Spill your guts!
IT SEEMS to be becoming a pattern – rugby players spilling their guts in magazines about their anti-social behaviour – sex, drugs and rock 'n roll.
The latest is Springbok and Bulls loose forward Pedrie Wannenberg, who admits in an interview with the magazine Finesse that he has taken cocaine and ecstasy and often drunk himself into a stupor.
His rugby union apparently take a dim view of it but are taking no disciplinary action.
But what action could they take? Taking cocaine and ecstasy is no doubt a deplorable habit and illegal. But they are not performance-enhancing drugs.
As for liquor – some of the more memorable booze-ups are in rugby clubs. Beer and the game of rugby are inseparable. If Wannenberg overdoes it, well that's what he does.
The Wannenberg revelations follow the Joost van der Westhuizen affair, which had the added frisson of a floozie.
In my rugby-playing days we used to sing a song called Do You Know the Muffin Man? which involved rhythmic knee-bends while balancing a pint of beer on your head. We would then repair to a place in the market square (this was Pietermaritzburg) called Twiggy's Pie Cart, where we would make a lot of noise until the early hours of the morning.
I wonder if Finesse magazine would be interested in writing about my shameful past?
The gods of cricket
THE FINAL cricket Test starts at the Wanderers today. Reader David Walker, of Ballito, feels aggrieved at the outcome so far.
"England won comprehensively at Kingsmead," he says. "England were on the brink of comprehensive defeats at Centurion Park and Newlands.
"At Newlands the English camp showed their relief at avoiding a possible series defeat, laughing and hugging each other.
"I was devastated at such injustice. Morally I feel we are two to one up in the series yet we find ourselves actually one down.
"England wicketkeeper Prior says: 'We did not come here to draw.'
"I must say they put up monumental efforts to do just that at Centurion Park and Newlands. I hope the Proteas make it three to one at Wanderers."
Not three nail-biting draws to one win, I hope.
Be-e-e-e-a-a-a-astly business
CAN SOMEBODY explain this Tendai Mtawarira business?
Is it not the International Rugby Board that decides – through a clear set of regulations - who is entitled to play for which country?
Can it be true that South Africa has on its statute book a law that allows the government, or parliament, to decide who is eligible to play for the Springboks?
And if there is such a statute, is it not grossly unconstitutional? The Bill of Rights clearly entrenches the right to "free association". That surely means rugby unions and similar organisations being autonomous, running their own affairs.
Or am I just stoopid?
Today-speak
TUT, TUT! This newspaper yesterday carried an item describing a derelict house in Durban North as "a magnet for vagrants and vermin."
This is truly archaic language. In Today-speak, vagrants are "homeless people" (putting them in the same category as refugees from fire, flood and earthquake) and vermin are "problem animals" (putting them in the same category as stray cattle, foul-mouthed parrots and my hooligan Irish terrier).
We need to get this right.
Fighting fire
SOME firefighting anecdotes from Bill Bryson in his book, Bizarre World (Warner Books):
A man in California sued the Citrus Heights Fire Department after he had given them permission to come onto his property for some much-needed honing of their skills. According to the suit the firemen let their practice fIre get out of control and it burned the man's house down. Meanwhile, across the country in upstate New York, a woman watched her home go up in flames while two fire departments stood on the lawn bickering over which of them was going to tackle the blaze.
During a demonstration of airborne forest-fire control in Michigan, a pilot missed his burning target and instead dropped his planeload of fire-retarding liquid on the 150 onlookers.
Tailpiece
A TRAVELLER through Arizona stops off at a small town and goes into a bar where he orders a drink. He lights up a cigar and sits at the end of the bar, contemplatively blowing smoke rings.
At which an ethnic Indian marches angrily up him and says: "Listen, buddy, you stop calling me names or I'll smash your face in!"
Last word
Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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