400m crowns — but was a handful. “There were some journalists he refused to talk to,” said a member of the 2012 South African team. “At first, he didn’t want to do press conferences . . . Then he agreed but refused to answer their questions. He was difficult to handle.”
His relationship with teammates varied: some loved him, others disliked him.
Arnu Fourie was frank at the 2012 London Paralympics when asked by journalist David O’Sullivan how he was enjoying rooming with Pistorius.
Fourie replied that he had to move out because Pistorius “was constantly screaming in anger at people on the phone”.
In 2011, he stormed out of a BBC radio interview, claiming the interviewer had posed an offensive question.
He had been asked by Rob Bonnet: “Some people regard you, no doubt, as an inspiration to Paralympic athletes, no question about that. But it might also be said that you’re an inconvenient embarrassment to the South African authorities and the IAAF because, effectively, you’re taking them into uncharted ethical waters here. What’s your reaction to that?”
Pistorius responded: “I think that’s an insult to me and I think this interview is over.”
Bonnet denied insulting him, but Pistorius hit back: “That is an insult, thank you very much.” He walked out of the studio.
In the build-up to the 2012 Olympics, he competed at the South African championships tailed by a TV crew. After his races, he spent time with fans, a group of school children, signing autographs and having photographs taken with them.
A self-proclaimed religious person, he smiled and spoke quietly, frequently telling a child: “God bless you.” But, in casual conversation, away from the camera, he could swear like a sailor.
He never gained automatic qualification for the Olympics, but as South Africa’s f astest runner over 400m that year he was an obvious choice for the 4x400m relay team.
He had been part of the relay team’s qualification the year before, winning silver at the ablebodied world championships.
He was one of the main media attractions of the London Olympics. The only athlete to attract more attention was Usain Bolt.
After each race, Pistorius took ages making his way through the gauntlet of journalists waiting to interview him. He gave generously of his time, frequently using one of his stock lines: “I feel blessed.”
He knew how to behave in front of the cameras, which made his meltdown at the Paralympics a few weeks later, when he was beaten into second place in the 200m, a mystery.
Brazilian Alan Oliveira overtook him metres before the line to hand the South African his first defeat in this race. He accused Oliveira of an unfair advantage by using longer blades.
“Not taking away from Alan’s performance, he’s a great athlete, but these guys are a lot taller and you can’t compete [with the] stride length,” he raged. “You saw how far he came back. We aren’t racing a fair race. I gave it my best.”
He quickly apologised publicly for his outburst and was back to his humble self.