Celebrations but moments of sadness too

One of the joys of sport, much as in life itself, lies in its unpredictability. There is no such animal as a sure thing, regardless of what the experts may say - and greatness has sometimes been and gone before we have realised it has been in our midst.

I remember going to Newlands when Western Province rugby was in the middle of a purple patch. Currie Cup champions 1982-83-84-85-86-8? was the message used to greet visitors to the arena.

Like everything else, however, it would not last and soon there was another team in charge on the domestic front.

How many people, for example, would have been bold enough to have a flutter on Hasim Rahman dethroning world heavyweight boxing champion Lennox Lewis with a single punch last Sunday morning?

Or, come to think of it, is there anyone out there who actually did put money on Ian McIntosh's Natal side breaching the boerewors curtain at Loftus 11 years ago to claim their first-ever Currie Cup rugby championship in their centenary season?

Neither event was supposed to happen, according to those in the know.

Rahman found himself knocked to the canvas by our own Corrie Sanders, before pulling himself together to claim one of the lesser-regarded titles. But he was nowhere near being a household name in a division that has been shorn of star attractions for several decades now.

And Lewis seemed head and shoulders above everyone else. He obviously thought so too.

McIntosh's minnows had suffered an embarrassing defeat by Northern Transvaal a fortnight earlier at the same venue. But they regrouped, and with some cloak and dagger work by the canny puppet master himself, rugby in the Last Outpost was never to be the same again.

Or was it?

After McIntosh's departure, the Sharks, under his one-time assistant Hugh Reece-Edwards, invested heavily in the hope of fast tracking the next generation of stars down Durban way.

The only problem was that despite a promising start to the Super 12 last season, they failed to take their chances. Their season continued in a downhill vein until the arrival of Rudolph Straeuli as head coach.

That's how fine the dividing line is between success and failure - in sport as well as in life.

We recall the Joel Stransky drop goal in extra-time at Ellis Park as a reason to celebrate a memorable '95 Rugby World Cup final triumph over New Zealand.

Rugby in Kiwiland, despite dominating the Super 12 and Tri-Nations, has never quite been the same again.

It's those small things on which matches, or even entire eras, can turn.

But, just as there are many reasons for celebration, so too are there moments of sadness too.

I never knew the late Blue Bulls and Springbok lock Wium Basson. I learnt that he had contracted liver cancer a month ago or so - and had been given a short time in which to live.

But nothing prepared me for the bleak message that followed an SABC Special Assignment documentary on a Nigerian faith healer, who Basson visited in a bid to save his life. After a brief exchange during a lengthy service in which the preacher told him to return a month later, the stark message on the screen read something like: Basson passed away last Sunday.

I had the pleasure of covering the Springboks' tour to Europe in 1997, the one in which Nick Mallett made an immediate impact. Basson was on that tour and the abiding memory I have is from an official dinner an hour or so outside Bologna, Italy, where Breyton Paulse playfully stuffed Basson's blazer pockets with bread rolls while he was away from the table.

Wium was twice Breyton's size, but took the ribbing from his teammates in a good-natured manner.

He's certain to be missed.

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