Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme: Africa, it's bandy time
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Many times I've turned off the TV in disgust, promising never to waste my time watching sport again. It famously happened during the first innings of the 438-game, when Ricky Ponting was discarding Roger Telemachus to all corners of the Wanderers. I couldn't bear to watch how my beloved Proteas were - again - suffering at the hands of our fiercest rivals. So I turned off the TV and tried my best to forget about the game. Never again will I watch cricket, I told Helanya, it was just too humiliating. It was only much later that day, when I walked into a restaurant with the final over of the match about to start, that I realised what was happening: that we were about to win the greatest game in the history of cricket. I vowed there and then to never waver in my support again. I don't think I'm unique in my love for how sport can excite the senses: the thrill of the chase, the tension of a crucial point, the suspense of a fightback. There are those who disagree (see cartoon), and to be honest, sometimes I do envy them: after watching a 6 hour Saturday rugby and football marathon on TV, there are often regrets. But what the sport atheists often don't understand is that sport is more than the on-field battle: as South Africans would know, sport has this amazing capacity to build and unite. The 1995 Rugby World Cup, and South Africa's eventual victory against the Jonah Lomu-inspired All Blacks, is the textbook example of sport's capacity to bring people closer together. And don't discount the impact of the 1996 African Cup of Nations too; that was my first experience of football, for example. Following these events, Nelson Mandela would famously
Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme: Africa, it's bandy time
Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme: Africa, it's…
Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme: Africa, it's bandy time
Many times I've turned off the TV in disgust, promising never to waste my time watching sport again. It famously happened during the first innings of the 438-game, when Ricky Ponting was discarding Roger Telemachus to all corners of the Wanderers. I couldn't bear to watch how my beloved Proteas were - again - suffering at the hands of our fiercest rivals. So I turned off the TV and tried my best to forget about the game. Never again will I watch cricket, I told Helanya, it was just too humiliating. It was only much later that day, when I walked into a restaurant with the final over of the match about to start, that I realised what was happening: that we were about to win the greatest game in the history of cricket. I vowed there and then to never waver in my support again. I don't think I'm unique in my love for how sport can excite the senses: the thrill of the chase, the tension of a crucial point, the suspense of a fightback. There are those who disagree (see cartoon), and to be honest, sometimes I do envy them: after watching a 6 hour Saturday rugby and football marathon on TV, there are often regrets. But what the sport atheists often don't understand is that sport is more than the on-field battle: as South Africans would know, sport has this amazing capacity to build and unite. The 1995 Rugby World Cup, and South Africa's eventual victory against the Jonah Lomu-inspired All Blacks, is the textbook example of sport's capacity to bring people closer together. And don't discount the impact of the 1996 African Cup of Nations too; that was my first experience of football, for example. Following these events, Nelson Mandela would famously