Awê Ma Se Kinnes!

On Saturday, I sprinted to the lounge to catch the start of the rugby game. Yes, sprinted.  Because I simply could not miss out on seeing Belinda Davids sing the national anthem. Whilst in other households at that time the prayer may have been “please let the Boys be focused and play a brilliant game”, the prayer in my household at that time was  “please may Belinda look smashing and may she hit every ridiculous note flawlessly”.  Happy to report that both Belinda and the Boys delivered.

I must say, I was quite surprised by my interest in sport over the last few days.  Or maybe I should not be that surprised – how can you not be moved by the drama of Olympic medals, coupled with the victorious Bokke!

And that sort of captures the kinda sports fan I am.  I don’t really have a clue as to who’s who, or who broke what world record.  I just sometimes know that, occasionally in the world of sport, there are certain things I have to pay attention to.  

Growing up, the big sporty thing for many of us was Wimbledon.  In fact, we took to the road to play ‘wimbledon-wimbledon”.    The tennis court was mapped out with sand in the road.  We became McEnroe, Navratilova, Chris Evert Lloyd,  Andre Agassi and Boris Becker.  We played until we fought.  We fought until we cried.  The game would come to an abrupt end when whoever owned the tennis bats would stomp off home in tears, bats and all.  To return the next morning best of friends.  

Prior to Saturday, twitterati kept reminding me to also focus my attention on the Olympic Swimming Pool.  There were murmurs that South African medals were going to be flaunted.  And sure as hell there they were.  By Friday midday we all knew the name Tatjana Schoenmaker.  Even I – the one who can’t tell a breaststroke from a box kick  – posted a little something about our first gold medal winner this year.

Swimming for me is much like singing.  Wait, let me explain.  When I sing in the shower I firmly believe that I am Whitney Houston.  And when I swim, I firmly believe that my technique resembles that of Ryk Neethling.  I will tell you that I have never been offered a recording contract.  I will also tell you that when I “dive in”, friends sitting around the pool just frown momentarily and wander off to the braai area.  But I can’t be bothered by the perceptions of others.  That is not how you move ahead in life!

Fun fact: I sometimes wish I were sporty.  Not as in Wayde Van Niekerk sporty, but as in socially sporty.   (One of my many shortcomings I guess).  You know those socially sporty guys.  Great with their partner.  Great with their kids.  Great at their Job.  And then great at soccer, swimming, rugby, volleyball and badminton.  Yes, badminton.  No limits to the skills of these supernatural beings.  I usually stare at those guys and think: ja but can you write a joke ?!?

To this day still, I cringe when the cricket bat suddenly appears at the braai.  How do you even pack that in alongside the potato salad!  And now the pressure is on me to stay as far away from that damn ball as possible.  It’s like being at Square Hill Primary in Retreat all over again.  Little gay Marc purposefully running in the opposite direction of the rugby ball.  But that’s a story for another therapy session.

I wish you an award-winning week.  Give yourself a medal for fabulously navigating your way through life in spite of any perceived “shortcoming”.