Six weeks ago, I was one of many South Africans who were diagnosed with World Cup rugby fever, with the only cure being to watch all the matches.
To be honest, this fever was unlike any other, as I did not really feel sick, and, following the strict instructions to be cured was quite a blast (although very tense at some stages!)
So, as this fever reached its all-time high on Saturday, 2 November, I, like all my fellow South Africans, made my way to a nearby venue broadcasting the final game, to show my support for the pride of our nation, the Springboks. The afflicted ones could be recognised by a few things, the most prominent one being greeted with, “Go, Bokke!”
The atmosphere was electric, and all the supporters, no matter what race or background, were united in their unwavering support for the Boks. As the National Anthem started playing over the speakers, the crowd rose as one, and sang loudly, together with the players on screen, and as the whistle indicated the start of the game, a loud cheer went up.
I know that I was one of the many South African supporters who were a bit worried about the team’s performance and execution of their coach’s game-plan, which caused me to look on anxiously at first. But, as the team was awarded a penalty in the first minute of the game, I felt a little bit better. And, as the game progressed, I started getting really excited, believing that this team was a team that wanted to win that coveted trophy.
Yes, the first 40 minutes of the game might have been a bit predictable and almost boring, but there were glimpses of something bigger, and, as the second half started, these glimpses became more and more, until Makazole Mapimpi showed exactly why he was in the team, and became the first ever Springbok player to score a try in a World Cup final. And, while supporters were still cheering for this fleet-footed wing, Cheslin Kolbe’s speed and brilliant side-step left England’s Owen Farrel behind, and he could only watch as Kolbe dotted down for South Africa’s second try.
These were the moments that will forever be etched in my memory, but it will never ever beat the moment when, with only two-and-a-half minutes to go, the camera zoomed in on the engraver next to the field, carving South Africa’s name on the trophy for a third time.
As the final whistle blew, I celebrated with my fellow South Africans, my heart swelling with pride (and eyes filled with happy tears) for a team that never allowed criticism (of which there was a lot, think Willie and Faf) to derail them from their path. They did not let one failed game make them lose focus and they rewarded their loyal supporters with the Holy Grail of rugby, the William Webb Ellis Cup.
And, as Siya Kolisi lifted that cup, I could only say, congratulations, baie geluk, ukuvuyela, ukuhalalisela, mahlohonolo Bokke! Halala amabokoboko, halala!
