PURE RUGBY - update

(This post was updated on 24th October - the final limerick verse was added. I didn't want to jinx the boys by posting it prior to our win - which was never in doubt - see the latest post - NICE TRY BUT IT WASN'T ONE!)

I was blown away, but not surprised, by our march through to the Rugby World Cup final on 20th October against England.
I truly believe that Argentina is a far better side than the performance against the Boks in the semi-final would have us believe. Had they engaged us like they did France in the opening game where they believed they could take us on in every facet of the game, the match might have played out differently. Don't get me wrong - I still believe the Boks would have prevailed but the Pumas' professional approach all through the tournament seemed to disintegrate in the semi-final almost as if they had resigned themselves to losing their line-out ball and hoping to keep us pinned back with tactical kicking. Had their kicking been on-song, we might have paid a heavy price for our own inept punting display but the touch-finders that did actually make it to the line, more often than not, were comfortably won by the Springboks on our own and the Pumas' throw.
We will need to step up a gear for the final clash and I have no doubt the Boks are more aware of that demand than anyone else on the planet right now.
The Springbok team psychologist (name escapes me right now) was featured on 702 during this week chatting to David O'Sullivan and he intimated that the players couldn't help but feeling isolated right now and starved of their home support and understandably so. Leaping into action immediately, an sms and email line were set up to receive the wellwishing of 702-landers, these to be forwarded and displayed at the Bok quarters in France. David O'Sullivan admitted to being staggered by the volume of the response and further amazed by the fact that there was not a single dissenting voice among the correspondence - a significant yardstick for the present sentiment in the country marred only by yet another victim of violent crime - the high-profile and well-loved reggae star, Lucky Dube who was tragically and horrifically gunned down in front of his young children in a suspected botched high-jacking in the south of Johannesburg on Thursday (last) night.
John Robbie, 702's morning show host, raised the question of whether listeners thought the Boks should wear black armbands as a mark of respect for the fallen musician and I, for one, believe that the gesture should be embraced - not just for Lucky Dube alone but for all victims of violent crime in our country and this sentiment should be stressed and broadcast to the populace especially the attending President Mbeki en-route to Paris to cheer the Boks on.
That said, I felt compelled to add my own literary contribution to the Springboks wellwishers' list and this little offering takes the inevitable form of a limerick as below:

AN ODE TO THE SPRINGBOKS

Up front CJ, Os and John Smit
Will be pumped from the very first hit
Every” “Touch, pause, engage!”
Will inspire them with rage
And the English front row will submit

With the Blou Bulle second row pair
It’s a combo that’s beyond compare
Yeah Botha and Matfield
From the Bull Ring in Hatfield
Are the kings of the ball in the air

Then there’s Burger and Smith and Rossouw
Our fetching and fighting back row
In the rucks and the mauls
These boys have the balls
Ensuring the next phase will flow

With a midfield of Butch, Jacque and Steyn
We’ll inflict on the Pommies much pain
With our whiplike attack
Jonny Wilko will crack
And his kicking will go down the drain

Then there’s Fourie du Preez as our scrummie
Who can kick, dart or sell one a dummy
He’s the world’s number one
At the base of the scrum
Or crossing the line on his tummy

Our left wing is someone called Bryan
Whose forte is low-level flying
His side step and ducking
Leaves opponents just kakking
And that’s when he’s not even trying

And to counter the intercept king
There’s JP on the opposite wing
He is young and inspired
And he never gets tired
Gives our backline its scorpion sting

And Monty our veteran fullback
With his highlights he cops all the flak
But his highlight for me
Is his consistency
And his calmness when under attack

Not forgetting our boys on the side
Still a wave in our green and gold tide
And the awesome Jake White
With his flair and insight
Win or lose - fills our nation with pride!

Now the battle is over and done
The English have turned tail and run
John Smit and his team
Have brought home a dream
Yes our brilliant young Springboks have won!

GO BOKKE – YOU’VE ALREADY MADE US PROUD – AND YOU'VE MADE HISTORY!

ADVERTISING? ARE YOU KIDDING ME...

MISSING THE POINT....

(I emailed this to Jenny Crwys-Williams and Andy Rice of 702 Talk Radio. Jenny runs an ad feature on her show every Thursday with Andy as a guest expert. That he is and more with a subtle wit to accompany his articulate, informative demeanour.)

Now is it just me or has there been a plethora of irritation expressed over the ads I’m about to highlight?
I refer firstly to the strange practice of advertising agencies allowing themselves to be browbeaten into the hideously bad idea of presenting a real live customer as a voice-over artist through a radio media campaign. I mean, I can’t imagine for a second that the agency would have advised the client of such folly. Would they? Surely not? Tell me it isn’t so…

I recall the MD of Sembel-It having a go at this in the dim and distant past, his wooden monotonous delivery about as inspiring, exciting and convincing as an inebriated beggar at a traffic light.
But the ultimate cringe has to be the Hirsch adverts starring none other than the irrepressible (yet nauseatingly irritating) Lucy Hirsch herself. At first pass I was amused – greatly amused – as I thought it to be a lampoon of some sort but as time wore on I realised that this was the real deal, almost as tragic as those hapless figures on SA Idols who can’t carry a tune for toffee yet are convinced, not only of their vocal prowess, but believe they really and truly deserve to be the biggest thing in pop since Robbie Williams gave his erstwhile boy band the finger all those aeons ago…
I have reached the stage where the opening: “Hah – ahm Loo see Hersch…” causes an involuntary muscle reaction within my left arm, spasming it whip-like to the OFF button on my car radio. I have no control over this – it just happens. About thirty seconds pass and then it does it again – this time targeting the ON button. And the demon is gone. The sweating subsides into a mild panic and I can drive to the jocular John Robbie or the redoubtable Redi Direko or the charismatic Chris Gibbons or the jolly Jenny Crwys-Williams or the drive-time David O’Sullivan – after that I’m usually home. Anything, please anything other than Loo-see Hersch!
Why do they do it Andy, why? I would rather eat worms than listen to the nasal whine of that woman let alone directing my car to any of their one-two-three stores to buy so much as a pack of AAA batteries. It simply doesn’t work. Or does it? Is there a rabid following of aurally-impaired Hirschophiles out there that hang on her every badly-pronounced word? Or are there droves of people like me who cringe every time she opens her mouth? I mean a Facebook group dedicated to her irritation: Get off the radio Lucy Hirsch: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2418711473 Doesn’t that kinda sum up the dismal failure of this campaign or are the ad execs disarmingly convincing the Hirsch family that even bad media is good exposure?

Secondly there is the bizarre perception fostered by agencies that ordinary people talk like physicians when they meet casually in supermarkets, just breathless to pounce upon the first opportunity to discuss constipation or other digestive ailments in the frankest of terms. Where do these fools live?
When have you or anyone else on the planet small-talked about the pharmacological action of a medication? Never happened. Never will.
They have one on air currently about a certain laxative. Picture this: a Saturday morning. Jenny and Andy casually bump into one another in the aisle of their local Spar (Good for you? Good for them!).

Reality is:
Jenny: Hi, Andy, what’s up?
Andy: (if he’s comfortable about sharing his digestive dilemmas in the first place) Hi, Jen – nothing much. Just feeling a bit bloated – y’know – constipated…very uncomfortable.
Jenny: You poor dear. Oh, I use this stuff (insert trade name here) and it’s great. It really works.
Andy: What was that name again?
Jenny: (Repeats trade name)
Andy: Thanks, I’ll try it.
End of discussion. It either works or it doesn’t.

Not:
Jenny: Hi, Andy, what’s up?
Andy: (we’ve already established that it doesn’t offend his or Jenny’s sensibilities talking about his poo-problems publicly) Hi, Jen – nothing much. Just feeling a bit bloated – y’know – constipated…very uncomfortable.
Jenny: You poor dear. Oh, you should really try (launching into a pharmacist-type authoritarian tone) (insert trade name here) it acts by its osmotic properties thus increasing stimulation of fluid secretion, thereby promoting bowel movement while simultaneously stimulating the accumulation of water and electrolytes in the colon and thus increasing intestinal motility.
Andy: Wow! that sounds like just what I need?
Jenny: (Repeats trade name) – it really works
Andy: Thanks, I’m going to rush over to the pharmacy immediately and ingest heaps of this amazing stuff!

If anyone’s friends (who weren’t pharmacists getting Drug company kickbacks) had to talk to them in this manner, they would turn tail and flee, considering the possibility of having their pal committed for losing all touch with reality.
If they’re going to advertise drugs in technical manner then surely they must attempt to deliver the message through the agency of an authority figure such as a (suitably cast) doctor or a pharmacist and avoid at all costs the insulting, annoying dynamic of unrealistic situation dialogue which serves only to alienate the market they seek to access?
The third one is for a pile (haemorrhoid) treatment which devolves so deeply into the realm of ridiculousness that it can only be amusing – ask Redi Direko – she knows this stuff really works. She heard the ad, lapsed into paroxysms of mirth to such a degree that I’m sure she must have been in danger of having a mishap.
The ultimate ad would thus have to be: Lucy Hirsch and the MD of Sembel-It meeting in a public place and discussing their combined haemorrhoidal and defecatory restrictedness in a frank, whining, pharmacological exchange.
I just can’t wait.