Monday, November 5, 2018

John Smit's, Captain In The Cauldron

I recently read John Smit's "Captain In The Cauldron" and I have to admit that I had to eat my hat. And I did so with a humbled ego.

I was (and basically still am) a very superficial lover/fan/supporter/whatever you wish to call it, of rugby. And in this capacity, I have been very critical of a lot of the goings on surrounding South African rugby without knowing or understanding the bigger picture (as I mention on my Instagram post at nicole_naicker13), especially so about John Smit during his tenure with the Springboks and the Sharks.

But reading this biography has opened my eyes and I more than willingly rescind all my previous criticisms about John Smit and all those who backed him.

For someone with such a limited understanding of the game of rugby, I sure do have a lot to say about it. The thing is, I really do love rugby. But as I said, my love of the sport is absolutely shallow. I love it just for it being. I simply take pleasure in watching the game - basically watching men run around a piece of grass with markings on it, fighting for one oddly shaped ball just to run across the field and slam their bodies into the ground to score points. I cannot explain it, it makes no sense, but, it excites and thrills me and I just love it.

Despite this love, I have never been able to grasp the details behind the game, and I have made numerous attempts. I know when a try is scored. I know that after a try a conversion attempt is made at the goal posts. And if a foul has been committed a penalty is awarded to the opposing team and they either kick for goal or try something else (this too I do not fully grasp). And I know the points awarded for each. I know an obvious foul play when I see it (such as the tackle made by Englishman Owen Farrell in this weekends game against the Springboks). But I don't understand all the rules involved in the process. Such as why a certain move was illegal or when you kick for what or what on earth is meant by the advantage line! It's all, whoop! Over my head.

From early on in this novel, my views were being contested. My mind was opened up to things I never knew existed and I have to give due credit to Smit for the roles he played in South African rugby all round. He clearly played a vital role, one that I was too ignorant to understand. He had a still composure about him that made him the perfect man for the job at the time. Maybe this is what blinded me to what he brought to the table. I realise that when it comes to a leader, you don't need someone who is all flamethrowers and fireworks. You need someone who is calm and composed and able to see the team as a whole and work for the betterment of the team at all times. That is what Smit did. I will admit that part of what made me dislike Smit was the fact that I am a Bismarck fan and to me, at the time, having Smit on the field meant that Bismarck lost prime game time. I still do feel that Bismarck lost a lot of his prime rugby years playing second fiddle to Smit and I really wish that things had worked out differently, but then again, there is so much I don't understand. I am, however, holding out hope for a Bismarck biography one day.

Apart from changing my mindset on the grander scheme of things, Smit took me into the stories that I had skimmed while growing up and rumours that never quite made it to light. He gave me the "inside scoop", the behind the scenes of the games I had sat and cried my heart out for as well as those that had my mum hiding all the cushions and contemplating getting me a special "rugby" chair for when I started getting too worked up and slamming my fists into whatever was near me.


I recall that 2007 super 14 final. I was in matric (giving away my age here). The match was on a Saturday in Durban. I so wanted to go, but being in matric meant having to make sacrifices (fat lot of good that did). Furthermore, I had tuition classes on the day of the match and my parents wouldn't let me skip. But I refused to acknowledge missing the match. So I recorded the match. Avoided all media whatsoever the entire time. (This was easier back then when cell phones weren't so common and the internet wasn't as easily accessible as it is today, also I didn't own a cell phone till I finished school). I made my dad keep the car radio off on the way home. 
My parents knew the score. But they had to keep any signs of it to themselves. I got home and put on that tape. Back then I was much more passionate about the game, I was also more temperamental. I'd punch the furniture and jump and shout and dance in accordance with what was happening on the field. I don't remember the details of the game. But that feeling. When they just lost. That heartache. So close, but just to miss it. And now to read John Smit's account of it... To find out the little niggles that could have been avoided that could have resulted in a different ending... But that's life hey... Everything happens for a reason? But reading his account of it. His first-hand experience and his emotions, I felt like I was sitting beside him on the bench in the field that day. I teared up reading this chapter. And wow. I see it from a different side now.


This was just one incident, I felt this way about so many incidents in this book. It felt like I was transported back in time, only this time I was reliving my own experience of events as well as experiencing Smit's experience of it.

I actually wept while reading this book. many times. It may sound silly to cry while reading a book about rugby, but it was just emotional. I don't know if that speaks more to John Smit or his co-author, Mike Greenaway, or if it speaks more to my emotional state of being... Either way, this is a book I'd recommend to rugby lovers and maybe just curious minds in general... I certainly feel it was worth my time.