Olympic Moments

Last night my daughter and I cheered loudly for Oscar Pistorius. We knew that he didn’t stand a chance of doing well enough but we were proud of him. His bravery, determination and perseverance are inspirational and his fellow-runners as well as the crowd certainly acknowledged that.

I have been enjoying the proudly South African moments brought on by our performance in the Olympics in the past week. I last felt like this two years ago when we were in the grips of soccer fever. We all need the positive model of hard work and dedication which has been provided in bucket loads, not only by our swimmers and rowing team, but from all who have succeeded in representing their country at this gathering.

Cameron van der Burgh got us off to a good start with our first gold medal since the 2004 Olympics. The rowers paced themselves and gave it their all with a final push to surge into history. And then young Chad le Clos...what can I say?

I got all choked up as I watched his bottom lip quiver and his eyes fill with tears as he stood on the medal podium. And who was not moved by the image of his father mopping his face with the South African flag which he then covered his head and face with. Every parent must have an inkling of what he was feeling then. I wonder what it must feel like to be so young and then to beat your idol – where do you go from here?

Our lone medal winner from the last Olympics, Khotso Mokoena, failed to make it anywhere near the top three this time, but hey, he is still up there with the best in the world.

Caster Semenya’s parents are braving an airplane journey for the first time in their lives to watch their daughter represent her country. I’m looking forward to that. 

Part of the Group

A little while ago I chatted to one of the hockey mums who commented that she did not see me at the matches. My son has been telling me that I didn’t need to come and watch. So off I went a few weeks ago and to my surprise, found a little supporters group of parents who have been valiantly cheering them on all season. (Kind of like the feeling at varsity when everyone assures you that they are not studying and you find them all in the library!).

 It was freezing cold at 800 yesterday morning, watching the last under-14 hockey match of the season, huddled up with other parents on a stand which the sun failed to reach. It was a good game and the opponents were evenly matched.

It felt good to be part of the group as I find that in high school one seems to lose the contact with other parents. I seem to only fetch and drop. It was the same with my daughter, perhaps more difficult since she went to a different high school and he has stayed with the same group of boys from his Prep school.

I am not sure if this is part of his separation from my protective wing, which started with not being kissed goodbye in the mornings, way back in grade 4 or 5. He did the same with the Eisteddfod last term. He was playing his clarinet, and also told me it was not necessary for me to come. I was very glad that I did decide to go and witnessed the atmosphere at the school.  Since he came back from Sweden, I have felt the independence.

Once again I marvel at how differently boys and girls seem to grow up. My daughter has no qualms about kissing me in a busy mall, outside the movies or wherever it is I am dropping her. I hear that it is part of becoming a man and then they come closer again. I guess he is going to have to get used to having me around for another little while longer! I am not quite ready for this empty nest!

War minus the shooting

George Orwell said that "Serious sport is war minus the shooting." I couldn't help thinking that, in some instances, the soccer World Cup was like a war of the world - there were the different countries competing against each other, the rallying of supporters, the "war-paint", the battle-cries and the "uniforms".

The soccer World Cup mobilises the largest number of people in the world. Apart from the more than 3 million who packed into the fan parks and stadiums, there was about a billion more watching on television or listening to the commentary on radio. Certainly, it celebrates national identity - never before have so many people in this country waved the flag in a celebration of national pride.

During apartheid even the sport was divided and soccer, which was seen as largely a Black person's game, suffered from the isolation and lost opportunities to play on an international level. Now we have experienced first-hand how unifying and mobilising the game can be. Unifying and mobilising across the artificial borders of class, race, religion, age and sex.

Imagine if this gathering together from all corners of the world, could satisfy the need for war. We would have referees to ensure fair play. The spectators would be there to bear witness to what had been done in their name. Everyone would celebrate the victors and leave satisfied that they had done their best, until next time. I can dream, can't I?