Mon the Boks

WHY I'M SUPPORTING THE BOKS ON SATURDAY

Back in the old, old days, before all seater sports stadiums became de rigeur, Murrayfield had a west stand, the other three sides being covered in terraces.  The clock tower that now resides between the east stand and the turnstiles used to sit proudly atop the south terrace, long before there were digital displays.  Officially the capacity was about eighty thousand, but because you could just turn up and buy a ticket on the day in 1975 the Five Nations tie against Wales was played in front of a sardine like one hundred and four thousand.  At least you couldn't get cold.  Internationals became all ticket after that...

At international matches the schoolboys (I say 'boys' because I can't recall any girls going, but could be wrong) seating, benches in front of the terracing and not far in from the east touchline.  Close to the action.  However for one game, in December '69, we were told to sit in the north end of that big stand, as a safety precaution.  The opposition was the touring South African side, who were confronted with anti-apartheid protests at every point along their journey, and a few of these demos turned into scuffles, so it was thought best to protect us wee innocents.

Innocent?  I was thirteen, so maybe I should have known better.  But my parents never discussed politics, the subject wasn't  raised at school, and ignorance is my only defence.  It shames me now.  This would be the last time the Springboks toured these islands until the nineties, although rugby as a sport was more culpable than many in maintaining contacts with their racist counterparts.  Not a proud history.

The release of Mandela brought the beginning of an often painful transition that continues to this day.  Scars like that take a long time to heal, and anything , however small, that can chivvy that process along, is to be encouraged.  And that's why I'll be supporting the men in green next Saturday, as i did this morning.

When your own country's team finds itself on the plane home from a world cup you find yourself free to support whoever you wish, for whatever reasons work for you.  With Scotland out early my inner francophile took over and I looked to France as 'my' team.  That didn't last long.  So when the final four became clear my allegiance switched to the Africans.  Not because they play the most entertaining rugby (they certainly don't), not because they were favourites (they still aren't), and not because of any particular player I like (although Faf de Klerk is curiously watchable despite the constant box kicks).  But because Siya Kolisi is captain.

South Africa have already won the World Cup twice, and those occasions did help bring the country together a fraction more each time.  But this feels different.  That world of '69 would be just that little bit further away if next Saturday sees the cup being lifted by the first black captain of his country's rugby team.

Of course my choice of finalists to support is made easier by the other participant.  It's hard, culturally, not to subscribe to the The Lincoln Position (good ol' Abe).