After a torrential down pour on the way to the train station I wasn’t quite convinced buying tickets to the Boks game, in the new South Stand, on the third tier, without a roof, was the best idea. Nevertheless, I boarded the train, along with all the other colourful Saffas that appeared from the Raynes Park woodwork.
After buying my droëwors from the”Springbok and Rose” Pub/Shebeen/House, which perfectly resembled a common architectural feature in Cape Town, and arming myself with a couple pints of beer I was ready for the embarrassment that I thought might follow.
My mate, Ben, and I introduced ourselves to our neighbours, “T-Bone” and “Wimples”, and cracked open a couple more… plastic beer bottles!
After a disappointing 14-3 start to the game Wimples and T-Bone didn’t look as happy as they did before the game. However, in a remarkable turn of events, instead of the rain pouring down on us, the drop kicks did.
At half time the score was 14-16 to the Springboks. Yes please!
Some boozed Saffa tosser in front of us felt it was a good idea to now start rubbing the score into some of the Pommies surrounding us. A little premature I thought. Then he attempted mooning the Poms. His Aussie bird quickly stopped that though, by pulled tightly on his chain.
The second half, saw more drop kicks, plastic beer bottles, and drunken insults. Once Pretorious sealed the deal, with another pin-point accurate drop kick, the Poms started to leave the stadium, in their hundreds, before the final whistle was even blown! A very satisfying sight.
What followed that was all a bit sketchy. However, I do remember a few things about the night:
- Bumping into Wimple and T-Bone at the “Cabbage Patch”, and having more beers, this time in pint glasses.
- Ben attempting to rugby tackle me in the CB pub, of course failing, but managing to tick off the big-ass, Scottish, security guard. The big-ass Scottish Security Guard did tell us off, but was in fact a nice enough fella. He even let us take a photo with a South African scarf around his neck. Bless him.
- Three of our female friends swapping their rather small Bok jerseys, with three rather large boozed England supporters. Needless to say they were rather tight fighting.
- Meeting a grey-haired South African gentleman who works in Kazakstan. I obviously attempted some Borat lines, which I’m sure he had heard a few hundred times before.
- A customary stop at the Walkabout in Wimbledon where I think I lost my glasses. Bleak Mark.