Converted to try

In my profile, I describe myself as someone whose blood is Lebanese. I’d like to retract that statement. For someone who hasn’t been interested in rugby since my varsity days when it was still within reach to date one of those strong, fit boys (back in the day when they had better hairdos – jammer Jannie!), I sure showed some South African blood yesterday.

After spending two years competing with rugby for ex man’s attention every Friday evening and Saturday afternoon, I developed a dislike for the game – although maybe this has more to do with preferring a walk on the beach over a dark, rowdy pub. But, sitting here in the peaceful, smoke-free village home, I found myself ditching my computer and joining Dad in front of the TV to cheer for the Bokke as they went on to beat the Wallabies in an epic 44-31 game that had Dad shouting at the screen, causing fat neighbour to pretend to check up on the garden.

Come to think of it, fat neighbour’s body shape isn’t very different from the likes of Guthro Steenkamp. We may just have a found a rugby player in the making. With his penchant for sitting on a seat, he’d make a great reserve.