I'VE spent the last couple of days in beautiful Cape Town and, while internet access might have been tough to come by (as it often has been in South Africa), great sights and interesting places haven’t been so scarce.
We caught a brief glimpse of the spectacular Table Mountain upon arriving but we quickly choofed off to a small community on our first day here to catch the contingent of Magpies in town for their Telstra AFL Community Camp before they jetted off to watch their teammates.
I’ve since heard they got pumped and many were suffering a nasty case of gastro. I know how that feels.
The AFL Indigenous Youth Team made it three from three in impressive style against the South African Buffaloes on Saturday.
Before the game, as way of advertising the big clash at the township’s local oval, our touring party drove through the village while our police escort announced what was going on later in the day.
The startled faces that looked up at mine in our bus were unsure at first, but there wasn’t one person who I waved to that didn’t reply in kind – along with a big smile.
The crowd at the match perhaps wasn’t as large as either of the teams’ first two games, but they again seemed to love the contest. And yes, there was always the odd dance contest during breaks to keep those who weren’t enthralled, well, enthralled.
Sunday was the highlight of my Cape Town visit. We climbed Table Mountain and then took the ferry out to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was held for 18 of his 27 years in prison.
One can simply get the cable car up and down the mountain, which some did, but when you’re only 29 yourself and travelling with a fit, young bunch of footballers this isn’t really an option.
I decided to take the bull by the horns, and after 10 steps was cursing myself. A thousand steps later you can imagine what sort of mental punishment I was dishing out. I was throwing every psychological barb I had at myself.
However, not wanting to be called a sissy-sissy weakling, I pushed on, Chariots of Fire and Rocky themes blaring in my head at the same time (which made for an interesting tune) as I bounded off the top step.
That didn’t leave a lot in the tank for Robben Island, but if Nelson Mandela did what he did, I thought I could muster the energy. And I’m sure glad I did.
Taking the 40-minute boat ride out to the island was eerie, and to be at the place of such toil and hardship for so many was both humbling and inspiring.
We have visited Soweto, the Apartheid Museum and Mandela’s house earlier in the trip, so to see where he spent so much of his incarceration helped finish the chapter. I had studied Apartheid at school, but this trip has renewed my fascination.
Mandela’s The Long Walk to Freedom is definitely on my must-read list now.
Well, we’ve come to the end. On Monday, after a spot of market shopping, we fly back to Jo’burg and then we’re en-route to Oz.
It will have been 16 days since we left Australia, and we have seen so much in that time.
I can tell you this. South Africa is a pretty cool joint. If you have the opportunity to do so, check it out one day.
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February 6, 2008
I HAVEN’T been feeling my best the past couple of days. In fact, I spent much of yesterday staying as close as possible to my hotel room toilet, clutching my stomach and moaning, ‘There’s no place like home’.
Life on the road? It’s all glamour, I tell you.
Still, the show must go on, and after the success of yesterday’s second Indigenous youth match, both sides headed for the intriguingly-named Valley of a Thousand Hills today, where they spent the night with a Zulu village in kwaNyuswa.
The scenery, just out of Durban, was breathtaking. Not as severe, perhaps, as even the alps we have back home, but spectacular and – as the name would suggest – seemingly endless.
The locals welcomed us warmly and were eager to show us around their community.
We split into three groups. Feeling the distance from my hotel room, I joined the group with the doctor.
At a nearby orphanage, we enjoyed some time with some underprivileged kids.
One of the children here received some form of sponsorship, I discovered. I asked what that meant for her. She gets to attend a better school, I learned, and perhaps university further down the track.
Just down the road, we popped in on a ‘Sangoma’ – a local witch doctor. There is only one Sangoma in the village – their training taking seven years to complete, about the same as our own GPs.
I was all for keeping quiet, but my caring colleagues pushed me forward and asked about remedies for my condition. The Sangoma suggested inserting some kind of a local shrub in the designated area. Unsure whether this was a hilarious local joke reserved for foreigners, I politely declined.
In the afternoon, the Connections Choir treated us to some wonderful African sounds, followed – as you do – by a spot of breakdancing from a crew of local teenagers. A couple of our shyer young Indigenous players were coaxed into joining in.
Spilling out of the concert hall, a media friend and I left the village for the comfort (by which I largely mean the shiny porcelain bathroom fittings) of our hotel in Durban.
What did we miss out on? The rest of the group enjoyed the dubious privilege of a roast chicken dinner – after killing the chicken themselves. They then settled down for a good night’s sleep – on a mat on the floor.
For tonight, at least (until the medicinal equivalent of the witch doctor’s shrub kicks in), I’ll take my comfy hotel room, thanks.
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February 5, 2008
AFTER departing Hluhluwe National Park, where we had been on the lookout for wild game, today we experienced what it was like to have all eyes on us.
The four-hour bus ride to Durban went quickly enough and after checking into our hotel with the AFL Indigenous and South African Youth Teams, we headed for kwaMashu – one of Durban’s poorer townships some 15km from the beachside city.
Each team was headed there to train before playing their second match of the tour at the same venue as today’s session.
As the AFL teams had done earlier on tour, these younger sides also drew a crowd, with locals stopping to stare at the big touring bus passing through their home streets.
Maybe the police escort we received from the outskirts of kwaMashu to our final destination – a small, make-do oval bordering the majority of the town’s housing district – added to the intrigue.
After seeing that we required a police escort I wondered what kind of place we were headed for and whether or not I should quickly call my loved ones back home.
But when we stepped out of the bus dozens of excited small children greeted us and that number grew as word got out of where we had pulled up.
FootyWild is up and running here, with AFL South Africa staff in conjunction with the West Coast Eagles promoting the code throughout Durban and the surrounding region.
They must be doing a pretty good job too. Groups of small kids, ever-eager to pose for the camera (especially if you can show them their image afterwards!), clustered together and yelled exuberantly.
At first I couldn’t make out what they were yelling but then their chorus became clear: “Foo-ty Wild, Foo-ty Wild!”
Members of the AFL’s Indigenous Youth program taught some youngsters more of the basics of the game, before we headed off on foot in separate groups for a lengthy tour of kwaMashu.
“Gumula!” (white person) we would hear the locals’ shout on turning a corner. Out here, it was as though spotting us was like seeing the lion that we missed out on at Hluhluwe.
Word also seemed to have got around about tomorrow’s match down at the local oval.
As we wandered through the streets, stunned into silence at the sobering sights, some of the locals mentioned the match.
I think there’ll be a pretty good turn out. Some might come to see the odd “gumula” and some for the change in routine to what often must be a mundane life.
But also, after seeing the enthusiastic approach of the young South African kids in action today, some will come for the match itself.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------February 4, 2008
WHEN most people think of Africa, they think safari and wild animals.
Despite not yet seeing a lion during our stay at Hluhluwe National Park, I haven’t been disappointed by my first-ever game park experience. It's been exhilarating, breathtaking and, on a couple of occasions, damn scary!
Once or twice on our trip around the majestic Hluhluwe, I felt like a couple of those full-backs in the 1990s when they used to drop back into the hole - vulnerable, exposed and at the mercy of a goliath that had the capacity to destroy anything in its path.
On our sunset drive two nights ago, we’d seen the buffalo, zebra, baboons, and so on … all fantastic, but we were now hunting the bigger stuff.
We observed some white rhino from afar before two crossed right in front of our 12-man safari jeep. Then, I noticed some rumbling in the scrub and a mate of theirs appeared just a couple of metres behind us ... it was so close we could hear it breathing.
That shook us up a bit, but we could see as he trotted past our vehicle that all he really wanted to do was catch up to his buddies.
However, it was what happened over the next rise that had me checking the number of pairs of clean underpants I had with me.
We were still reviewing our snaps of the rhinos when a five-tonne bull elephant plonked himself in front of the car – and he was obviously peeved at something. Perhaps it was the red t-shirt I was wearing?
No, he probably just recognised our safari guide. Over the course of the next few minutes, Phaki – our guide – proceeded to roll forward, almost onto the big guy’s toes – until he’d get all stirred up. Then Phaki would turn on the engine and reverse out of there.
Sheesh! Talk about gutsy.
He told us that he does that sort of thing all the time, and how one day he had to reverse 2km backwards as an elephant chased the car.
Well, it sure did get our hearts racing, but to be up so close to such a magnificent creature was something I’ll never forget.
Today, we travelled to St Lucia where we enjoyed a river cruise while spotting crocodiles and hippos, before returning to Hluhluwe for another night.
It was ostrich for dinner (very tender and quite tasty), before one last chance at seeing a lion tomorrow.
But even if we do, I’m not sure if anything will top coming face-to-face with an enraged bull elephant.
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February 3, 2008
What better way to see how an AFL club prepared for a match – albeit an exhibition game in South Africa – than to be among the players?
Jumping aboard the bus I must admit it was a little intimidating.
In hindsight I suppose I was quite brave. I was the only journo going for the ride to the nearby high-tech training facility, but instead of grabbing the first seat I saw down front, I decided to make my way up the aisle towards the back of the bus.
After all, I was once told at school that only the nerds sat at the front of the bus.
“New recruit guys,” I said nervously as I found a seat beside Heath Scotland.
The players were more sedate than I thought they might be, perhaps already in game-day mode despite the match being some nine hours off.
Some had earphones in, listening to their iPods. Were they already firing up, or blocking out their teammates after being on the road for more than a week? Maybe the match would tell.
When we arrived at our destination, the players split into two distinct groups – those playing against Fremantle and the rest – the likes of Chris Judd, Brad Fisher and Richard Hadley to name a few.
Those playing walked laps of the ovals and went through some light stretching, while the others – who had been put through a more rigorous training session the previous night – did some weights indoors.
One player, 19-year-old Clinton Benjamin, sat outside somewhat forlornly as he watched his teammates go through their paces.
The second-year Blue, who was in contention to get a run against Freo, injured his groin at training on Friday night, setting his pre-season back a couple of pegs.
He’s unsure of the severity yet, but it was the last thing the smooth mover needed on the eve of the season. Especially after Blues officials have been so impressed by the youngster’s athletic attributes this summer.
While waiting for the entire group to finish up, the majority of players wandered across to a nearby oval to watch some local cricketers, who no doubt appreciated the enthusiastic bunch on the hill.
One player, by some fluke of nature, even had a whistle in hand. With the chorus of clapping following his lead, the Blues were able to give the bowler an extra spring as he bounded in.
Whistle, whistle, clap, clap. Whistle, whistle, clap, clap. Faster and faster. The Blues were gunning for a wicket as if they were watching Brett Lee storm in for the final ball of the day at the MCG, rather than some native African they’d never before laid eyes on in Hatfield, Pretoria.
They left disappointed, the batsmen holding firm under what must have been more pressure than they were accustomed to on their typical Saturday at the crease.
But I wasn’t disappointed with my morning. There are worse things to do than seeing first-hand how an AFL cub prepares on game day.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------February 2, 2008
A THUNDERSTORM in the middle of Soweto – yup, this is Africa!
Okay, so I was quite snugly tucked away in what I’m sure was one of Soweto’s finest restaurants, but as a dose of African atmosphere, this was one I wasn’t about to forget.
The day had been a long one and we hadn’t spent much of it with either of the two AFL clubs located nearby – only briefly crossing paths with Freo at the Apartheid Museum in the morning. But dinner at Nambitha (that’s zulu for ‘nice’) topped off another ripper day.
Carlton players enjoyed a day off in Johannesburg, and I believe both clubs had a light run at SuperSport Park in preparation for tomorrow night’s exhibition clash.
Meanwhile, today we media types hung out with the Indigenous Youth Team, which had arrived in South Africa a couple of days earlier.
Our day was primarily spent re-tracing this country’s remarkable – and at times shocking – history.
It’s great that South Africa, and places like Soweto, are in much better shape than they were 20 years ago. But it is odd that one can see a modern shopping mall on one side of the road and on the other, a shanty town where residents are clearly struggling to make ends meet.
However, the thing I’ll remember most from Friday, and indeed this entire trip, is the smiling young faces I’ve seen along the way – despite whatever conditions the people might live in.
Today, at Soweto Cricket Oval, a highlight was the impromptu ‘clinic’ AFL officials and the small media contingent gave to a few local kids who gathered to watch the Indigenous team train after our lunch break.
We had noticed a dozen or so kids aged from roughly 10 to 15 watching from the sidelines. You could tell they were itching to touch the Sherrin sitting tantalisingly close to the boundary, and eventually one plucky young boy did wander out to grab the odd-shaped red ball.
Before long, a few of us were out on the edge of the ground, showing some youngsters how to handball and kick.
The South Africans’ natural aptitude for the game is obvious.
Teach them something once or twice, and 5-10 minutes later they seem to have it nailed.
While we’ve come here for the Carlton-Fremantle clash tomorrow night, the curtain-raiser between our Indigenous boys and the South African under-19 side promises to be just as entertaining.
I’m looking forward to footy being back!
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February 1, 2008
I WAS an interested observer at the Blues' brekky this morning. We’ve all heard much of the ‘Judd effect’ and the result it’s had on the team’s eating habits, however the bacon and eggs did seem awfully popular at the Garden Court’s buffet on Thursday.
Maybe that’s because an early weights and stretching session had already been completed, with the rest of the day set aside for the club’s AFL Community Camp activities.
Carlton’s players all seemed genuinely affected by what they saw during the day, especially at the Sparrow Rainbow Village for AIDS sufferers. Well, how could one not be?
Talk about the lucky country. Australia sure is that. I found myself continually looking at a little boy, Bongani.
He’s three, shortly to turn four, and most likely has a thing for the movie Cars, given he was wearing a Lightning McQueen top.
I recognised the character because my four-year-old nephew loves that movie, and I’ve bought him my share of Lightning McQueen merchandise in recent years.
The main difference between Tommy, my nephew, and Bongani, is this small South African child has AIDS.
He was born with it, didn’t have a choice. Not fair, is it?
Later in the day – after the Blues lit up a few faces at a FootyWild clinic in the hardened suburb of Alexandra – I caught a ride back to the hotel with the team.
I sat beside Adam Bentick, who has shed a few kilos over the summer and seems primed to fight for his place in the 22, knowing he will face more competition in 2008.
Shaun Hampson and Jordan Bannister duelled one another in a round of golf on separate PlayStation 2 consoles on the bus trip back.
Apparently the game systems are quite a hit while the team travels, with poker among the most popular pastimes.
Bentick also showed me an impressive card trick.
Although no-one could argue that in the previous 24 hours, Magpie Anthony Rocca had performed the coolest card trick of all.
The big forward hit the jackpot at Sun City Casino when he caught three consecutive seven of diamonds at the blackjack table, picking up more than 1 million rand, or more than $150,000 in the process.
I'll be telling Pebs that it's his shout when I catch up with him and about a dozen of his teammates at the Pies’ community camp in Cape Town later in the trip.
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January 31, 2008
The chef and waiters must have seen my arms and mistaken me for Chris Tarrant - easy to do, I get that a lot.
Anyway, I was having none of that nonsense and quickly thanked them for their concern but hurried back towards my bacon.
I had a streak to maintain.
I departed Potch shortly after breakfast although Fremantle stuck around for the day.
In the morning Fremantle’s coaches conducted a mini draft camp for some of the region’s emerging stars while the players relaxed with a hit of golf or went for a wander – no doubt with security guards close by.
Later in the day, players conducted another Footy Wild clinic for school kids before finishing the day with a training session at the ASB Potchefstroom Military Town – the venue Collingwood had trained just two days earlier.
The drive to the South African capital Pretoria was uneventful enough, although the speed limit of 120kph did make it a little more interesting at times.
After checking into our hotel (rather more luxurious than the one in Potch) I headed to SuperSport Park to watch Carlton train.
It was hot.
Despite the searing African sun, the Blues ran solidly for a couple of hours.
All the Blues’ assistants played a significant role in training with Mark ‘Bomber’ Riley especially relishing his work with the young Carlton kids.
Matthew Kreuzer perhaps looked a little taller again, Andrew Carazzo was in great nick, however, Cain Ackland, who is continuing his rehab from shoulder surgery, didn’t partake in much of the ball work.
A couple of players made their way past the media contingent throughout the two-hour session but only one stopped to chat to us .
That player was Chris Judd.
It was interesting that, after our brief conversation, a silence seemed to descend on the media group for 10 or 20 seconds.
He had only stopped to say ‘gday boys’ and briefly chew the fat about South Africa and our experiences.
Little did Juddy know, he had just added to ours. I guess even us footy journos can be a little awestruck from time to time.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------January 30, 2008
WHILE the Pies are out at Rancho Relaxo (okay, that’s not actually its name) just out of Potchefstroom, the men in purple have checked into our hotel and I was geared up for a big day as Fremantle kicked off its community camp.
I was curious to see the Freo boys up close. They’d brought a predominantly younger squad across to South Africa, and I wanted to find out how they’re shaping up for 2008.
And seeing them interact and mingle after their first day in camp, they seem a remarkably relaxed and pretty close-knit bunch. I think Mark Harvey has made that a priority from the get-go.
Despite quite a few changes among the coaching panel – which is one of the youngest in the competition – there certainly doesn’t appear to be any sign of nerves or unease about what might lie ahead. Although it is only late January, I suppose.
The players rounded off their first day of community work with a training session at a nearby university, which surely worked up an appetite.
Speaking of which, it’s interesting that Fremantle has decided to bring its own dietitian and set up its own buffet table in the hotel restaurant, from which players must eat.
Their spread offers meats and other foods apparently considered healthier than those offered in the hotel’s regular buffet, which has been enjoyed by a procession of world-class athletes staying at the hotel, and which Collingwood used during its week-long stay.
Perhaps that’s why the squad appear – and from all reports are – in such good shape. Maybe nothing is going to be left to chance this year at Freo?
The young faces, as well as the more-seasoned campaigners such as Matthew Carr, Jeff Farmer, Paul Hasleby and Des Headland all looked fit and well.
And Chris Tarrant – the former Magpie whose old club was just 20 minutes away, enjoying some rafting and no doubt engaging in various forms of gruelling exercise – also looks in good nick.
That reminds me … no standing next to the big forward in the brekky queue tomorrow.
I don’t want my flabby guns, carefully carrying my bacon and eggs back to my table, curling up in terror when they see Taz’s ripped bazookas pouring soy milk over his wholegrain cornflakes.
