So… it’s about that time of the year when summer kicks in South Africa. And this year things are looking good. Juju is on his way out, our neighbourhood dictator Mugabe is on his last legs and Gary Kirsten is coaching the Proteas. All signs point to a summer of love…
The smell of freshly cut grass, cheap sun-screen and the opportunity to haul out some old moldy cricket gear to so if it is possible that somehow you magically acquired the ability to become a vicious pace bowler over the winter while you were chinning pints at the Local.
Of course, all of this means that it is 7s rugby time too. And this year, the carnival moves away from the Garden Route and rolls into Port Elizabeth.
Hell.. I’d love to be there this weekend. Booze, good weather and a decent stadium that doesn’t look like it was made a mad Stalinist dictator during the concrete revival era of architecture. Nope, instead the PE locals will be savoring beer and good rugby, while turning a brighter shade of pink. As for me… I’ll be in airports queues.
When watching 7s do you ever the idea that these guys would absolutely smoke a Super 15 rugby team given half the chance? The average Super 15 rugby player is so unfit from having been overplayed on top of still feeling the effects of the big night out throwing dwarves and harassing local waitresses they just wouldn’t be able to hold a flame to 7s team.
Cecil Afrika, Branco du Preez… hell… I’d take these guys in the bok squad any day over the over-the-hill out of shape fatties that pass for Springboks.
Enjoy the rugby ladies and gents. It only rolls around once a year.