Location: Elands Bay (north of the train tracks – if you get to Lamberts Bay you know you’ve gone too far)
Locals: A mishmash of Swartland potato farmers, salty sea dog surfers, and crayfish poachers on the run from the law.
Tackling the bar: No “Bakkie Botha cleanouts” required
1. Warm beds are available upstairs if post match celebrations push past the curfew
2. The patch of lawn out the back – you can ditch the family to get on with the weekly ritual of male bonding over a few cold ones and cussing the Aussie ref.
Beer Garden view
3. The ocean themed painted walls (with mermaids!) fits nicely with the super rugby franchise clocks.
4. Ample supply of Rooidop.
west coast vino
5. Dog friendly
1. You’ll miss the early morning surf
2. There’s too much Rooidop – and many strafdops
3. That random 40-something male and his best friend, the ridgeback.
4. Seating at the big screen is a rare commodity
5. No offers of illegally procured crays were forthcoming.
This is Number 1 in a new thread which BDR has launched.
Yes, if you must know, there was an exclusive launch party at Trinity nightclub with special guests; including the fembots found on the back page of the Sunday Times, and Varsity Club rugby starlets, with the recently pepper sprayed LochNVille on the decks.
The basic format of the thread is to review the unique watering holes dotted around the country, where rugby fans congregate at the altar every Saturday to receive their weekly communion of “But on the other hand Darren” and “Chester, Chester, Chester Williams goes over for his fourth try”
Let us dive into the first gem:
Name: The Sea View Sports Bar
Location: Gansbaai, down the one way
Tackling the Bar: No rucking to the front of the queue required to order beers
1. Ample supply of pool tables if the big game turns into a game of kicking chess
2. Personally tailored pool cue storage facilities
3. Wallet friendly beer prices
4. Eco friendly air-conditioning
1. Electrical wiring of the tv’s resembles the ‘off the grid system’ patented in South America
2. The abalone growing on the bar tables – it is perlemoen country after all!
3. Keep your friends close (and your engine running) if you rub the aforementioned stern locals the wrong way
4. There is no sea view?
Gok Wan Special Mention:
The super sized early 90’s rugby trump cards add a nice decor touch to soften the hard edge look created with the beer posters plastered everywhere.
During the on-field build up for the Lions & Stormers game between Joel Stransky and Pommie’s brother, there was a mention and camera shot of the William Webb Ellis Cup.
I was surprised they let that kind of hardware into Doornfontein on a Saturday evening – I was concerned for it’s safe passage from there down to New Zealand. I’m sure it must have been a replica.
Joel’s eyes light up too, in a scary Gollum kind of way too, “My preeecioussssssss…..” who can really blame him, imagine the feeling of nostalgia you’d have with the Cup at arm’s length at the venue of arguably South Africa’s greatest sporting moment, knowing you boxed the winning drop?
It also got me thinking on factoids on the much sought after Cup. Thanks to Wiki-Wiki I can now provide these and you’ll probably lose 2 minutes of your life (if you are a slow reader).
The Cup is named after the Anglican clergyman or that oke who supposedly invented the game out on a field somewhere in Rugby, Warwickshire, by picking up and then running with the ball in his paws.
Not so! Wiki’s reliable sources has it down that the players, of what could be best be described as a primitive form of gaining grounds, were allowed to catch the pigs bladder – so that whole spiel about Bill causing a ruckus by picking up the ball is cods wallop.
The burning issue was with him going on a Va’aiga Tuigamala-esque run toward s the opposition in goal area which confused his Bigside opponent, and his cronies.
After this moment in the sun, or more likely grey blanket sky in the UK, Bill ended up living in France, and he never married,(has something to do with that clergyman job description I guess).
He is buried in a little town on the French Riviera, named Menton, la perle de la France (the Pearl of France). If you are ever out that way look it up – the IFR have renovated the grave. Not sure how impressed the missus would be that idea on your honey-moon though.
Some other useless facts: The cup is 38 cm in height, and is made of gilded silver.
Now here is the kicker.
The two supporting scrolls or handles, have something funky going on which I never knew.
On one there is the head of a Satyr – the Greek character which is half man, half goat, lover of woman and wine, seeker of every physical pleasure and on the other handle is a head of a Nymph, a young nubile female deity, who loves to dance and sing and do other things..,
Bloody fantastic! I wonder what the clergyman would think of this whole setup under his name!
The WWC is a relatively young Cup, commissioned in ’87 and handed over to Captain Kirk,leader of the first side to win the inaugural Rugby World Cup, not the USS Enterprise
But I’m hoping that quaint stories and tales will be added to the history of this Cup: perhaps starting this last weekend in Doornfontein where a police dog called Bliksem saved the day by sniffing out 1 times authentic 38cm gilded silver trophy hidden under a heap of old newspapers on a park bench somewhere in the Vaal Triangle.
BigDaddy was on the move this weekend during round 8 of super rugby.
The venue was the Sharks Supporters Club, Cape Town branch (SSC – CT Branch), which is tucked away on Palmyra road, Claremont, between the latest, greenest Woolworths store and a music box.
I knew my true colours would be unveiled at some during the day’s play – those colours being of the Streeptruie/Stormers, despite being groomed in the hilly suburb of Westville, Durban in my formative years.
The evening threads were neutral colours to avoid confrontation, a ploy used successfully in other hotbeds of sporting fanfare frenzies.
You can’t buy experience (Nass-ism)
I was invited to the “jol” by my friend Rich, who is an official member, so I reasoned that if the LZ went hot and the M-16’s started rocking, I’d have an emergency plan!
It is often claimed that Rich is the chameleon of the sporting world: jumping from ardent Bulls supporter when Johan Heunis retired, to a super fan of the then the old Transvaal – the Gavin “Magic” Johnson era, before finally settling on the Sharks.
But let’s get back to the focal point. Any rugby fan that has been to a game at Kings Park would have experienced the world famous post match car park braai en-masse and shin dig.
The SSC – CT Branch is a mini-me version of this, what it may lack in numbers and braai smoke, is more than made up with family orientated fun, the passion for the oval ball game, good natured spirit, and spirits consisting mostly of that dark German digestif.
The weekly attendance by the Queens of Boulevard also ensures that not only displaced Durbanites are present, but other minority groups too.
The setup is great:
a patch of lawn for the kids to run amok, a heavy duty braai facility to turn over an abattoir of meat, and a fully stocked bar, manned by a jovial and affable chap who best be described as real life version of Mr Incredible (no cape of course, that is Edna’s rule).
There is a telly outside, and a massive cinema sized screen inside. Plenty of seating is available – even more so during the curtain raiser between the Stormers and the Reds.
Gosh here’s the opportunity to throw in a few lines about the actual rugby matches. The Stormers were lacking penetration on Saturday.
However despite their loss the general consensus around the flames was the Stormers have impressed as they’ve won ugly whilst playing badly. However the overseas leg will be the true test.
Maybe Supersport should sign me up with those pearls?
I can’t really comment on the Sharks – Lions game as I attempted to view it through a haze of beer and Jagermeister.
Back to the SSC – CT branch.
It was fantastic, we were pirate sailor drunk, and there was even an impromptu karaoke mix going down at the end of the evening.
I’m glad that Rich’s wife saved us when she did, as the LZ was starting to resemble the Tet Offensive with the number of shots being fired up.
So in summation, if you’ve been ignoring Nigel at the office because of his Sharks branded screensaver, or that “Sharks Forever” coffee mug he religiously brings along to the monthly stat meeting…it’s time to change that approach.
He could potentially be the gate-keeper to a corker night out.
Go on then, give it a go!
Tumble weed during the Stormers - Reds curtain raiser
There was an article in the Cape Times by my favourite rugby scribe, Gavin Rich, a few weeks ago which made some pertinent points about the crazy amount of rugby being played these days
The basic message is that rugby is in danger of shooting itself in the foot with the latest extended addition of the Super 10 rugby….yes remember that, when the Super 15 previously 14 previously 12 was actually made up of 10 teams.
This super rugby concept is going to reduce fans appetite for the game. Results and highlights packages flash at us constantly, build up hype relies on the same formulaic headlines, there’s a standard template for coaches/captains to deliver at post match interviews, fans make the weekly approach to the stadiums in the same zombie like trance trudge
Of course it’s about the moolah, money talks shyte walks, change is the only constant, all that Laissez-Faire theory, but I’m a fan of the old concept, “less is more”.
The fans are their own worst enemy – especially in South Africa where rugby is a religion – even lapping up the pre-pre warm up game which now kicks off in January!!
At the rate we’re going the opening round of the Southern Hemisphere’s premier competition is going to be played on News Year Day, pushing aside my much beloved traditional News Year Day cricket test match.
Ok a MASSIVE exaggeration, but one does hear fans regularly complaining : “Gee it’s so early in the year to be playing rugby”. Still we tune in at kick off, only to justify the administrators decision to play more rugby, and line theirs and the advertisers pockets with golden nuggets (not the chicken , hard currency).
Isn’t this where the administrators and the sponsors and advertisers should come together and do the right thing for the game?
My dream is that there is a level headed executive out there who will have a “Jerry Maguire” moment, plucks the courage to show the 2-fingers to the Man, and walks out with gold-fish in bag and a plucky PA,
The right balance needs to be found to keep us entertained, and avoid viewership burn-out before the end of May! And it needs to be done Pronto.
Ok, this may not go down well, especially with the parents of tiny tots who are always trying to guide their youngsters towards the good role models and shield them from the undesireables.*
But I enjoyed the story that broke earlier this week about Danny Cipriani nicking a bottle of vodka at a nightclub after the Rebels crushing defeat to the Waratahs. Danny Boy appears to have bags of character…well, at least he won’t let a big loss get him down.
“Feck it yeah lads, so we’ve just had another one ripped out of us by the ‘Tahs, let’s have a night on the tiles then hey… Come on get involved, drinks are on me!”
Then a week later, he pops up with a last minute clutch penalty kick to give the Rebel Alliance their first ever win. You have to give the guy credit – here’s an Englishman taking on the Australian mantra of winning at the death, with off field antics to boot – in the Aussies’ own backyard. If he performs consistently, week in week out, on and off the pitch, he will surely win the affection of even those die hard English-hating Australians. More South African ex-pats who cluster in their ox wagon laagers in Oz should follow this gentleman’s example on what needs to be done if they want to win over the locals.
And I chuckled at the nightclub manager’s response : “I still haven’t heard boo from him.”
Back to Danny Boy.
This episode adds yet another chapter to what soon could be a released autobiography: dating Kelly Brook, tabloid claims of a roll in the hay with a she-man, and other rumors of him fraternizing with one of the Cheeky Girls. So the stories are fabricated and people probably doubt the authenticity of the claims – but Danny Boy has a glorious chance to kick on and etch his name into the history books.
Claim it Danny Boy, and start shifting the units off the book shelves.
(*not really an undesirerable on face value is he? I reckon most mothers would have their panties down faster than on Father’s Day to enjoy close combat with him…)