Happy defeat not a good look

Rugby flafJannie du Plessis was bang on the money last Saturday.

Speaking in the aftermath of the ferocious Springbok match against the All Blacks, he waxed philosophical: “When they say you’re good, you’re not as good as they say – and when they say you’re shit you’re not as shit as they say!”

He was referring to himself after weeks of enduring quiet whispers about his form and fitness. Yet he might have been talking about the Boks, who are caught in that twilight zone, in the public consciousness at least, between being good and perhaps not very good.

The one thing that is palpably dangerous is being satisfied with a brave, heroic defeat, but a defeat nonetheless. It says something about our psyche that we took the path of highlighting the positives rather than going into mourning for losing to the All Blacks. That’s how it used to be, when defeats were only ever ugly, sombre affairs.

We’ve dropped our standards in recent years – 15 wins out of 52 Tests against the All Blacks since readmission – and mostly resort to a shrug of the shoulders.

It’s not a good look.

South Africa’s chief failing remains one that has hobbled them in recent years: wasted chances. It’s not enough to aspire to an extravagant game, and occasionally produce one, without providing a flourish. You could often see at Ellis Park how the team produced opportunities only to be frozen by uncertainty. They had their foot on the throats of the All Blacks, only to release the pressure.

It’s like a dog that chases a car and doesn’t know what to do when it finally catches up.

Such weakness matters little against Scotland or Samoa, but elite teams like Australia and New Zealand present few chances. You can’t afford to show frailty. If you do, they will savage you.

The difference between the Boks, as world number two, and the world champion All Blacks, is how they back themselves. They never panic and have enormous reserves of self-belief. They soak up pressure and exert it themselves, always confident that they will find a way. Any way, as we saw with Richie McCaw’s cocky try that spoke of their swagger and innovation. They’re always daring, always different.

Was it legal or not? It doesn’t matter. The score is in the book. Chalk it up to All Black cunning.

BallerEasily the best feature of the Boks is their hard physical edge. Watching closely from the sidelines, it was staggering to see how brutal players like Schalk Burger and Bismarck du Plessis are. Big men, they throw themselves about and smash into players constantly. I’ve seen car crashes that were less violent. Too bad the Boks ran out of gas towards the end; a worrying reality.

Last week’s game was of an incredibly high standard and it was obvious the Boks are trying to broaden their game. Many of their best moves were inspired by Damian De Allende and Jesse Kriel providing punch and panache in the midfield. It was a combination that came together through accident rather than by design and it looks outstanding. Quite how, or where, Jean de Villiers fits in will be a major problem for Heyneke Meyer to ponder. Maybe De Allende could switch to wing.

There were other small victories. Lood de Jager was compelling. He’s a real giraffe of a man; busy, bustling, bruising. Francois Louw remains the quiet, sinister assassin and Willie le Roux has shaken off his self-doubt. When his instincts are tuned in, he’s as lethal as Ben Smith and Israel Folau.

The one thing we should get used to is the certainty that the Boks will not be at full strength come the World Cup. But neither will the other big guns.

Injury has visited all the major teams and it will be touch and go whether some top players get on the plane. Such is the nature of the modern game with its enduring fixture list and violent physical cost.

Although Argentina lie in wait, the Boks can take heart from Du Plessis’ homespun wisdom. They are there or thereabouts. With a little tinkering and greater conviction, they might even scare the All Blacks. – © Sunday Tribune

 

 

Riding rugby’s hell road

Ellis PYou would think that a city as large and as ugly as Joburg would have learned by now how to stage big events.

Fat chance.

For more than 30 years Ellis Park has hosted Test match rugby and other major fixtures. And it’s still a dog’s breakfast.

Getting to and from the stadium for the South Africa-New Zealand game on Saturday was an exercise in frustration and bother. My instincts tell me this will always be the case, but I foolishly go against my better judgment, somehow hoping the next time will be different.

Traffic is a disaster. The lack of adequate public transport means that 50 000-odd cars head to Doornfontein in search of 10 000 parking spots. Do the maths.

Traffic control is a contradiction in terms with Everyday Joe suddenly adopting the habits of the average taxi driver. Cue chaos and gridlock.

We opted to hop out of our bus – there were no coach lanes, obviously – and hotfoot it from one kilometre away. It was faster, but meant traipsing our way through piss-filled puddles, broken pavements and the detritus so familiar to urban Joburg. Nasty stuff, but the happy banter around us made it tolerable. Barely.

The next challenge was getting into the stadium precinct itself. Our first port of call was the security check, which was horrendously overwhelmed. Two thousand-odd people, many of them kids, were bottle-necked and at a standstill. I’ve seen All Black-Springbok loose mauls that were less physical.

Check one negotiated and it was on to the shiny turnstiles. That’s not strictly true. Test match day, 61 000 people swinging by, and an entire row of the things was out of order. South Africans have the perfect word for this reality: slapgat.

The quality you really need for attending major rugby in Joburg is endurance. A bloody-minded attitude is what was required to then snake through the narrow security point where tickets weren’t scanned, but simply torn in half. This is how stadium disasters happen. They first simmer at the gates.

The legacy of 2010? Pull the other one.

Getting out was no less taxing, but you can imagine the cheery mood with many fans a dozen beers to the good and less than impressed that the Boks had lost. Throw in a couple of cars parked slap-bang in the middle of exit points and you get a sense of the bedlam that ensued. Guys were proper woes.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have attended big-time sport in many countries. I once took in an American Football game at Metlife Stadium (82 500 capacity) in New Jersey two years ago. It took us 10 minutes to get in, park and hand over our tickets.

(It did take us two hours to find the car later, but that was our fault).

The Johannesburg experience, which includes FNB Stadium, is unquestionably the most miserable, soul-destroying experience of them all. The average rugby fan is treated like crap. Pay your money and shut up.

To cap it off, my black colleague was told to bugger off as we negotiated our way out.

At least the rugby was world class.