Last weekend I tried to establish from friends the real lyrics of the 1980s hit Mshaye John Tate, uthath’ama-chance (Beat Him Up, John Tate, He Is a Chancer).
It turned out that part of the Gap Band song — an ode to the then world heavyweight boxing champion “Big” John Tate — had no lyrics. It was actually instrumental. How blacks across the country agreed they would add the lyrics they did is beyond me.
Mshaye John Tate referred to the champ’s beating of “Great White Hope” Gerrie Coetzee. Tate became a hero in black South Africa. In fact, the popularity of the song far outlasted his four-month reign. But his victory in front of a hostile crowd of 80Â 000 packed into Loftus Versfeld was also a victory for black people.
The image of a white male Afrikaner being pummelled by a darkie would be savoured for a long time by those who had suffered the brutality of apartheid.
Now imagine the scenes two weeks ago Saturday in Soweto — and probably many other townships in South Africa — a few hours before the Springboks took on England for the right to be called the best rugby nation for the next four years.
Groups of friends were making arrangements about where they would watch the match; Mamelodi Sundowns brought their encounter with Arrows forward by two hours so that it would not clash with the big game; flags and banners flew from cars.
Imagine, too, the scene after the victory. Vuvuzelas pierced the air; there was singing and dancing in the streets; drivers were spinning car wheels. It was, as my mother aptly put it, “as if it’s New Year’s Eve”.
Sport in South Africa is not just about fun and games. It is, to misquote the great Liverpool manager Bill Shankly, “more important than that”.
Those who continue with their misguided view that religion is the opiate of the oppressed will have us believe that sport is to modern societies what religion was before the age of enlightenment. They think that the pursuit of knowledge is all that defines human beings.
Imagine for a moment that we didn’t know whether the Earth was a billion or five billion years old. Would it change the ordinary person’s life? The point is that not every human endeavour must have an end beyond its pursuit. But I suspect I digress.
Sport has oftentimes given society glimpses of a future desired. It has been the embodiment of the pursuit of a better life for all which recognises that even in our egalitarian hearts we appreciate that there are some among us who can run faster and jump higher. And there’s recognition that they deserve the trappings that come with their ability and application, provided they did not use unsavoury means (such as steroids or cheating) to get where they are.
In modern South African history it should matter that a white South African of Greek descent, Andy Karanjiski, lifted a trophy on behalf of Orlando Pirates at grounds overlooking the spot where Hector Petersen was shot dead four years earlier in June 1976.
Just as it ought to matter that two people, polar opposites economically speaking, can fight for the success of the same team: Itumeleng Khune (who had to sleep at a train station when he first arrived in Johannesburg) tries to stop Kaizer Chiefs’ opponents from scoring, while Kaizer Motaung (born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth) tries to score as many goals as he can for Chiefs.
This is telling for those who want us to believe that the poor (such as Khune) could never have common interests with the well-off (such as Motaung).
And so, as the Boks dominated Soweto that Saturday night. I hope that those who have held on to the mistaken view that rugby is among the last surviving vestiges of Afrikaner culture will now know that South Africa does indeed belong to all those who live in and owe their loyalty to it.
Rugby’s exceptionalism is fictitious. It belongs to South Africa just as much as kwaito and wors. If its supporters really love the sport, they will want to share it with as many people as possible.
On the World Cup final weekend, black South Africans demonstrated their willingness to transform their attitude to rugby and things white. The transformation ball is now firmly on old rugby’s advantage line.
On the net
Fikile-Ntsikelelo Moya’s blog on Thought Leader