It was Sacha proud moment in my life
Hello my good football people… well here goes! I hope you won’t mind if I switch from the ‘Beautiful Game’ this week and chat about rugby?
Like most youngsters growing up in England, no other sport existed other than football… rugby was generally played in posh schools and had a very distinct stiff upper lip, British-type culture around it.
Meanwhile, on the streets and playgrounds around the country, most kids were dreaming of scoring a goal at Wembley! I never watched a minute of the oval ball stuff… all I was aware of was my old man on anti-Apartheid demonstration when the Springboks toured England in the ’60’s…
Banners proclaiming: “Don’t scrum with a racist bum!”
There couldn’t be a bigger turnaround in my interest in the game than what transpired after leaving England and settling in Cape Town. Well, after being here for 20 years anyway!
For those of you who haven’t seen tons of proud dad posts on X (Twitter)… my son Sacha made the Springbok team!
He’d been in camps for the last two years (and captained the Junior Boks) but this was the real deal, in the same team as the f*****g world champions, hanging out and playing with the same guys he was cheering on the TV a year ago in the World Cup! Maaaadness I tell you.
“Oi, Faf, pass the tomato sauce…”
“Sies Ox, did you do that stinky fart?”
Yeah, he’s one of the boys! Of course having been alongside him his whole ‘career’ (and despite the crazy cost as the team was only announced five days before kick-off), I had to be at Twickenham to see him (hopefully) get a run off the bench, making his official Springbok debut!
To think of the literal blood, sweat and tears and massive work that it’s taken him to get to this point. The disappointments and triumphs, the injuries and operations.
The trials and tournaments, the timing and luck (or bad luck)… people just don’t get how incredibly difficult it is achieving a chance at elite level.
The pressure is unimaginable, the opportunity enormous, the chance of catastrophe resting on a dropped ball or sliced kick. It’s cut-throat out there and the next talented youngster is just waiting at his (or her) shot.
But here I am sitting in a flat overlooking Battersea Power Station de-stressing after what was probably the most anxious 20 minutes of my life.
It all started building in the morning as I grabbed a coffee at the train station and got caught up in a sea of green and gold!
The moment when all the work paid off😭 pic.twitter.com/tEWIfsJU0X
— Nick Feinberg (@thehonestnick) June 22, 2024
Everywhere I tell ya’… the train was packed and getting out at Twickenham station was a South African sensory overload…vuvuzelas, sausages on the grill, flags and beer!
Got to my seat at 1.30pm and sat in a state of absolute anxiety as the boys were on the pitch limbering up for the first outing of the season!
Back into the changing room and then out for the national anthem. That was the moment it all became too overwhelming.
💚💛🇿🇦👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 https://t.co/b4Ib2GQKAO
— Nick Feinberg (@thehonestnick) June 21, 2024
I cried like a baby, all those years, all the anticipation, all the excitement and nerves, pouring out of me for a couple of minutes…
The game was fairly exciting, but half the time I was watching the bench, as periodically Sach would get up and have a stretch. Was this the moment he sticks his chest out and runs on for his country?
Well, it took 60 minutes before Rassie switched flyhalves and on he came! I was a little surprised at his body language (as he has so much respect for the older established players), but he was pointing and shouting and organising the backline like he’d been there for a decade!
What a fuckin day! 💚💛🇿🇦😭 pic.twitter.com/fijv7aQG2T
— Nick Feinberg (@thehonestnick) June 22, 2024
“A bit much” I thought and then came what turned out to be (for him not the team) the defining moment. Against instruction (and you can see Rassie swearing as Sach ‘opted’ to take on an audacious 55 meter penalty for his first international points), the kid sailed it over.
The coaching staff clapping and laughing as if to say “cheeky little bastard”.
On a personal level, as he stepped up to kick my testes were high up in my throat as I sat there like a strung out meth head. But of course this wasn’t about me, or Sacha… this was about the collected effort to positively represent South Africa. A moment that I will never forget.
A moment that closed a circuit on my family's story. From my father escaping SA in 61, us ‘returning in 94’ and our kid representing the country at national level.
My teste’s near my tonsils when he opted to take his first senior international points from over the halfway line 🫣 https://t.co/3Lb7RQ66fO
— Nick Feinberg (@thehonestnick) June 22, 2024
The media and internet has gone mad, it feels like he grabbed his opportunity, allayed any idea that he may not be able to handle the big occasion and barring any mishaps could be at the start of a great career.
Thank you all for indulging me… its back to the ‘Beautiful Game’ next week and thank you so much for all the tons of positive messages. Much love, bye byeeee.
dailyvoice@inl.co.za