The Apprenticeship
That was where I found my mental toughness. I needed to be the best that I could be
I won’t ever forget the last day of my matric exams in Vereeniging. I hadn’t been stressed about my future in rugby — if I was going to play for Vereeniging club, that was okay. My school career was over and my car was already packed for our trip to Margate for the big post-matric holiday. I was ready to go and was looking forward to the end of the exam so I could focus on partying. But while we were writing the paper, the principal came in and told the invigilator to let me know that he wanted to see me when the exam was over.
When I went into the principal’s office, he threw a piece of paper in front of me. “There’s your deal,” he said. It was a two-year contract to play for the Falcons. I had played Falcons Craven Week in 1998, and in 1997 for South Eastern Transvaal (when I was at Middelburg). I looked at the contract. I liked it, but what was I going to do about my trip to Margate? I had been looking forward to it and, like the rest of the kids who had just finished matric, all I really wanted to do at that point was let off a bit of steam and celebrate the end of exams.
“Can’t the contract wait?” I asked the principal, Dries van Heerden. “I’m off to Margate and I’m all packed to go.”
“That’s your decision,” Dries said.
“When do I need to start?” I asked, in the hope that I’d still be able to squeeze in my holiday.
“Tomorrow morning. Are you going to sign?”
It was one of those moments that lets you know in no uncertain terms that life is all about decisions and choices. If I’d said, “No, I will go on holiday instead,” my life might have turned out differently. I thought about it for a few minutes. This would be my first salary. So I told Dries to tell them I would be there.
My friends were outside, ready to leave for Margate and champing at the bit to get going. Why was I holding them back? When I told them I wasn’t going to Margate, they called me a chicken. You know how kids are. But in the end they were quite happy.
So my life as a professional rugby player began the day after I left school. I walked into a locker room where there were senior players like Braam van Straaten, Jaco Booysen, Ralph Schreuder … Instead of leading the life of a varsity student, I was listening to guys talk about their babies, wives and good schools.
I knew I had to get stuck in and prove myself to these guys. Phil Pretorius coached us in those years, and in my first ever professional practice session, we trained line-outs and drives. Dawie van Schalkwyk was the fullback, and I remember putting in a nice tackle on him. I heard Jaco Booysen and the senior guys immediately say that they would have to “sort out this youngster”.
Maybe what they’d said was tongue-in-cheek at that moment, but I always tell people that there is no better place to lay a good, hard foundation than to start your career in Brakpan. I’d never had an aggressive edge at school, but at Brakpan I had to find my grunt. I had to say, “Listen, I am not going to hold back; you can hit me and punch me and kick me, but I am here. I want to make a mark and I want to participate.”
Those were two tough, busy years for me, both on and off the field. My first job ever, apart from rugby, was to wash glasses in a nightclub. I’d tell my mom and dad I was staying over at my friends’, and then I would go and work at the nightclub. I was still living at home, but I was loving the nightlife, and I was doing a bit of work as a bouncer, too. Even though I was still a bit thin, my height helped create the right impression for that kind of work.
But after a while I realised that the nightlife and my career as a rugby player weren’t combining well. For a start, I had to get through some really long days. For the period that I was signed up with the Falcons, I was duty-bound to report for work in Brakpan every morning, where the senior team was based. Sometimes it was Vereeniging to Midrand Health and Racquet. Either way, it was a long drive, about an hour and 15 minutes.
Often Phil would tell me on a Tuesday afternoon that Ralph was struggling with a niggle and that I must be ready to play for the senior team on the Saturday. My hopes would be raised and I would start preparing as if I were going to play. But then, on the Thursday afternoon, Phil would invariably call me over and say, “Don’t worry, Ralph is fine.”
If the Falcons senior team didn’t need me, I had to go and play for the under-21 team, so I had to drive from Midrand to Brakpan to train at night. And if the under-21s weren’t playing, then I had to report to the Vereeniging Rugby Club. So there was lots of juggling in those years and it was full-on.
I spent a lot of time driving and rushing from one place to another, always putting in a lot of physical and mental effort to justify my first contract as a professional rugby player. I think that was where I found my mental toughness. I needed to be the best that I could be, even if I knew there was a good chance that I wouldn’t be playing for the senior team. I had to look after myself on and off the field, and it was tough. I think that set me on the path to becoming the guy who would later be known as the Springbok enforcer.