On any given Saturday

Naas! Kobus! Naas! Kobus! Days after getting the chance to literally take an oblique view of the test between the Springboks and England in Bloemfontein the names of the two SuperSport presenters are still ringing in my ears.

Thanks to the launch of Absa’s Bok Town, I flew to the Free State capital as part of the broadcast team – a minor cog in a machine numbering more than 100 people.

To ensure coverage of both the match and the launch of Bok Town required two separate crews, descending on Bloemfontein in five charter flights from Lanseria Airport, any number of vehicles and, of course, the high tech OB (outside broadcast) units which are the nerve centre of a television production.

I have been part of broadcasts before but I was again amazed at the organization required to put pictures on the screens of television sets scattered throughout the land.

There is always much talk of team work in big matches but the synchronization of the 44 players and their coaching staff pales into insignificance when compared to precision required of the TV crew where any weak link, any mistake, in the chain from camera to commentator, from sound man to slow motion operator, can ruin a production.

I decided to pick a spot in the stadium “studio,” set up on scaffolding over a spectator walkway in one corner of the field. The studio is what you see just before the start; Tony Ndoro with Naas Botha and Kobus Wiese seated at a desk chatting about the game against a background of the field and the stadium; the backdrop being a netting drape to provide a muted affect which also softens the light.

And that’s when it started. “Hey Naas!” “Hey, Kobus!” Fans spotting the famous pair shouting out their names and hoping for some interchange, perhaps recognition.

“Naas!” “Kobus!”

On and on it went – one chap sitting behind the posts, brandishing a can of the brew that had rendered him brainless, being so intent on getting the attention of the famous Boks that he seemed to stand on his seat with his back to the game, even when Springbok tries were being scored right behind him, for the duration of the match.

“Naas!” “Kobus!”

To me it was like a neighbour’s car alarm going off intermittently in the middle of the night but Messrs Botha and Wiese studiously focused on the camera or the screen in front of them – knowing that even the slightest acknowledgement would raise the “Naas!” “Kobus!” chorus by a few additional voices and octaves.

My end-on perch provided me with a fascinating afternoon; both from the point of view of experiencing what can only be described as the “organised chaos” of a big outside broadcast and also because of the altered perspective of the game itself.

Rugby for me, thanks to the privilege of my profession, has always been a side-on affair – nice seat in the grandstand or an even better position, thanks to television’s metaphorical “seat on the middle line,” from my chair in the office or an even more comfortable sofa.

Peering along the field I was surprised at how different the game looked; especially how big the cross-field spaces actually are. The side-on camera has a way of compressing the spaces between players, often making me wonder why a player would try a break, but lengthways you find yourself wondering why players don’t hit the gaps more often.

“Naas!” “Kobus!”

There were other interesting insights sitting in line with the cheap seats. I have, for instance, wondered why spectators can be so insensitive when a minute of silence is called for (in this case as a mark of respect at the passing of Tommie Loubscher) but the truth is, at least at Vodacom Park, that if you’re sitting behind the posts you cannot hear the on-field announcer (who happened to be the best of them, Durban’s Dave McLeod).

You’re aware of an overly amplified booming noise but you can’t make out any words – to the extent that even though I was sitting within two metres of “Naas!” and “Kobus!” I couldn’t hear a word they were saying. The anthems, but for recognizing the tunes and the players lining up in front of the main stand, might have gone by unnoticed.

“Naas!” “Kobus!”

Sitting in my eyrie in the corner also provided a close up of the Springboks’ warm-up drills and the strutting self-importance of the team’s back-up staff putting out little orange cones, yellow tackling bags and a rope ladder. Apart from the tackling bags, which can at least warm up shoulders for the impact to come, I really couldn’t see the need for the other equipment and eventually “Naas!” and “Kobus!” and I were more irritated than interested by the sight of auxiliary staff in Springbok dress blazers.

SA Rugby does not have a single genuine Springbok in its top management, including Oregan Hoskins and Jake White, and they would be interested to know that if there’s one thing that really annoys real Springboks it is the sight of video operators, secretaries and bloated officials in the gold-braided blazer.

“Naas!” “Kobus!” And then it was into the game. Ricky Januarie hooking his box kicks in-field, Jonny Wilkinson sending a punt straight up the middle, Butch James showing his annoyance at the ball not going out far enough… could it have been because the flag posts at the intersections of the 22 and halfway lines were set well back from the field; and that they were in the sponsor’s blue and almost indistinguishable against the blue of the sponsor’s billboards?

Someone who wasn’t in a Bok blazer was Rassie Erasmus. Instead of being up on the roof with his colour-coded cards the Cheetahs coach was in a track suit and was carrying on water and, obviously, Jake’s instructions – or perhaps even his own. Other teams have to rely on the physios, but the Boks have their own former Bok. Wonder when the other teams are going to object.

“Naas!” “Kobus!”

Off to Bok Town we went. Another psyched up director, another crew crackling with tension and more pictures being beamed to who knows where and finally “Naas!” and “Kobus!” tailing off into the cold night as de-rigging started, kilometers of cabling was reeled in and the caravan prepared to move on.

The one thing I now know is that every picture does not even begin to tell the story!