As the Springboks waited to claim the prize they’d sweated so long and so hard for, President Cyril Ramaphosa sauntered across the stage. It seemed as though he wanted to either accept the trophy himself, or be the one who presented it to Springbok captain Siya Kolisi. He was going to play some role in the proceedings. And he didn’t bother to check whether any of the administrators or coaches were with him; inserting himself, he simply gatecrashed the party.
These things are usually carefully choreographed. The players get their medals, the trophy is handed over to the captain and the fireworks start. The players then have a riotous celebration — the mission finally being accomplished. It’s a short, almost reverent, interlude that allows the players to savour the moment they richly deserve. Coaches and administrators often stay away. Rassie Erasmus, architect of this campaign, was standing right at the back.
To hell with that, the president must have said to himself, I’m going to walk in there and take charge. It was a bit awkward. Initially he seemed unsure whether to simply stand in there or to join in the jollity. So there he was jumping up and down with the players. It was, to put it mildly, a tad unpresidential. I was so embarrassed for him I changed the channel. Amid the tsunami of jubilation and congratulations, Ramaphosa’s office released a cryptic message on social media. “One president,” it said. “Two Rugby World Cup wins.” I guess that was the point. It’s all Ramaphosa’s doing. We should all be indebted to him. Apparently we owe him a victory lap.
The Springboks were able to lighten our load though; they give us something to smile about amid an avalanche of bad news. Hopefully the country can now no longer be defined only by its soaring crime rate or endemic corruption. It is the land of the all-conquering Springboks, with a historic fourth World Cup under their belt. We have to thank the Springboks also for a bit of light. Miraculously, no switch tripped, no wet coal was delivered to power stations. Even our frenetic minister of electricity stopped dancing, probably to watch the rugby.
What’s been conveniently overlooked is the fact that the Springboks’ success is a direct rebuke of government failure
And, of course, ANC worthies were falling over themselves to congratulate the Springboks. They must have been wondering how so many people could have turned up to welcome the team without the promise of T-shirts or food parcels. It’s all very surprising that the comrades are thrilled at the team’s success, given that it was not so long ago that they wanted the emblem consigned to the trash can. It was a symbol of a hated system, they said. They almost succeeded in butchering it but for Nelson Mandela’s intervention, earning him the tag of sellout from some quarters. Eventually, a compromise was hatched for the emblem to share pride of place with the protea.
Even then, others wanted the emblem to be relegated to the jersey’s upper arm, almost hiding it. It just didn’t belong anywhere near the beating hearts of proud South Africans. But it seems the protea is regarded as superior to the springbok emblem, which was sacrificed during the tournament to make way for the Rugby World Cup emblem. Instead of proudly displaying their own emblem, the Springboks had to wear the symbol of a flower. That somehow sums up our persona, and dilemma, as a country: we’re always mired in a muddled consensus. No decisive action for fear of displeasing one or the other constituency. The idea that all sporting codes should wear the same symbol is charming but unrealistic. England’s rugby team wear a rose, while the other codes display variations of the three lions. And the sky hasn’t fallen over there.
Hopefully now that the Springboks are everybody’s darlings, the converts will fight for the emblem to be restored to its rightful place. Ramaphosa, like Mandela before him, can nudge everybody in that direction. And there’s a little lesson that our eminencies could perhaps learn: while we all agree that apartheid was a horrible and cruel policy that disfigured and destroyed many lives, not everything that happened in the past is bad, just as not everything that’s happening in the present is good. The evidence is staring us in the face. There are always shades of grey.
But what’s been conveniently overlooked is the fact that the Springboks’ success is a direct rebuke of government failure. The leadership acumen of Erasmus and Kolisi is in stark contrast to the deceitful vacillation of Ramaphosa and his government. That clarifies things for ordinary people. To paraphrase the old United Democratic Front slogan: the government divides, the Springboks unite.
For the government, Kolisi has been something of a double-edged sword. While they have taken pride at the success of a black Springbok captain, he’s been able to speak his mind in a way that a Duane Vermeulen or Eben Etzebeth, for instance, would not have dared to. They would have been buried in a pile of insults for venturing into anything mildly political. But Kolisi has been singing the same song since Japan 2019: the Springboks are able to bring smiles to people’s faces in a country whose government has betrayed them. And this week he was able to tell the emperor to his face that he has no clothes. The president responded by giving them presidential certificates. Are they worth the paper they’re written on though?
But the desire to bask in the glory of the endeavours of others is a reflection of a national malaise. We’re too quick to take credit for the fruits of other people’s hard work, whether it’s about earning money we haven’t worked for, naming things after ourselves, or even stealing or corruption. The Springboks have just spent a gruelling few months away from home, yet every nook and cranny feels it’s owed a visit. Everyone wants their pound of flesh. We’re like hyenas who only turn up to feast on the carcass. How or who caught the prey is none of our concern.
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