Jason Venter SQUASH
This week’s South African squash open national championship, staged first at Johannesburg suburban courts and later on a portable glass court in the middle of Sandton Square, is no doubt one of the premier events on the South African sport calendar – as if anyone cared in this era of Hansiegate and multimillion-rand contracts.
These incredible athletes are, as professionals, flesh and blood representations of the amateur sporting spirit.
Take Fabrice Ruscoe, a young Durbanite, standing 1,83m tall in the night chill outside the courts this week. Sadness has slowly germinated in Ruscoe’s eyes. He says it is simply too tough for a young South African to try for a career in professional squash today, what with the international travelling and the limited opportunities on offer on the local circuit. Ruscoe is at the tail end of an outstanding junior career, a champion in grooming, but he says he will certainly not last more than one more year as a professional.
Ruscoe once produced a performance of great courage and cheek against the maverick Shane Mann in an under-17 interprovincial match. Mann had just fought off a match point and the referee was waiting for Ruscoe’s call on the set. Would he call for a win by one or two points? Ruscoe wiped the sweat off his hands on the side wall for the umpteenth time and casually raised a solitary, cool finger. He went on to lose the match, but such style would be missed.
Slightly more fortunate in his professional career is fifth seed Adrian Hansen, who arrived home last month fresh from club commitments in the tiny European country of Liechtenstein.
Women’s second seed Angie Clifton-Parks says she and boyfriend Craig van der Wath, the fourth seed, were considering buying a Johannesburg squash club.
In the early Nineties, Angie would occasionally engage in frenetic matches against her sister and fellow South African international, Chanti, demonstrating a sibling contest to match that of Venus and Serena Williams that came and went without catching the public eye.
I will not be surprised, however, if on Saturday June 17, spectators do not queue up for seats in the grandstands, newly erected around four glass walls at the Fountain Court, to witness, perhaps, a final between top seed Glen Whittaker and Rodney Durbach.
Two years ago, Whittaker beat an opponent in the interprovincial Jarvis Cup after playing against the player and a partisan crowd. After shaking hands with his opponent, he looked at the crowd and smiled.
In these times of devilment in cricket, ransom in rugby and lethargy in football, such a display of sportsmanship and good manners might be too much for the cynics of Sandton Square to bear.