ARRIVING IN SOUTH AFRICA

The arrival of England’s cricket team in South Africa in October 1995 was an important sporting event. It was the first time an official England tour party had visited South Africa since its isolation from world cricket.

The tour was never far removed from the influence and inspiration of Mandela. He used his political antennae to good effect and, along with his advisors, rarely missed a trick. Indeed luck was on his side in those early days. Just a few months before our arrival, Francois Pienaar led South Africa to victory in the Rugby World Cup and Mandela was invited to join in the celebrations and wear the South African rugby jersey. With rugby still very much an Afrikaner stronghold, nothing could have been more symbolic than this gesture.

England embarked upon its first-class programme with a four-day match in Soweto against a South African Invitation XI, led by Hanse Cronje, South Africa ’s captain. This was the first game of such significance to be played in the township which for decades had been synonymous with hardship, poverty and brutality, its population segregated from the white man by repressive laws.

We were breaking fresh ground, playing cricket on a relatively new and unsophisticated Oval. Police sirens wailed in front of and behind our coach as it drove into the South West Township . History was being made; we were helping South Africa to embark upon a new era.

The ground was magnificently decorated with colourful marquees which would not have been out of place at Tunbridge Wells or Cheltenham . Stands for the crowds of spectators, and especially school children, had been erected and surrounded the playing area.

Three thousand children were bussed into the ground to watch their first ever game of proper cricket. What a treat there was in store for them. Not only did they see Atherton and Stewart batting fluently together but they also witnessed, just before lunch, the arrival of Nelson Mandela amidst a cavalcade of noisy cars and the beat of helicopter propellers. He was led round and introduced to all manner of people, including both teams and officials, and said time and again, “What a great honour it is to meet you.” His humility and sincerity (the two do not always go together) have possibly been his greatest strengths since his release from prison.

After much handshaking and waving and chatting to as many school children as possible, the excitement gradually subsided and the cricket continued. Shortly after lunch Mandela slipped away back to Pretoria , a little more quietly than he had arrived, and things got back to normal. It had been like a royal visit but without as much protocol or organisation.

As the warm afternoon wore on, the English started to run out of steam. I, along with several others, began to detect the tell-tale signs of heavy eyes which signalled sleep. I turned to Devon Malcolm, who was sitting alongside and not due to bat for ages, if ever. I suggested that we take a walk around the ground. He welcomed the idea and, although we could persuade no one else to join us, we set off, clockwise, carefully progressing behind the stands where we were less likely to be observed. An ice cream would have been welcome so we made good speed to the furthest side of the ground from the pavilion where it was rough and bumpy.

We were just about to move on when the South African Youth Development Manager, Kaya Majola, saw us and suggested that we hold an impromptu coaching class for some of the Soweto children watching the cricket. By now Atherton had been batting for a long time, in obdurate form, and it did not take much to persuade a large number of youngsters to leave the cricket and join in.

All of a sudden Devon and I had been put on the spot. There were a few bats, a handful of tennis balls and a smiling Devon Malcolm who seemed unphased by the challenge.

“What do you think?” I asked him, casting my eye upon a sea of expectant faces.

Devon ’s reply surprised me. “I think I shall teach them how to bat,” he answered with a glint in his eye.

He took up the challenge with great gusto and, after a couple of demonstrations, the whole field was littered with children swishing about with bats and having the time of their lives. This was certainly more fun than watching cricket. Half an hour later, exhausted by their exertions, the children sat down and listened to some wise words from our fast bowler before returning to their places in the stand.

When they had gone, we continued our walk and Kaya Majola came up to us.

“Many thanks for that,” he said. “I fear you might have just ruined a whole generation of South African cricketers.”

back