God is in the details…

In minutes dissapears…

It’s Friday the 22nd of June and I’ve just switched over to the Junior World Championship game between the Baby Boks and the Baby Blacks. Five minutes into it and it feels like someone has plugged my body into an electrical outlet. The pace of the game is so frantic it feels like my eyes are battling to keep pace. Every player is on fire with the desire to win for their team and their respective countries. The crowd is chanting the name of the Baby Boks to such an extent you can’t hear anything else. A note on the screen tells me that the stadium in Cape Town, is packed to the brim.

A player from each team is red carded.

I watch as the Boks score then the Blacks score. The battle is Titanic, it feels like the world itself is holding its breath as this game unfolds. The Boks score and I shout it in excitement. My poor puppy looks at me fear in her eyes. I pick her up and embrace her.

The game continues and the fever pitch rises. Tries are scored and referred to the TMO for a decision as no one wants to make a mistake at this level. Ten minutes left and the pace ratchets up  a notch. There is a virtual wall of Black as the the Baby Blacks lay siege to the Baby Bok try line.

The clock ticks down as the game comes to an end, the crowd count down the seconds and the ball is kicked out and the Ref blows his whistle. It’s done ! The Baby Boks are the new Junior World Champs ! The Crowd goes wild, the Baby Blacks looks like they want to cry.

It’s the 23rd, it’s cloudy and cold with rain. But the inside of each Springbok supporter there is a little green flame that keeps them warm. They watched a brilliant win the night before, which has whetted their appetites for this afternoons encounter between the Springboks and the English. The English need a win here, to salve their wounded prides. They’ve lost the war, but they can still win the last battle.

The day drags on and eventually 5 ‘o clock arrives and the game gets underway. It starts off at a much slower pace when compared the game the evening before. I write this off to a more mature (and older) teams strategy for the last game of the 3 game series.

Morne gets his first kick in, I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s my hero, and I really feel for him when he misses. Especially when you consider all the records he holds ( The game doesn’t get any faster or better. It’s raining and the guys are slipping – literally and figuratively. Morne tries a drop goal and it misses. You can feel the tension in the crowd. I’m sure most of them watched last nights game and are sitting here thinking what the hell ? Every now and again the camera shows the new coach, Heyneke Meyer talking animatedly into a walkie talkie. Nothing seems to change though.

Morne misses more place kicks, the crowd now starts to boo the fallen hero. Substitute him HM – bring Elton on. This is the last game before the 4 Nations (or whatever the f_ck i’t called) experiment a bit, you have a very talented bench filled with players just dying to come on and impress you and the supporters who paid good money to watch this game !

The commentator remarks that the Boks have only ever had one draw with the English in the last 100 odd years. This will be number 2. The game grinds on, the crowd continues to boo my hero. My blood boils and I start shouting at the TV. Is HM the right man for this job ? My precious Bulls are being slated by HM’s decision to put under performing Bulls players in key positions. Not good, not good at all dude.

The final whistle goes, the game ends in a draw, you can almost feel the anguish of the players. Australia and New Zealand completed their tours with clean sweeps, not so the Springboks. Last night the Bokke hammered their opponents. Today the Springboks got hammered by the English, the supporters and a coach I’m starting to lose faith in.

The Junior Boks touched the Sky, the Senior Boks swam in a sea of shit. I was stunned as to how 2 teams, from the same country, under different leadership, could play such very different games. At least the Juniors have hope and faith, while the seniors seem to have despair.

This weekend Super Rugby resumes with the Bulls facing off against the Cheetahs, I have sent a prayer up to the Heavens that there will be Divine intervention for my team as they lick their wounds and try and pick up the pieces and hopefully have a decent end to the Super Rugby season.

Heyneke, dude, I was at a breakfast where you spun us a story about the future of of the Green and Gold. I hope you weren’t spinning us a fairy tale. Soccer in SA is rubbish, Rugby isn’t. Please make damn sure it stays this way.

Here’s hoping Mr. Meyer !

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