This may sound a little odd, but I still haven’t quite let the satisfaction of the Boks winning the World Cup fully sink in.
Perhaps it’s a case of wanting to savour the emotion, the joy, for a long, long time.
ALSO READ : My Take: Dicing with death
Then I remind myself that, no matter how badly we play in the next few years, the IRB won’t suddenly reach out a mean ol’ hand and snatch the trophy back.
I watched it at a local golf club.
Everyone stood and sang the national anthem and pulses quickened.
Not many knew all the words. My seven year old was one who did.
I saw a woman turn around in astonishment – I wasn’t sure if it was because he has (possibly) inherited his father’s (out of key) singing voice, or because he belted out the hard parts of the anthem with ease.
Full credit must go to the school for teaching this new generation of kids to sing the anthem with such confidence.
Just need to remind him that the right hand goes over the heart and not the left hand over ‘nothing’.
Watching Siya Kolisi and Tendai ‘Beast’ Mtawarira, in full cry, singing the national anthem was quite something. I knew in that moment we would win. Without a doubt. Destiny.
Obviously I didn’t say anything, but I just got the sense the Boks had something extra the English did not have.
I watched most of the match in a state close to something that could be described as catatonic – too nervous to even breathe, or move in case England scored.
My son bristled like a puppy about to go a run every time the Boks went on the attack.
When Makazole Mapimpi scored I let out a ‘Braveheart-like’ yell, but it was nowhere near loud enough to be heard in the bedlam that erupted.
When Cheslin Kolbe scored not long after, I was close to tears. As were many others.
What a match. Can hardly wait now for next year’s Incoming Tour and Rugby Championship!
HAVE YOUR SAY
Like the South Coast Herald’s Facebook page, follow us on Twitter and Instagram
To receive our FREE email newsletter, click HERE
