He strode the red, fertile earth of the old Western Transvaal like a colossus, this enigma of a man. Hard and uncompromising, dedicated to the extreme. For decades, his name was known in rugby circles the world over as a goliath of the game.
And I got to wear his blazer once.
In the amateur days of the sport – when ‘bricklayer’ was your designated vocation and ‘rugby player’ an avocation – Professor Johannes Theodorus Claassen was a pillar of the XV-man code that cast a shadow only shorter in reach than that of Doc Craven. New Zealand’s Player of the 20th Century, Colin ‘Pine Tree’ Meads, called him the greatest lock he had ever played against. Yes, even better than Frik. He was a Springbok player, captain, coach, manager, administrator and selector. Between 1955 and 1962, he played 28 tests for the Springboks and captained them on nine occasions.
And I got to wear his blazer once.
By his own account, he was a difficult man, something he came to regret later in life. I know, because he told me as we sat in his living room in Potchefstroom a few years back. This was not an inaccurate assessment of himself for that was his reputation, but don’t all men with a singular drive share that trait?
He regaled me with stories about the infamous 1981 flour-bomb tour to New Zealand when the pressure from protestors was unyielding. For safety reasons, the Springboks had to sleep at the respective stadiums before tests. This was at the height of Apartheid and the players – many for the first time – experienced the vitriol it evoked from the international community.
During the third and final test in Auckland, Marx Jones and Grant Cole hired a single-engine Cessna 172 armed with flour bombs, flares and anti-tour propaganda. The low-flying aircraft repeatedly circled the pitch, dropping their arsenal and causing havoc. It was war.
He showed me some of the memorabilia, including a drawing of that 1981 touring squad when he was the team manager. He gave me a Springbok pin which, to my everlasting regret, I lost.
At least I got to wear his blazer once.
He lived by the tenets of his faith and expected the virtues he held dear to be reflected by his players and, most importantly, by his captain. He despised boozing and, if he smelt the poison on his players’ breath before practice, he made sure they sweated every last drop of it from their pores. Prof. Claassen was a lecturer in Bible Studies at then PU for CHE, now the North-West University. His life-long affiliation with the institution and the Western-Transvaal Rugby Union means that, when the NWU Rugby Insti-tute annually announces its best player of the year, that player is awarded the Johan Claassen Trophy.
Prof. Claassen passed away in January of 2019, at the grand old age of 89. Why, then, do I re- member him now?
The lockdown.
For more than 40 days, books about the history of Springbok rugby and even the British and Irish Lions have been a loyal companion. Prof. Claassen has featured prominently in every one of them.
The veneration emanating from prose about him is a constant and I cannot help but remember that day. I also can’t help remembering the regret he expressed.
As our time together came to an end, we went to his garage. I was hesitant to ask, but without hesitation, he allowed my request to put on one of his Springbok blazers. He looked proud as he draped this most sacred of attire over this unworthy imposter’s shoulders.
It is a cherished memory. Prof. Johan Claassen might have felt regret, but of this, I am sure: No one who was shaped by his influence or had the privilege of his tutelage ever regretted the experience.
https://potchefstroomherald.co.za/72895/my-memory-of-prof-johan-claassen/
