Sport is like that… it draws us in, wraps us tightly in its grip, and before we know it, there’s no escape. Often, there’s no logical explanation as to why you love a certain team. It could be a loyalty that is passed down through generations, a connection that grew when your favourite player joined them, a fascination that began due to an obsession with their jersey (you know who you are!) or something even more bizarre.
Today, I’m telling my story of a sports team that saved my life… Dramatic, I know, but hey, it’s my story. This is a team to which I will show unquestioned loyalty — simply because… Well, really because, they brought me back — the cricket-obsessed, cricket-dreaming/ eating/ sleeping maniac… the one who’s room was covered with posters and inspirational quotes; whose cupboard was filled with jerseys (read: painted t-shirts), and books about players all around the world.
Because, truth be told, for the last few years, I have wanted nothing but to shut that side of me down. I had briefly given up, and had wanted so badly to turn my back on the game and never look in its direction again… I felt broken, battered, but mostly betrayed — by my dreams, by the mantras being thrown in my face (hard work = success — it's not a direct equation, you know), by my blinding ambition, and somewhat by the people around me (although, truly, they had nothing to do with it). Therefore, I wanted to run as far away as I could — to drift off into the abyss of nothingness…
But I digress… This is not a dark story. So, let’s get back on track, shall we?
First, a history lesson:
If you’re a women’s cricket fan (I assume you are since you’re reading this blog — OR you’re my mother!) you’re probably aware that until 2014, the South African women’s team didn’t have too many opportunities to play against the top nations (or didn’t have an opportunity to play much at all outside World Cups). It wasn’t until the introduction of the ICC Women’s ODI Championship that they began to play regularly. So, of course, it wasn’t until 2014 that I started to really pay attention to them.
Why 2014, you ask? Well, because they toured India for the first time, and yours truly was picked in the India A squad to play against them in the tour game before the Test match. So, true to character, I absolutely positively had to do my share of research which essentially meant obsessing over every player in their squad and making sure I knew everything I could about them!
While the game didn’t happen (visa issues or some such), it was, in many ways the beginning of a relationship (for those Ae Dil Hai Mushkil fans, “ek tarfa pyar”) that would keep me together in the years to come.
In 2014, South Africa did something that I had not seen before — they were the first non-Australian team to canter to victory against India in India as if was no big deal. I sat in the Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore watching stunned as Chloe Tryon climbed into Shubhlakshmi Sharma in the 50th over of the 2nd ODI. She pummeled her past long on, over mid wicket, and deposited her into the stands over long off. It was breathtaking. It was scary. It was, in many ways, downright unbelievable.
For one, I had never seen Shubh treated like that. She was one of the premier pacers in India — someone who, at her best, could bowl a searing yorker and had an exceptional cutter up her sleeve. She had the skills to be an excellent death bowler, but was being treated like she was bowling pies. Two, I had never before seen a woman hit with such ferocity; not in the space of an over; not an onslaught that would reduce the bowler to tears, crush her confidence, and make her question the very meaning of life.
Tryon’s blitz saw South Africa reach a total of 186 — a target that India chased down with relative ease thanks to Shikha Pandey's maiden ODI half century. But that day I caught a glimpse of what they could do, and I was hooked.
South Africa would go on to win the ODI series — a historic achievement — their first bilateral series win v India in India and all that. They did it without Shabnim Ismail — the speed demon that we had all been warned about. They did it after getting mauled in the Test match in Mysore. They did it just after what was an incredible run in the T20 World Cup. Their performances were proof that this was a team meant to be taken seriously — a team of supremely skilled cricketers who only needed more opportunities to show what they could do.
The celebrations after the third ODI were relatively muted (at least the ones we saw were)— warm hugs (as is the way with SA), excited high-fives, a few players jumping around, and some applause in the direction of the sparse crowd. The result should have felt like an upset, but in reality, it didn’t. India had been thoroughly outplayed. Mignon du Preez’s side had romped home. They were the better team in that series. There was no competition really… they were thoroughly clinical and had well and truly won me over.
South Africa would go on to win the ODI series — a historic achievement — their first bilateral series win v India in India and all that. They did it without Shabnim Ismail — the speed demon that we had all been warned about. They did it after getting mauled in the Test match in Mysore. They did it just after what was an incredible run in the T20 World Cup. Their performances were proof that this was a team meant to be taken seriously — a team of supremely skilled cricketers who only needed more opportunities to show what they could do.
The celebrations after the third ODI were relatively muted (at least the ones we saw were)— warm hugs (as is the way with SA), excited high-fives, a few players jumping around, and some applause in the direction of the sparse crowd. The result should have felt like an upset, but in reality, it didn’t. India had been thoroughly outplayed. Mignon du Preez’s side had romped home. They were the better team in that series. There was no competition really… they were thoroughly clinical and had well and truly won me over.
Over the next few years, as I learnt more about each of their players, the obsession grew. It began with du Preez, extended to Ismail (#TeamPacer, of course) and Dane van Niekerk (oh, those wrists) and reached a crescendo with Marizanne Kapp (#TheRealWanda)… And then when the Lees, Khakas, Wolvaardts and Luus’ came along, there was really no turning back. I celebrated their wins as my own. I had all their names tattooed on my forehead — not literally, of course, but you know what I mean! South Africa were my team. Nothing or no one could change that — except maybe, a blue jersey!
Inspired by those women, I tried to crank up the pace (and failed) like Ismail. I dropped and ran and moved around my crease like MdP, practised “breaking my wrists” when hitting through cover like DvN, and celebrated with the ferocity of MK (because, seriously, that’s the only thing I could dream of doing like her)… Cricket was fun because of them… they made me want to be better. They made me want to try new things. They showed me that the “little guys” could consistently punch above their weight too — with the fight of DvN, the fire of Kapp & Ismail and the heart of MdP, it was all possible.
But in 2017, it all came crashing down…
As my dreams began to slowly but steadily dissipate around me, and the reality of my career started to dawn on me, I desperately clung on to the few things that made me feel centered, still somewhat in control.
I felt betrayed by cricket, the people in it, and by my own ambition. None of this was supposed to happen. I had gotten so close to what I wanted, but then saw it slip through the cracks as my mind gave in. I hated where I was when I should have been on the top of the world. Cricket, and the field was the last place I wanted to be… but work didn’t allow that. And so, within that darkness, I held on tight to South Africa — my little candle to fight off the demons in the dark.
Luckily for me, the start of the year had a lot of them — the World Cup qualifiers, the Quadrangular series involving India, Ireland, and Zimbabwe and the World Cup in the middle of the year.
I lived that tournament with them. Pumped my firsts and jumped for joy when they snuck past Pakistan in that first game, watched in disbelief as they annihilated West Indies, felt my heart sink when Tammy Beaumont and Sarah Taylor put them to the sword, and curled up into a ball and cried when they crashed out in that semi-final. That tournament was in many ways, the start of the dominance of their golden generation, and it was when that "ek tarfah pyaar” grew stronger — #ForCaptainKerk & MdP.
My highs and lows in the years to follow somewhat mirrored theirs too. From MdP’s incredible knock in the ODI series against India that gave me a second wind, to the disastrous 2018 T20 World Cup campaign when I was mentally at my lowest, to the revival that came in 2019-20 — a time when I finally learnt to detach, “let go” (a little like Elsa) and trust myself on the field. Their performances (and in many ways, their lives) fueled mine as well.
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More than three years have passed since I last played a game; close to two since I ‘officially’ retired, and while I’ve used the time to come to terms with my broken dreams, and search for new purpose, it is the South African team and its players that have helped me hold on when I’ve least wanted to. When I tore down the posters and the quotes in my room, and repainted the walls dark purple (from blue), it was watching them that kept me sane.
Let me be honest, it’s not easy covering Indian cricket as an “almost, but not quite” when you haven’t had time to process or grieve your own shortcomings. Every day, felt like a personal attack — like my failures were being examined under the spotlight… My mind kept shouting, “Those who can't do, teach; and those who can't even teach, write!”
It was around then — when it felt like there was no respite, from my mind, from Covid, from all of it, really — that I decided it was time for a break. Emboldened by South Africa’s prolific run of form through 2021, I finally decided to put myself first and walked away from work.
Once again, when I thought I’d have nowhere to go, South Africa came to my rescue — the people and, unbeknownst to them, the players. Gsport and Kass Naidoo allowed me to look at the team through a global lens — to write about a group of players who were dominating the world. Those opportunities, to focus on a team that had for so long been my favourite somewhat freed me up, but more than anything, the opportunity to put India on the back burner and allow myself time and space to heal was exactly what I needed.
As I watched the 2022 ODI World Cup, wrote about the players, interacted with them through press conferences and interviews, I found joy again… I was invested in the team and it’s performances as more than just a fan — it was my work too, and boy was I learning to to enjoy it. Watching Laura Wolvaardt stroke her way to the top (briefly) of the run charts and then listening to her call herself “dumb” in a press conference, seeing Marizanne Kapp consistently snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and deflect all or any praise to her teammates, cheering on Ismail, Khaka and Klaas — important cogs in the best pace attack in the world — as they ripped through batting line ups, and seeing my hero, Mignon, struggle through the start of the tournament, but continue to bring energy and enthusiasm in the field before she shattered a billion hearts, somehow, made the load on my shoulders lighter… Things no longer felt so dark or dreary. There was an enjoyment in all of it… slowly, it all came back… slowly I found that old cricket fanatic again… slowly that little candle that I was so desperately hanging on to, South Africa, guided me to the light at the end of the tunnel…
Embed from Getty Images***
My admiration for Mignon du Preez and Marizanne Kapp is no secret… I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever tried to hide it!
Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that I was recently told that I should grow out of my hero worshiping. That I should no longer openly claim to be in awe of these women. That I should now be beyond all that. More “mature”, professional, even. I mean, which self-respecting 30-something-year-old makes posters, and t-shirts, coins hashtags or changes flights for anyone? (Dear God, I hope one of you is thinking of yourself)!
My answer to that — I don’t think I’d ever be able to tone down that part of me. As a journalist, I understand the need to be objective, to bring balance to my work, to see the facts. As a journalist, I will continue to try and do that — see both sides of the coin when I must. But as a person, I will, first and foremost, always be a fan. A South African women’s cricket fan. These women saved me from a darkness I never thought would end. They kept me sane. They kept me going. (One foot in front of the other, #AlwaysRising, anyone?) So, why wouldn’t I celebrate them at every opportunity? Why wouldn’t I want to remind them and the world of their awesomeness? I am, in many ways, here because of them. I stayed in this sport because of them. I am beginning to find a new purpose because of them…
South Africa saved me — the cricketers, the people, the place (I’m looking at you, #DreamTeam)… I found it all again: my passion, purpose, and a quality I used to think was my greatest strength — perseverance… It’s fighting it’s way to the surface again.
I’ve accepted my fate as an “almost, but not quite”. I’m learning to find my space in the ecosystem. While i’m not yet sure where that is, I know some day (hopefully soon), I will find it. For now, I know I have the skills to flit in and out of different spaces in order to figure out where I fit.
After all, a wise person once told me, “… Have faith that it will all work out…”
That’s it — THAT’S what South Africa helped me find… My faith… In me…
#StrongerTogether
My answer to that — I don’t think I’d ever be able to tone down that part of me. As a journalist, I understand the need to be objective, to bring balance to my work, to see the facts. As a journalist, I will continue to try and do that — see both sides of the coin when I must. But as a person, I will, first and foremost, always be a fan. A South African women’s cricket fan. These women saved me from a darkness I never thought would end. They kept me sane. They kept me going. (One foot in front of the other, #AlwaysRising, anyone?) So, why wouldn’t I celebrate them at every opportunity? Why wouldn’t I want to remind them and the world of their awesomeness? I am, in many ways, here because of them. I stayed in this sport because of them. I am beginning to find a new purpose because of them…
South Africa saved me — the cricketers, the people, the place (I’m looking at you, #DreamTeam)… I found it all again: my passion, purpose, and a quality I used to think was my greatest strength — perseverance… It’s fighting it’s way to the surface again.
I’ve accepted my fate as an “almost, but not quite”. I’m learning to find my space in the ecosystem. While i’m not yet sure where that is, I know some day (hopefully soon), I will find it. For now, I know I have the skills to flit in and out of different spaces in order to figure out where I fit.
After all, a wise person once told me, “… Have faith that it will all work out…”
That’s it — THAT’S what South Africa helped me find… My faith… In me…
#StrongerTogether
Just listened to the your podcast with Jarrod Kimber. I doubt if I will ever forget that conversation. What a poignant, beautiful and inspiring story. The fact that you found life and light in a far away cricket team is magical. But I don't think it is random.
ReplyDeletePutting so much of yourself out there for people to see is humble and courageous in equal measure. I thank you for writing this. I am going to keep coming back to this.
- Your newest fan.