Lost in Dubai

So you think this job of mine is glamorous. Heck, I’ve just flown off to Dubai to spend a few days among good ole rugby folk watching the Dubai Rugby 7s; all expenses paid.

Put that way I suppose it is.

But first up a confession. As I write this we – the SuperSport television crew and I – have been in Dubai for slightly more than 12 hours and I have not set eyes on one of Chester Williams’ Springboks.

And, just to get it out in the open, I am unlikely to spot a Bok for another 12 hours.

You see, the Boks are lost in the desert… at least from my perspective they are. They might not be lost, but I have lost them… if you get my drift.

Having touched down at Dubai’s state-of-the-art airport in the early hours of the morning – 3a.m. SA time, 5a.m. Dubai time – we were soon made to feel like the outcast founding fathers of this tournament who formed themselves into a group known as the Dubai Exiles and started, on their sand pitch, a tournament which was to become one of the best-known events on the Sevens circuit.

We could not book into the hotel we were taken to. Not because we were too early, but because they seemed to have no record of us. Five hours later we were transported to another of the hotels, which all seem to have Rotana in their name, and given a room.

Feeling thoroughly frayed at the edges from lack of sleep on the long flight – Emirates may be the world’s champion airline but the award is clearly not based on anything that happens in the cramped spaces of economy class! – I did what comes naturally and fell asleep.

Refreshed and having watched a stunning display of aeronautic acrobatics by the Red Arrows – I assume, based on the compelling fact that the planes were red and I noticed in a local newspaper that Prince Andrew had been in Dubai to open a massive air show – from the pool on our hotel’s rooftop we set out on a scouting mission to the Exiles’ Stadium where on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday more than a 1500 rugby players of all creeds and skills will risk heat exhaustion and dehydration by playing rugby in searing heat and stifling humidity.

With Sevens heavyweights Fiji and Australia along with England, Argentina and Canada having cried off because they felt themselves to be unsafe coming to the Middle East and the tournament stripped of its status as World Cup Sevens event, much attention will be on the All Blacks and the Springboks to give this year’s Dubai Sevens some lustre.

They are the glamour teams but there will also be secondary tournaments for youngsters and teams with names such as Guiseborough Monks, Currie Chiefs, Typhoon Baabaas, Western Gecos, Barrelhouse, Nondies and Colgate Beavers. It goes without saying that quaffing enormous quantities of beer and having much fun goes hand-in-hand with Sevens.

Dubai, reached by heading in a north-easterly direction across the horn of Africa until you strike the Persian Gulf, shimmers in the bright light of an utterly cloudless sky. It is a city of broad highways, far-flung futuristic skyscrapers and dusty palms.

The grounds of the Dubai Exiles are a tribute to man’s ingenuity. Three perfectly grassed pitches, the main one surrounded by conglomeration of stands clearly erected at different times, are separated by powdery desert sand. The grass, like that at the emerald Dubai Creek golf course, glimpsed alongside the airport highway, is thanks to thousands of gallons of water pumped from deep in the earth.

The sandy wastes are the reason I have not been able to spot a Springbok. They and the other teams have been taken on a sunset excursion and night reception in the desert. We heard about it too late, missed the convoy and were told that tight security would prevent us from following.

This is the only reminder we get of the fact that the United Arab Emirates border on Iraq and that the area we’re in is not all that far removed from the Afghanistan hot spot.

Four hours later: Supper courtesy of our coupons at one hotel and then getting somewhat lost trying to locate own home base. Point out to driver that a mosque in a sprawling Muslim city is hardly a landmark, and no wonder we’ve just spotted our 79th domed roof!

Still haven’t seen the Boks. Down to work tomorrow (Wednesday) and hopefully will catch up with Chessie’s Chaps while they’re practising as the big teams will not be in action on the first day. Will keep you posted.