The Springboks recently lost a test series on home soil against the All Blacks for the first time in their history, but it’s not the first time Louis Luyt has been embroiled in controversy. Katy Bauer reports
A CROWDED Johannesburg bar during one of the recent matches between South Africa and New Zealand. The Boks are all over the place. James Small is nowhere to be seen. The crowd inside the stadium is chanting “We want Small!”. The crowd inside the bar is chanting ruder things. Consensus seems to be that South African Rugby Football Union (Sarfu) president Dr Louis Luyt is the fly in the ointment that has made players unhappy and consequently screwed up the game.
It’s difficult to imagine a similar event a year ago: World Cup euphoria. The seemingly liberated Springboks who seemingly liberated the rest of us were winning. Everyone had that Amabokoboko feeling and merrily drowned themselves in beer and new South African flags. Now, the team which shone so brightly looks burnt out, and oranje, blanje, blou is OK by Sarfu. The moment for rugby to make a significant contribution to a fledgling democracy has trickled through our fingers.
Disquiet among the press, the government and the public about the extraordinary power wielded over the game by Luyt grows daily. Luyt is currently Sarfu’s president. Member of the executive committee. Representative on the International Rugby Board. Sole finance committee member. Transvaal Rugby Union (TRU) president. Chairman of Ellis Park Ltd.
While Sarfu boasts defensively of democratic procedure, players are contractually obliged never to criticise the union, employees who disagree with policy are either removed or walk away and nobody ever directly criticises Luyt. Why?
Arguably the most frightening thing about Dr Louis Luyt is his secretary — Susan Kruger. Defender of her boss’s fevered press paranoia, Kruger made it clear that an interview with the Godfather of South African rugby would be out of the question.
The subsequent suggestion that — a guided tour of Luyt’s Ellis Park with the option to photograph might be nice — was recieved with indignation. “You can’t just come down here and take pictures!” shrilled Kruger, as if she were guarding nuclear waste rather than a sport stadium which bulges each Saturday with sometimes inebriated rugby supporters.
A call from Louis Luyt Jr’s office a day later proved Kruger to be over protective of the turf, and we were allowed to accompany a security guard on a tour of Ellis Park.
Virtually all newspaper sports writers have been alienated by “rugby”. Luyt attracts appalling press but then he seems to keep doing appalling things and is quite incapable of seducing the media. His lack of finesse seems to have rubbed off on most of his faithfuls. Seeking objectivity from a Sarfu/TRU official is like trying to get opera out of a moose.
Like the Italian leader who got the trains to run on time, Luyt is praised for “sorting out” South African rugby after the comparatively haphazard approach of late and legendary ex-president of Sarfu Dr Danie Craven. Even before the game turned professional last year, Luyt’s ability to turn rugby into a money spinner was not disputed. In the case of the TRU — an association not for gain and therefore not liable to pay tax — it is by far the richest union in the country with profits for the year 1995 totalling R10,7-million before grants to rugby development and R3,5-million thereafter.
By 1989 the TRU was rich enough to finance the purchase of Ellis Park Stadium. The acquisition attracted Johannesburg Stock Exchange (JSE) condemnation. Insider trading was the accusation hurled at Luyt. But the amendments to the Act, which had already been printed, were passed too late to straighten the loop-hole and lassoo Luyt. The JSE was forced to let the matter lie.
Despite widespread criticism of the deal on ethical grounds, a soft loan from the TRU enabled Luyt to head Ellis Park (Pty) Ltd, but this was not enough for Luyt. As Deon Basson of Finansies & Tegniek revealed, in addition the debenture interest on the TRU investment was not to be paid back to the union itself, instead the Transvaal Rugby Sports Trust (TRST) was created to “accept control” over the money.
The minutes of the TRU meeting which briefly discussed the proposed trust, unanimously voted to grant Luyt exclusive control over all financial matters concerning the union. The minutes also reveal no details about the new body and that no questions were asked.
The seven TRST trustees are all close to Luyt and include his son-in-law Rian Oberholzer and former minister of defence Magnus Malan’s brother Avril Malan. The small matter of naming the trust benificiaries remains a secret. It can be assumed that if the trust were to benefit the TRU, Sowetan schoolchildren, injured players or any other such worthy recipients then Luyt would certainly be too shrewd not to use a noble cause to advance his shrivelled public persona. But lack of popularity has never stopped Luyt before.
The crude structures of Afrikaner supremacy have nurtured Luyt through more than mere media investigation into an itty-bitty trust fund. Miraculously Luyt walked away unscathed from two huge commercial scandals — Triomf and South African Breweries.
Both deals involved Luyt centrally; crumbled at his touch; left many ruined in their wake and left Luyt apparently no worse off.
The information scandal in the early 1980s exposed Luyt as a front for the Nationalist government, attempting to buy South African Associated Newspapers (SAAN), a thorn in the side of apartheid at the time. Majority shareholders Abe Bailey Trust refused to sell and the takeover failed. Undeterred, Luyt then posed as the investor behind the Citizen newspaper.
But Luyt follows a grand old South African tradition of shamelessness when it comes to historical misdemeanour and has now donned a new South African hat as king of Springbok rugby. Unfortunately, the headgear keeps slipping off his rather large head.
For a while he used grips like Ed Griffiths and Morne Du Plessis to keep it on, but these proved uncomfortable and Luyt ripped them out and tossed them aside. The Luyt scalp is currently exposed and looks set to become swathed in a blue and orange turban unless drastic action is taken.
It is clear that Griffiths, not Luyt, was the mastermind behind Amabokoboko. But Griffiths’s popularity, bright ideas and Englishness proved too much for Luyt. He had to go. Du Plessis’s walking away from the Boks is perhaps an even greater loss. And yet neither man has spoken frankly about problems intrinsic in Sarfu or denounced Luyt directly. Unfortunately, it seems that the good guys are either too fond of the game or almost certainly too frightened of the consequences to fight fire with fire, and of course, Luyt controls the purse-strings.
Ex-Springbok and veteran rugby activist Tommy Bedford said from London this week that he had been watching recent “developments” in South African rugby keenly. “What happened to Griffiths is pretty well what happened to me 20 years ago.”
Minister of Sport and Recreation Steve Tshwete confirmed this depressing reality: “Nothing much has changed in rugby.” Then bravely added: “Rugby is bigger than any individual and the government will not allow its structures to be an exception to the rule of democracy.” (The score thus far — Luyt 100 … Department of Sport and Recreation 0.)
In the midst of brazen Broederbond control over the game in the 1970s, Bedford spoke out in protest over the racism ingrained in the sport. “Not only was there discrimination by Sarfu against black players, but English players too.” As a consequence, Bedford was harassed by the South African authorities. But Bedford did manage to facilitate the historic meeting between the ANC and Sarfu in Harare (a progressive step for which Luyt still takes the credit).
“I tried to change rugby dynamics from the inside,” says Bedford “but the clique was too strong. So I worked outside the structures and managed to get a little more done.” After a weekend of talks, an accord which agreed to a move towards integrating South African rugby was signed by the South African Rugby Union (Saru — the non-white union), Sarfu and the ANC delegation which included Thabo Mbeki. Craven signed the accord, Luyt signed it too, but once back in South Africa the old hierarchy continued to rule the game.
The Broederbond may be a thing of the past but the rugby clique is still firmly in place — this time built around Luyt himself — ties of blood and obsequious loyalty being factors which qualify for membership. Rian Oberholzer, Luyt’s son-in-law, is trustee of the Transvaal Rugby Sports Trust and CEO of Sarfu. Luyt’s son Louis Luyt Jr is general manager of Ellis Park.
The idea of “Pops” hurling the mashed potatoes down the length of the Luyt family dinner table might well be enough to deter dissent from either family member. For the rest of the Sarfu/TRU/ Ellis Park employees and affiliates there seems to be the threat of something more damaging than starch coming their way if they stand up to Luyt.
And so, time and again crucial decision-making is left to Luyt alone. The controversial $550-million television deal with press baron Rupert Murdoch, the Griffiths dismissal, the formation of TRST, all TRU financial decisions and player contracts are all matters left up to Luyt.
The first thing Tshwete jokingly asked when interviewed this week was “Aren’t you scared of this man (Luyt)?” Luyt’s stranglehold over rugby is absolute and it looks like things will stay that way unless … “Unless they start losing … That’s the only time rugby structures will get changed, because while the results are OK then the public thinks that the way the game is run must be OK too.” says Bedford.
“Although we (the ministry) must co-operate with Sarfu, outside agitation should be encouraged — certainly in the press,” says Tshwete.
A sad conclusion for two men who love the game so dearly to have come to.