Amid all the hoopla that followed the extraordinary cricket victory at Bellerive Oval in Hobart last week, there was a curious non-event.

We all forgot about the coach, Russell Domingo. There were backslaps and high-fives for Kagiso Rabada, Kyle Abbott, Quinton de Kock and the rest, but Domingo was little more than an afterthought.

Who’d be a coach, huh?

Just five months ago Domingo was fighting for his life as coach, denigrated and criticised for SA’s lame showing in the tri-series in the Caribbean. Under pressure to resign, he hit back: “I am not a guy who wants to give up or quit.”

The schizophrenia that defines much of the way South Africans reflect sport – from both extremes and seldom down the middle – is perfectly found in our Jekyll and Hyde treatment of Domingo. When the Proteas are hopeless, it is his doing. When they are outstanding, he is superfluous, an incidental adjunct to the team success.

The Proteas never won the series in Australia by accident. And nor did they clean up in the recent one-day series at home simply playing by instinct. There was a plan strategised by Domingo and his management team. They helped frame the mood and energy of the Proteas, a happy by-product of a management that palpably enjoys the respect of the players.

This is no easy task. Just ask Australia for whom the blame game has begun. Selection boss Rod Marsh has already walked. There will likely be more such victims as the recriminations build.

Domingo will doubtless be enjoying himself, albeit quietly, for that is his style. He might even summon a thought or two about his luckless contemporaries in rugby and soccer.

The Springbok coaching job is said to be the worst gig in SA sport, a thankless assignment that polarises people. I would venture that the Bafana Bafana coach’s job is far tougher, simply on the basis that soccer is the national game and enjoys vastly more support from South Africans; ergo the pressure is amplified.

Allister Coetzee and Shakes Mashaba are both having a tough time of it.

Coetzee’s Springboks just haven’t fired. His selections, game plan and playing style have all been criticised, which is easy to do as the team is in a spiral of confusion. Because his management team is so young (and inexperienced) he has no mentor to turn to, no-one to point the way. And so the criticism has mounted. The Bok job broke Heyneke Meyer’s spirit. When he walked away, he did so as a disillusioned, disappointed man. The job hurt him, as it often does.

This is why someone like Nick Mallett runs a mile when a big job possibility is floated. Why would he want to take on that pain and nonsense? Sometimes money just isn’t enough. Sanity and self-worth are hard-won virtues.

Coetzee is already wearing the look of a tormented man who cannot fathom a way out of his situation. He might survive the slings and arrows, but at what cost?

And so to Mashaba, whose end appears in sight. It’s not often that a Bafana coach can see off a team like Senegal and feel like his world is caving in, but such is Mashaba’s lot. Suspended for losing his temper with the wrong people, his inability to curb his baser instincts have landed him in deep trouble.

He wasn’t always like this. As an age-group coach he was an avuncular figure known for his warmth and good humour. But the Bafana job wears down its victims. The media scrutiny is intense and unforgiving. Mashaba, to his detriment, never seemed to know how to work the press to his favour. Journalists don’t number among his pals, so when the heat was turned up, there was no-one defending his case.

He’s clearly in the cross hairs of his bosses, who have grown impatient with his strops.

If nothing else, the contrasting tales of the three coaches reflect the savage wheel that turns for sport. Every team has its run at glory. They also have their abject failings.

The coach who can successfully navigate both extremes is the one who thrives. Trouble is, not many can. – © Sunday Tribune

Baseball has about as much currency in South Africa as jukskei does in America, but the fable of the Chicago Cubs should warm hearts everywhere.

The story goes that in 1945 tavern owner William Sianis bought two tickets to the fourth game of the Chicago Cubs’ World Series encounter against the Detroit Tigers. One was for himself; the other was for Murphy, his billy goat and the mascot of his tavern.

So smelly was Murphy that fans complained until Sianis and his goat were chucked out. “Them Cubs, they ain’t gonna win no more,” vowed Sianis, whose curse took hold in baseball lore.

Aghast at how the incident cast a pall over the Cubs, Sianis eventually took back the curse just before his death in 1970. His nephew later visited Wrigley Park several times with his own goat, to no avail.

Happily, the curse was finally slayed when the Cubs won the World Series against the Cleveland Indians recently, their first championship in 108 years.

To get a sense of just how much the win meant to the city, consider that five million people are said to have attended the Cubs’ victory parade in downtown Chicago.

Local hero Barack Obama never had that many at his inauguration.

In a strange twist, the same city played host to one of the most staggering rugby results of the recent age as Ireland beat the All Blacks 40-29 last weekend.

Chicago isn’t known as a rugby city by any stretch, but famous Soldier Field provided a throbbing backdrop as the large Irish expatriate community came out to support their own. To watch Ireland tear into the All Blacks was to be reminded of their mortality, mere weeks after they had claimed the world record for consecutive wins by a first-tier nation. The team is arguably the greatest of all time, but Ireland didn’t care.

Proving yet again sport’s capacity for outrageous theatre, they got a hand to New Zealand throats early and somehow maintained their grip through a frenzied, famous 80 minutes that must surely rank as the best in their history. In 111 years of trying, Ireland had never beaten the men in black.

This was some victory, some moment for a team that played with incredible self-belief.

We might live in jaded times, and rugby has looked especially vulnerable in a fast-changing world, but this result proved that miracles still can happen. Had you scripted this, you’d have been run out of town, but the potential for upsets is what keeps us coming back for more.

Just ask the Chicago Cubs.

It was a magnificent week for underdogs, as the Proteas also proved. The omens were dark as Australia took the action to them, Hashim Amla falling cheaply and Dale Steyn getting crocked.

But the one thing you can never discount from SA teams is the fight within. Australia are ruthless performers at home, seldom losing the opening Test of a series, but they wilted under the Proteas’ relentless assault.

There was something of the miracle about it too. For my money, Temba Bavuma’s wondrous runout of David Warner would have been THE sports moment of 2016 but for Wayde van Niekerk’s Olympic heroics. At the very least, it is the best single cricket moment of the year and underscores the validity of his selection.

There were many competing narratives in this extraordinary game. That it all took place in Australia’s back yard made it all the more rewarding. So too how they pulled together when lesser teams would have wilted under the pressure.

No-one is making claims that the Proteas are the new dreadnoughts of the international game, but there are strong signs that they are a formidable work in progress. They have the makings of something special. The building blocks are in place.

Too often we shake our heads at the state of sport – look at the bewildering situation at Western Province – but little else can turn around so swiftly, and with such a galvanising effect.

Whether the miracle of the Cubs, the fight of the Proteas or the pluck of the Irish, these are fresh and compelling reminders of why we cheer. – © Sunday Tribune

 

 

It isn’t all one-way traffic on the bustling rugby highway these days.

Clement Poitrenaud’s impending move to the Sharks is a glorious exception, helping staunch the belief that it’s better over there.

The French fullback may be in his twilight years, but his role as a player-cum-mentor could be critical for a squad that is both young and ambitious. The Sharks have always led the way in embracing foreign imports, a legacy no doubt of their long-established reputation for being more verlig than most.

Players like New Zealand’s Murray Mexted and Australia’s Tom Lawton were adored in the days of Natal, Federico Mendez made a big impression (for the Sharks and Western Province) and of course the French link is magnifique with Thierry Lacroix, Olivier Roumat and Freddy Michalak all having tasted Currie Cup success. By all accounts, they loved their time in Durban.

Not leaving it there, the Sharks also had John Plumtree, the New Zealander, as coach for five years. The Lions, in turn, had success under another Kiwi, John Mitchell. Laurie Mains also left his mark in Joburg.

Their influence remains.

Many other top foreigners have tried their luck with local teams, including Cowboy Shaw (Northern Transvaal), Todd Clever (Lions), Laurent Cabannes (WP), Fabien Galthie (WP), Tony Brown (WP), Trevor Leota (Cheetahs), Peter Winterbottom (Transvaal) and Chris Butcher (Natal).

South Africa is much richer for the addition of foreigners to our exotic sports potpourri.

Indeed, domestic soccer is awash with foreign coaches, Eastern Europeans turning up with surprising frequency.

There are many players, too. One of the most successful of recent years was Collins Mbesuma, the prolific Zambian who embarrassed local strikers by smashing home 35 goals in the PSL in 2005. Now in his dotage, he remains lethal: turning out for Highlands Park five weeks ago he celebrated scoring his 100^th goal in all PSL competitions.

More’s the pity his habit for goal-poaching hasn’t rubbed off on local strikers. Case in point: the top three PSL goal-scorers going into this weekend were all foreign nationals –  Tendai Ndoro (Zimbabwe), Jeremy Brockie (New Zealand) and Mbesuma (bracketed with a number of others). Plus, the reigning player of the year is Khama Billiat, the Zimbabwe dynamo who plays for Sundowns.

Local soccer has long had a progressive bent towards contracting imports, probably because they show up so well. It’s an attitude helped by the PSL being a solid, well-established league that is superior to many on the continent. There’s also good money to be had for players who straddle the line between European and African standards.

The environment helps, too, so in the case of someone like Mbesuma, who struggled to adapt to conditions in England 10 years ago, he comfortably adapted to the SA way and has since played for six local teams.

Proof of the upside of encouraging foreign influences is also found in cricket where many of the game’s biggest names have cropped up over the years. The late, great Malcolm Marshall ingratiated himself with local fans when he played for Natal for five memorable seasons in the 1990s, as did fearsome Sylvester Clarke up on the Highveld.

More recently, the T20 circus has brought players like Dwayne Bravo, Chris Gayle, Kevin Pietersen, Sunil Narine and Kieran Pollard into local franchises. No-one pretends they come for anything other than the money, but as the experience of Pietersen showed, he was worth every cent. He belted over 400 runs and was the second-highest run-getter last summer.

Happily, the response to the foreign guard, whether in cricket, soccer or rugby, has always been largely encouraging, probably because the vast majority have made positive contributions. Indeed, someone like Carlos Spencer produced his magic and then took Elton Jantjies under his wing and turned him into a dynamic ball player.

There would doubtless be many more foreigners sniffing out contracts if the Rand wasn’t in such a bad state, making Poitrenaud’s move all the more extraordinary, but for now the steady trickle is more than welcome.

The influence of the foreign guard adds to the rich fabric of local sport and gives it a colour and depth it sorely needs. Long may this tradition last.

Bienvenue, Clement. – © Sunday Tribune