https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sOo97B-ONu8&t=0s

In the same week that Vern Cotter was confirmed as the highest paid rugby coach in the world, fellow New Zealander Warren Gatland quit as coach of the British and Irish Lions, saying there were aspects of the job he “hated”.

Both instances provide a striking counterpoint to life at the top of the coaching tree. The highs are incredible, but the lows can be devastating.

Cotter recently took over from much travelled Jake White as coach of Montpellier and will reportedly pocket a cool R21-million annually. No rugby coach has earned more.

Gatland also earned handsomely, but his bulging wallet came at a cost. The recent tour of New Zealand, a relative success for the Lions, stood out for the persistent media carping and baiting, the silly clown nose affair and Gatland’s obvious unease amid the swirl. A Kiwi himself, he ought to have known how insular his countrymen are, a situation compounded by the impact of social media. The all-seeing eye of the media and public was relentless.

Gatland’s decision, which means he won’t lead the tourists to South Africa in 2021, showed how thin-skinned he was. In this day and age, a thick skin is the most important commodity a coach can possess. Given the regular pressures, chiefly the imperative to win, it’s not a job for shrinking violets.

I remember how, 15-odd years ago, Rudolf Straeuli addressed a press conference at Ellis Park. Close to tears, he despaired at the nature of the job. “It’s just not worth it for forty thousand a month,” he groaned.

His reign as Bok coach was ignominious and ended messily, underlining the truism that it’s seldom a matter of if a coach will be fired, but when. Very few move off on their own terms.

Even Kitch Christie, the unbeaten coach of the World Cup-winning Springboks, was fired as coach by Bulls’ president Hentie Serfontein while he lay in his hospital bed.

The problem with coaches is that they start off as fundamentally decent men, but the violent twists and turns of the job can contort them into people we barely recognise. It’s especially true of the Springbok job where the pressure is white hot.

Who can forget Ian McIntosh’s crazed eyes?

Or Harry Viljoen, who tried to turn the Boks into a corporation, but then ran a mile when he collided with the real world.

I sent him a note at the time, reminding him of Hemingway’s line that fighting the media is “like two porcupines mating: one prick against a thousand.”

Peter de Villiers was another who wobbled. His reign had elements of the absurd from beginning to end and even included a concocted sex scandal. If he wasn’t talking about pots or pans, he was confusing Jennifer Capriati with Danny Cipriani.

This behaviour explains why the regular TV shots of coaches in their little box during matches can be so instructive. Heyneke Meyer wore his emotions like a neon Las Vegas sign, all fist pumps and loud whoops. Allister Coetzee tries to play it cool, but the table comes in for an awful thumping when the Boks score or do something daft.

By contrast, John Mitchell is near inscrutable and similarly Swys de Bruin enjoys only a modest celebration.

Coaches become quasi-celebrities, something they’re not always comfortable with. Sharks boss Robert du Preez is evidently someone who’d prefer to get on with the job without a microphone in sight. He doesn’t shoot the breeze with the media.

Yet Jake White cultivated strong relationships with the press, aware of the occasional need (and value) to set the agenda. He could banter all day with anyone willing to talk rugby.

The Bok job is probably the toughest for a coach to get his head around, not least the impermanent nature of it. He’s lucky if he gets a week to prepare his team and then endures entire months when he doesn’t get near them. Then there’s the political dynamic, which is like juggling mercury, not to speak of the unending corporate, public and media demands.

Sure, it pays well and the champagne out of a giant trophy must be sweet, but the gig exacts a heavy toll – even for the best. – © Sunday Tribune

 

 

 

 

 

Given where the Springboks were after the humiliation of Albany, it would be easy to paint last week’s epic performance against the All Blacks as a triumph of sorts. It wasn’t.

It was encouraging, yes, and it demonstrated the Boks’ power and passion. But it demonstrably wasn’t good enough. In the cold light of day it was a defeat and we shouldn’t applaud coming close. That’s the first step to mediocrity right there. A heroic loss doesn’t cut it.

What it did was remind us how savage the Boks can be when the mood takes them. They can be inventive, too, and wonderfully brutal.

But Cape Town wasn’t the match that defined the international season. Albany, where the Boks suffered a record defeat – not the worst; that was surely against Japan in 2015 – is the match that will live longest in the memory.

There have been some lousy days in the long history of the Springboks, chiefly in the past two decades, but few as shattering as the 57-0 belting. Even now, when you run through the team sheets or consider the conditions, it’s difficult to fathom how it occurred. It’s rare indeed that a team turns in a near-perfect performance; rarer still that nothing comes off for the opposition. But that’s what happened.

Many coaches would not have survived the fallout.

Last weekend’s match thus represented a massive turnaround, if not in the result than certainly in the performance.

Consistency, then, remains a maddening element of the current Boks. They perpetually produce their best when their backs are firmly against the wall.

Had they brought Saturday’s attitude and aggression to the Tests against Australia, they would surely have prevailed. They might even have salvaged something in Albany.

Three things stood out last weekend: the effectiveness of the Boks at the collisions, their powerful runs through the middle and their mundane game management, manifested chiefly in wayward kicking.

The Boks must learn to shrewdly mix up their game. Playing it fast and loose against Australia, as they did in Bloemfontein, was rash and brought few dividends beyond a visual feast. On the flipside, bringing a ruthless edge, like last week, has its virtues against an all-round team like the All Blacks. But, as the good scientist, Ross Tucker, says, Bok brutality always masks underlying flaws.

I’ve long banged the drum for Elton Jantjies, but it’s time to concede that he isn’t the real deal at flyhalf. He has his moments, but all the great 10s are generals who dominate and trouble the opposition. The disappointment with Jantjies is that he’s only half-formed as a flyhalf, too often mixing up good play with bad. If the Boks have designs on the 2019 World Cup, best they get Handre Pollard a suit of cotton wool and reinforce his ankles and whatever else gives him trouble.

Our scrumhalf stocks are also dangerously low. Ross Cronje is doing a holding job – he’s adequate and understands what is required – but the Boks have thrived when they’ve had game-breakers like Joost van der Westhuizen, Ricky Januarie and Fourie du Preez.

Too bad the excellent Embrose Papier and Marco Jansen van Vuuren are still raw and untested. Their time will come.

Critical in this team’s evolution is keeping the core together. The kernel of an outstanding group is there if you think of Malcolm Marx, Siya Kolisi, Eben Etzebeth, Pieter-Steph du Toit, Jan Serfontein and Jessie Kriel. The back three, though, haven’t exactly been pulling up trees. The sooner Warrick Gelant and Makazole Mapimpi are called up, the better.

The next examination of where the team is at will come in a month’s time when they play Ireland away, followed in quick succession by France, Italy and Wales. The Ireland game could get messy if conditions are lousy and the Boks aren’t switched on. They’ve been down this road and it’s not fun.

Unfortunately, for all the bright spots of the 2017 international season, that 57-0 defeat puts the Boks on the wrong side of the ledger. Only when they beat the All Blacks, now into their eighth year as the world’s best team, will they begin to erase that dreadful black mark. – © Sunday Tribune

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First things first.

Brendan Venter must be commended for signing up to Twitter and, better still, using the social media service to propagate his views, sharp as they may be.

It shows a bloke who is modern, progressive and keen to be heard. More’s the pity his colleagues haven’t done the same. Few of the leading coaches, bar Gary Gold and Paul Treu, regularly use the medium, preferring the refuge of the traditionally mind-numbing press conference.

Venter has been in the news because of a particular tweet in the aftermath of last weekend’s match against Australia: “If winning is all you see. Stop watching. Boys deserve respect not criticism” (SIC).

He took stick for his comments with some sensitive souls blasting the message.

I say we should have more of it. A coach sticking his neck out and saying what he really feels is refreshing, especially in a sports environment like ours where clichés abound. No-one seems to go off-message any more. Indeed, even the All Blacks’ constant praise of the Springboks has the feel of treacle, especially with the evidence so at odds with the sentiment.

Besides, Venter has earned the right to be heard. He’s worn the green and gold. He knows what’s at stake and what must be said.

He’s habitually blocked followers who trash him online. Otherwise known as trolls, these are the keyboard warriors who wouldn’t have the guts to front up to Venter in public. These individuals are all over social media, safe in the knowledge that their targets can’t confront them while they’re closeted away in their offices and bedrooms.

Twitter might be the “digital water cooler” of the modern age, but it’s a paradox – it’s a social network that requires no social skills.

Some consider Venter to be over-sensitive, but he’s never suffered fools gladly. He will happily engage with someone who makes his point elegantly, even if it is at sharp odds to his own. But the moment it becomes sophistry or gets abusive, he’s done. As it should be.

(Check out his “non-interview” in 2010 with Martin Gillingham on YouTube – it fast became an Internet hit – that was directed at the suits who fined him €25 000 for what he considered an honest opinion).

He’s happy to thrash out a point, but best get your ducks in a row. As with Nick Mallett and Jake White, he’ll cut you to pieces if you proffer a lame argument.

Indeed, the golden rule of Twitter is: “Don’t feed the trolls.”

Venter is also embedded in the team, as he reminded people in another tweet over the weekend: “I engage the fans for 1 reason only. I am currently on inside. I see the effort and improvement. Maybe not good enough yet but there is hope.

“When i decided to engage with the followers on twitter i automatically rocked the boat. I dont mind sharing my opinions but then respect them” (SIC).

Coach Allister Coetzee’s response was curious. He pointed out that he wasn’t on Twitter – he has a  parody account, as does Peter de Villiers – and he was certain that Venter’s views had been misunderstood.

Mind you, this is one of the failures of the medium. There is little room for nuance and context, which can be a problem for those who don’t get irony or straight talking. And there are many.

As Venter will doubtless discover, social media can be both distracting and time-consuming. The real measure of his dedication will be to see if he’s still there in a year. Many sportsmen have been hounded off social media or discouraged by their bosses, which is a pity.

The one thing absent from the local sporting landscape is open and public debate. There’s so much to be said, so much to be thrashed out, but the nannying of sport bosses and the whining of supporters discourages open and honest talk.

Venter offers a rare view into the Bok dressing room. We might not like what he says, but how refreshing to get a non-PC opinion. Bring it on, I say, and ignore the Monday morning quarterbacks who’d struggle to argue their way out of a paper bag. – © Sunday Tribune

 

 

 

 

There’s rugby revolution in the air.

Everywhere you look, there are watersheds and schisms, changes and realignment.

Rugby has endured a couple of adjustments since the advent of professionalism in the mid-1990s, but it’s difficult to think of a moment when the game was more in a state of flux.

From the top down cracks are appearing in the grand edifice. One of the biggest came from the unlikeliest source in England this week with a bunch of academics calling for an and to tackling and scrums. It’s all they’re talking about in the UK this week, the best summation coming via Wales prop Adam Jones’ pithy tweet: “Is it April 1^st?”

World Rugby sharply rejected the “alarmist” call, but it’s another bump in the road for a game trying hard to settle down.

The blazers have other matters to attend to with one senior official expressing misgivings about Japan’s readiness for the 2019 World Cup. Given Japan’s first world status, the bricks-and-mortar stuff ought to be just fine, but the broad indifference – just eight percent of locals recently surveyed indicated a desire to watch matches at a stadium – is a worry.

Meanwhile, the Six Nations, often billed as the greatest tournament in the world, sits without a title sponsor, a staggering situation given its history and tradition.

Closer to home, our own game is evolving with the Cheetahs and Kings now part of the Pro14 tournament. It’s been a frantic few weeks for them, with the rest of us looking on to see if this grand experiment has legs. The Cheetahs did their ambitions no harm by belting Leinster last weekend. It’s just as well; SA teams must justify their place.

You suspect the invitation will soon also go out to the US and Canada, who have long had an eye on European rugby. It’s a virtuous state of affairs – the UK wouldn’t half mind cracking the potentially fertile North American market. But they must tread wearily: just 6271 fans pitched up for the Premiership showdown between Saracens and Newcastle in Philadelphia the other day.

It may be sooner rather than later that SA teams soon align with the Premiership too. There have already been exploratory talks. Nothing is off the table, it seems, especially with SA having designs on forming two new franchises.

One of the victims of the shift north appears to be our beloved Currie Cup. It was always the most resilient tournament, but its standing has been chipped away over the years. It no longer seems part of the SA rugby consciousness, which is a crying shame given how it has been the bedrock of the domestic game for so long. Whatever it takes, it must be salvaged.

The power of European rugby is no more evident than in the announcement this week that the British and Irish Lions would reduce the length of their tour to SA in 2023, ostensibly because some SA midweek teams don’t measure up. What drivel. It’s because club owners are resisting long tours for their own selfish reasons.

That’s tradition for you – kicked to the kerb.

Super Rugby is also fast changing with the recent ditching of three teams. Consequently, an entirely new tournament may be birthed given that the Western Force are on the outer. Billionaire mining magnate Andrew Forrest has threatened to form a new Asian competition if the Perth team is unsuccessful in its court bid to overturn the ARU’s decision.

Anyone who makes a plan to seriously include the Pacific island teams (Tonga, Samoa and Fiji) may not make cash, but if they could bank goodwill, they’d be richer than Croesus.

Even the one-horse Rugby Championship is looking iffy. The Springboks are in troubled times, the 57-0 belting against the All Blacks having reverberated through the international game. The game cannot have one of its super powers crumble.

Argentina have lost the plot on the back of Super Rugby, having abandoned their traditional game for an all-or-nothing offloading frenzy. Not forgetting the Wallabies, who just aren’t drawing crowds.

These indeed are challenging times. Leadership, vision and backbone are required to negotiate the choppy waters. The future of the game is at stake. – © Sunday Tribune