Team Cinderella

Last Saturday evening was a whirlwind of emotions for me; it started in one of the oldest bars in Cape Town, which was jammed full of Springbok rugby supporters and almost as many TV screens. There was shouting, there was screaming, there was singing the national anthem with tears in eyes, there was beer going left, right and centre as waiters delivered their precious cargo to customers who were almost trance-like as the game unfolded.

The evening ended, in the serene atmosphere of Cape Towns Opera house and a performance of Cinderella, skillfully delivered by the Cape Town Ballet. It has to be said it was a less than a capacity crowd, but those who were there, politely laughed when required, clapped equally as polite when the situation demanded it and stood up and cheered, politely of course at the end.

It's hard to imagine a more significant contrast in events, especially when they happen one after the other with only minutes separating them. There are obvious problems to attending two events back to back, and poles apart. First of all what to wear? I couldn't go to the ballet with full Springbok rugby supporters kit on, and likewise, I couldn't go to a crowded pub with beer flowing all over the place in a dinner suit. Also, I couldn't turn up at the ballet drunk, stinking of beer and equally I couldn't sit in a crowded pub watching the biggest game of rugby of the entire year sipping mineral water.

But despite the apparent polarisation of the two events, I was surprised by how many things the two had in common.

For example, the ballet started with the opening overture and who better to perform it than the City of Cape Town Symphony Orchestra. The prelude sets the scene, it prepares the audience for the coming performance, it hints of greatness to come, it raises heart rates and lifts expectations. It has to be said the orchestra did a good job but, it was a little on the quiet side and of course was so awfully polite, but it did its job.

On the other hand, expectations rose, heart rates increased as Loftus sang the South African National Anthem, more than hinting of the greatness to come. But the full-blown overture erupted when the All Blacks attempted to intimidate the Boks with their quite frankly childish Haka. They formed up in their relatively new triangle formation, their knees bent, their elbows came up, and their tongues came out. The Haka started, and with it, the most impressive, gut-wrenching, rigid hair on the back of the neck overture began with the capacity crowd successfully drowning out and entirely marginalising the bloody haka.

Don't get me wrong I am not particularly anti the Haka; I think its a significant aspect of New Zealand life. Back in the day, and I am talking up to about the 1960's, whenever the All Blacks toured Europe it was somehow exotic to witness the Haka. It was a real sense of occasion, these warriors who had travelled from a tiny, insignificate, remote Island in the back of beyond and bought with them this real touch of an ethnic occasion.

Of course, what made it a great event was because you did not get many chances to witness it. The TV was in its infancy, and the All Blacks only toured every few years because it took them about seven weeks to get to Europe. But today things are different, in any one year, most of us have the opportunity to see the Haka performed 10, maybe 15 times, so its exotic appeal has worn a bit thin. To be honest, today the Haka looks a bit like a poorly choreographed 80's boy band who have not grown old gracefully. Here I found a startling similarity between the Haka and the Fairy God Mother and the corps de ballet dance routine at the end of act one. Namely, it was interesting, but added nothing to the narrative of the event taking place.

Okay, overture out of the way. I have to say that although the two ugly sisters in the ballet bore a striking resemblance to that iconic vision of Reid and Sonny Bill sticking their tongues out during the Haka, they also appeared to be less agile and less elegant than just about all of the Springboks players, with the exception of dear Stephen Kitshoff. But he is a ginger, and it's perhaps rude to single him out for comment.

Then in act two this guy who I assume was the court jester, skipped, leapt and danced through the Corps de Ballet with some degree of precision and a lot of speed. When he wasn't doing that, he seemed to be organising the ladies of the corp and continually repositioning them on stage. Immediately Faf de Klerk came to mind.

Then there was the Prince who danced with Cinderella. Here was a man who was born to be a king, a future leader of men and someone who could leap vertically way up into the air from a standing start. The similarity to Eben Etzebeth was evident, although at one stage the Prince lifted Cinderella off the ground and walked around the stage with her, of course at this point he looked more like Pieter-Steph du Toit than Eben.

I have already mentioned the fairy godmother and her none essential dance routine, but she was also apparently one of the smaller dancers on stage, slim almost delicate, some would say a real lighty. But she had some excellent moves and was brimming with skill. Cheslin Kolbe, you are our fairy godmother and just like the one in the ballet you are also capable of performing magic, and I thank you for that.

So there you have it two events seemingly a million miles apart, yet with many similarities. The Springboks did get to go to the ball, and they did get to dance with pretend nobility. But when the shoe came off, it sounded a lot like a wheel rolling away from the cart. There was no happy ending for the Springbok cinderellas; their day was spoilt by a team which frankly has no sense of occasion, a group that thinks ME, ME and ME again.