Andy Capostagno rugby
‘Dear Santa Claus, I hope you can find time during your busiest period to visit my humble home in Hermanus. I can assure you that the mince pie and glass of sherry will be above the hearth as usual and while I am grateful for the presents you have showered on me in the past I wonder if you could see your way to a few special requests this year.
“What I really need is a flyhalf. A flyhalf, and while you’re at it, a hooker. And maybe a fullback … oh, and a loosehead prop and one of those Rassie Erasmus dolls that doesn’t break when you drop it … I’m sorry, I seem to have wandered off the point. Anyway, as I said, if you can make it to Hermanus it would be great; anything else would be a bit of a bonus, really. Yours truly, Harry”
It shouldn’t have to be this way. A Springbok coach shouldn’t have to begin his tenure by noticing all the things that are missing from the mix. He should be able to look around and hug himself with pleasure at the boundless talent at his disposal. But the fact is that at the end of the year 2000 Springbok rugby is at its lowest ebb since readmission.
There will be many Pollyannas out there who believe that an exciting new era is on the horizon, one in which Springbok rugby will not need to rely upon quotas to reflect more accurately the demographics of the land. That may well be the case, but it won’t happen next year and we may have to wait until after the next World Cup to see real evidence of new strength.
Springbok rugby never used to be like that. It used to rely upon the fact that each new season would reveal handfuls of great new talent, the envy of such utilitarian sides as England who struggled to find 15 players of Test quality in each generation, never mind each season.
But time has taken from us a rich legacy that will not easily be replaced. Last year it took Andre Joubert, James Small and Henry Honiball, this year we saw the last of Hennie le Roux and, at the cruelly young age of 28, Os du Randt. Next year, for many and various reasons, we may have to wave goodbye to the careers of Joost van der Westhuizen, Ruben Kruger and Chester Williams.
All but Honiball in the above list played in the 1995 World Cup final. There were those who doubted at the time the true quality of that team. They said the captain, Francois Pienaar, was not Test class and that a game plan that revolved around kicking the ball over the opposition dead ball line was an admission of weakness and poor tactics. Time has proved otherwise.
This year the South African Rugby Football Union (Sarfu) found a risible excuse to get rid of Nick Mallett, a coach who had served them nobly for three years.
They accused him of criticising Sarfu in front of a journalist, a tacit admission by the governing body that nine years on from amalgamation the old line was more important than the new policies: “He that hath a secret to keep must keep it secret that he hath a secret to keep.”
Mallett’s dismissal may seem significant now, but in the broader scheme of things what was more remarkable was that Sarfu did not find an excuse to sack a coach in either 1998 or 1999, given that Viljoen is the eighth Bok coach in nine years.
It makes you wonder whether a few New Year’s resolutions need to be uttered in the corridors of power. “I will not make knee-jerk reactions. I will not prescribe conditions to the coach. I will not accept touring itineraries that would kill the Rolling Stones.” That sort of thing, anyway.
So what is there to look forward to? Well, in the year that South African cricket found not one, but two black Africans to carry its bowling attack, is it too much to ask that the millions of rands poured into rugby development will bear fruit?
Thanks to Sarfu’s forced quotas we have had plenty of coloured faces in the Currie Cup and Vodacom Cup competitions and several have deservedly won Springbok colours. What we need now is the equivalent of an Mfuneko Ngam, a player not simply good enough to play at a higher level, but to dominate and exude sheer class. If he were to be a flyhalf, so much the better.
Maybe that is too much to hope for, but the lesson of history is that the next big thing is just around the corner. Let’s hope that when it comes along Sarfu doesn’t dismiss it for the heinous crime of talking to the press.