Les Bleue domptent les Springboks … un succès majeur!

This blog is for The Braai Guys who wished me luck in a comment posted last week before the game between the French and the Boks.

The headline (above)  in Le Figaro on Saturday said that the French did something (sounds nasty) to the Boks and the win is a major success. While  waiting for a friend to arrive for our visit to Napoleon’s grave, I watched a French monsieur in a café, first reading the rugby story, then reading the newspaper and then reading the rugby story again, almost as if he could not believe his eyes!

Most French supporters expected their team to lose on Friday night. But I  expected the Boks to lose. No, I am not a clairvoyant or a pessimist, but I can keep my stats. You see, in all my years of travelling to many different countries, the Springboks always lose (with one exception) when I go to a public bar, café or pub in a foreign country to watch South Africa play. I have watched us lose against Ireland in the sportz bar-cum- casino in Moscow, against England in the Irish pub in Budapest where we were snowed in after the game, against the All Blacks in a “coffee shop” in the red light district of Amsterdam and against the British Lions in Paris in the summer. And when we lose on these occasions, it is never “nice” losses but always ones in which red cards, yellow cards or poor refs are prevalent. Sometimes, SA politics and “tired” teams have also played a part.

But be that as it may, do you think that if I write a friendly letter to John Smit and the team, and ask them to try really hard to win one match (against a top team, and Italy doesn’t count) when I am watching in a café somewhere in the world, they might oblige?

“Dear John, please win a major game when I am watching in a pub outside South Africa ….Just once, I would like to be able to buy a round of drinks (and it would be exceptionally good if this game could be against England and I am watching in an Irish pub) ….”

I watched this game in Rue Cambon at a coffee shop where the owner is very passionate about rugby as I found out over my morning coffees. When the rugby got to the “put your head under the table stage”, I could at least look at the Channel frocks across the road. Looking at Channel is a step up from what I do at home when the boys play poorly. There, I clean out my kitchen shelves, which is always in a better shape when our team is off the boil! You should have seen those shelves after the World Cup victory. It was a mess!

I was the only South African present and my sense of foreboding increased when the Reggae stars got the tune of Nkosi so wrong! But no one in our venue laughed at my rendition of my national anthem so I think I am now a good contender for a public appearance at the next test! I persuaded one of my Australian co-students at the Ecole to come along (southern hemisphere loyalty) and we endured the French anthem all night long. After the game, the French bought many glasses of wine to “ease my disappointment” and played Johnny Clegg music videos to which we all danced happily together, fist-in-the-air as if all of us were winners.

Seeing that we are now on fists in the air, I must tell you that I greet our Madiba every morning at the Tulleries metro station. There is a large bill board with the photo (the one where he looked so dashing in his grey suit) of his release from Victor Verster and when we stop (and I know now which carriage to get into to be right opposite the photograph) I say “Good morning, Mr Mandela” and then the doors close and off we go.

When we were leaving the rugby-café-opposite-Channel, the last words from the French woman who “loews” Springbok rugby (her heroes are John “Schmidt” and Percy) were to “keep faith in Morne Steyn. Like Percy, he is also pretty (and she puts her hand to her face) and he will also play good rugby … in ten years time…” If the wine hadn’t rendered me speechless by then, I would have told her that we Springbok supporters never wait years for talent … we want it all now!

Before I forget, the one exception to my stats is Scotland. We always beat Scotland whether I am in Barcelona or Thollon. In two weeks’ time, unless John Smit reads this blog and grants me my wish, I think I may just pull the blanket over my head and sleep out the game against the Irish.