This is a big year for South African sport, even by recent standards of excess, with three World Cups, an African Cup of Nations and the world athletics championship on the dial.

If we’ve become somewhat blasé about the glut of top-end sport, perhaps even taking South Africa’s participation for granted, a new book by sport writers Luke Alfred and Ian Hawkey is a timely reminder that our victories and successes have been hard-won and seldom without drama or pathos.

Vuvuzela Dawn is a book that celebrates South Africa’s return to democracy, more specifically democratic sport, when our aspirants could take their place at the top table after years in the apartheid wilderness.

It’s a remarkable work for several reasons, chiefly that while the headlines may be well-known, many of the stories and anecdotes within are fresh and vibrant. There is nothing recycled or weary as these two excellent craftsmen go about lifting the lid on the narrative that shaped so much of SA’s – and indeed our own – sporting life.

The benefit of revisiting so many of these moments, arced as they are across 25 years of democracy, is that time lends a deep perspective. Participants have developed clarity and context for their deeds and, untethered to their sport, are unafraid to speak openly. Vuvuzela Dawn is much the richer for this.

It’s also for this reason that many of the stories are much less about sport, but are fundamentally South African stories; that is, accounts of angst, self-doubt, recrimination and parochial animosities.

The chapter on Staaldraad, for instance, is less a condemnation of the bizarre Springbok boot camp than a reflection of everything that was wrong about South African rugby. It segues from the grotesque camp to the Geo Cronje-Quinton Davids racial ruckus and, more painfully, to the suicide of the Springboks’ technical analyst.

The aeon brought several such bad days, such as Edgbaston 20 years ago and that match and that runout.

As for the tension, there’s a wonderful telling of the interaction between Steve Waugh and death bowler Damien Fleming.

With four balls left, Waugh asked Fleming: “Any thoughts?”

“Yeah,” said Fleming. “Some fucking kryptonite!”

Such nuggets permeate the book, like one particularly lurid exchange involving South Africa’s rowing coach and a member of his crew that demonstrates the sort of raw emotion that goes into developing a gold medal-winning team. It’s a story that jumps off the page whether you care a jot or not about rowing.

It’s remarkable how familiar many of the themes are, and how they creep into so many of these events the past 25 years. Issues of tribalism, transformation, quotas and administrative bungling are manifest.

The chapter on Caster Semenya is especially revealing, and also reminds us how much nonsense she had to put up with for so many years. This, happily, is counter-balanced by Wayde van Niekerk whose world-record race will never fade in the memory. Even if it does, Hawkey paints such a glorious picture of his golden run that it will likely remain the definitive account years from now.

The soccer stories are especially vivid with colour and detail, probably because Alfred and Hawkey share a deep affinity for the game. But I suspect it is also because the stories behind the Cup of Nations triumph, Shabba’s goal and Pirates’ Champions Cup voyage are so extraordinary given their exotic backdrop and Africa’s penchant for surprise.

Inevitably, there are some absences. More might have been made of Bryan Habana, perhaps the greatest of Springboks, and a totem for the new South Africa. Then there was Nick Mallett’s world-record run with the Springboks, another high-water mark for SA sport.

Soccer, too, has had its moments, not least the shattering events of 2001 when 43 fans were killed at Ellis Park.

And what of Oscar Pistorius, the man who flew too close to the sun?

Ernie Els probably deserved his own chapter, although the story behind the Presidents Cup of 2003 gives some sense of the stature of the great golfer.

But this is a minor quibble when ranged against the epic moments the writers did opt for; each of which makes a compelling case for inclusion.

This is an important book that charts the improbable journey South African sport took from the moment it stepped into the light in 1994. They were crazy, heady days at the start and much of the naivete displayed by our teams and the participants becomes evident when measured in contemporary times.

As a final assessment, it is remarkable how much our sportsmen and women have achieved in the past 25 years. Inevitably, there were missteps too, moments we’d prefer to forget, but remain burned in the memory.

Nonetheless, heroes abound and we sit comfortably among many of the greats of world sport, notwithstanding the problems and challenges that continue to afflict our ambition.

Vuvuzela Dawn is powerful testament to this truth.

Vuvuzela Dawn is available all over the place. Buy it!