RUGBY: Jon Swift
THE decision by Uli Schmidt to call it a day, hang up the Transvaal and South African number two jersies he has worn with such distinction, leaves a vast gap in this country’s rugby.
There have arguably been better hookers about in the course of the history of the game in this country — throughout his career the 33-year-old Pretoria doctor has been criticised for playng ”too loose”.
Be that as it may, he was the preferred face in the middle of the front row in 17 official and unofficial tests and weighed in with two tries.
Perhaps the most enduring memory of Schmidt though will be the sawn-off sleeves with the tail of his jersey hanging out as he delivered his own marriage of unbridle aggression and consummate skill.
As one ex-provincial player so succinctly remarked, ”Uli vat nie kak van helicoptor pilots nie.”
Schmidt, son of Springbok Louis, never gave less than everything to the tough business of hooking at provincial and international level.
It is of import that national coach Kitch Christie would go so far as to typify Schmidt as ”my rugby son” but ample evidence of his value as a player.
Especially as the neck injury which has ended Schmidt’s career throws a rather large and awkward spanner into the machinery of Christie’s preparation of the team for the coming World Cup.
Schmidt — as he is in any side — was to have been an integral pivot around which much of Christie’s thinking was centred, as a player, and off-field motivator and loose cannon who so often fired the death salvo for the opposition.
Schmidt’s ability — indeed his determination — to do something different has all too often left the opposition flat footed as he popped up on the wing, in the centre or even at times behind the fullback.
It is an approach to the game of rugby football not usualy found in the coaching manuals and had much to do with the often undeserved criticism of Schmidt as a ”fringer”.
And surely, much of this carping can only have been because of the unconventionality of the tearaway hooker. Opponents — and surely the odd helicopter pilot or two – – would tell you different.
Schmidt played the game as hard as anyone before him and it was only his peripheral vision and almost uncany instincts for being in the unexpected place at the most opportune moment which has led to this modern myth.
Rugby, viewed from the perspective of the terraces or from the steaming confines of the scrum, will somehow be a little different without ”Uli die Boelie” around to make things happen.