Why I'll miss Bullet

The first time I saw James Dalton play he was the star of the Transvaal under-21 side that played against the Natal junior side in the curtain-raiser to the 1993 Currie Cup final at King's Park.

Many would say it was fitting that Dalton's game ended early.

Together with a player from the opposition team, he was sent off by the referee for fighting.

There were other incidents in the next two or three years, and it culminated in the sending-off against Canada in Port Elizabeth which nearly cost South Africa the 1995 World Cup.

But one of the anomalies about Dalton's career is that for all the off-field happenings that regularly made the newspapers, that momentous night in Port Elizabeth was the last time that I can recall the feisty hooker being sent from the field in a major match.

Yes, like all aggressive players he did give away the odd penalty, he may have been carded a few times or even sent off the field in a Currie Cup match that I just don't remember.

The point though is that for me the abiding memory of James Dalton will not be of any act of onfield thuggery, which is strange if you believe all the stories, both spoken and written, about what he gets up to in night-clubs.

Instead, I'll remember the late Kitch Christie telling a couple of journalists that if there was a captain in the making ready to assume the mantle from Francois Pienaar, it was Dalton.

Christie seemed to have an incredibly high regard for Dalton - to the best of my knowledge, it was Christie who first called him Bullet - and that in itself says a lot as the former Springbok coach was a stickler for discipline.

It may have been forgotten by many, but we did occasionally get glimpses of Dalton's leadership credentials. Brief though his flirtation with the captaincy role was, there was no denying the outstanding job he did as he led the ailing Bulls to a shock win over the Cats at Ellis Park in the last match of the 2001 Super 12 season.

At the time, the Cats were the form South African team. Playing under the coaching of Laurie Mains, the Cats had already qualified for the Super 12 semi-finals but a home play-off was at stake when they hosted the Bulls, who were languishing at the bottom of the table, in the final match.

No-one gave the Bulls a chance but throughout the buildup week Dalton, who had only just been appointed to the captaincy, gave the impression in media interviews that his team were not just in with a chance, but could even have the edge.

Not one who liked losing or ever believed there was any reason he had to lose, the Dalton temperament rubbed off on the rest of his team. His enmity with Mains, who had dropped him from the Lions team two years earlier, no doubt fuelled his passion to win that game and it explained the unbridled joy with which he greeted the final whistle.

As Dalton strode around the field at Ellis Park, his hands held aloft in triumph like an all-conquering collossus, it was easy to imagine that the Bulls had just won the Super 12 instead of just achieving a final face-saving win.

Sadly, Dalton did not continue in the captaincy role in following seasons, perhaps more because he kept falling out with coaches over issues not related to rugby than anything to do with form or ability to inspire those around him.

Like James Small before him, Dalton did not always agree with authority and authority did not agree with him. Unlike Small, however, you could never really accuse Dalton of not being a team man.

Last year, when it seemed Western Province were short of hookers, I suggested to one of their officials that Dalton be lured to the Cape. The idea was laughed at, so I put it to former Springbok and WP prop Toks van der Linde, who had played both with and against Dalton.

"That guy is misunderstood," said Toks. "He is actually a really great team man and he is an incredible presence to have with you on the field. He is the sort of bloke who will make those around him raise their game and give an extra effort. I reckon WP would make a mistake if they ignored him just because of his reputation."

Of course, there were good reasons for the reputation that Van der Linde referred to. Off the field, Dalton could be a walking time bomb and the incidents have been documented enough in other forms of media.

We journalists sometimes saw him as Jekyll and Hyde personality. At times, many times, he would come across as really personable. At a post-match cocktail party he would thump you on the shoulder and embrace you as an old friend. If you had written something he disagreed with, however, he could be fearsome. Above all, he was unpredictable.

In 1997 Mark Keohane, then a journalist, wrote a particularly damning piece about the Springboks in a New Zealand newspaper on the Monday after the 55-35 defeat in Auckland.

Throughout the 24 hour stop-over in Sydney, players and management members came to me to enquire as to his whereabouts - they wanted to give him a piece of their mind.

"Careful when you see the Boks, they are fuming," was the way I greeted Keohane, who had stayed on in Auckland to see family, when he came through to join the flight from Sydney to Johannesburg.

So he probably feared the worst when we bumped into Dalton in a narrow passage at Perth airport a few hours later.

"Hey Mark, what was that complete c**p in the paper this morning," barked Dalton. But when he moved towards Keohane it was with a huge smile on his face and he proceeded to give him a big bear-hug. They chatted and the pair spent much of the onward flight to Joburg sharing a few drinks.

But the following year, after South Africa's Tri-Nations win over Australia, he was offered a drink by a colleague. "Mate, I am a millionaire, why would I want a drink from you," was how Dalton responded.

That was 1998. A year later, in 1999, Dalton fell out of favour at both provincial and Springbok level. He was, however, part of the Lions squad of 22 that won the Currie Cup in Durban. Straight after being presented with what would have been his second Currie Cup winners medal, Dalton made off through the cocktail party throng towards a watching journalist.

"Here, you have this," said Dalton as he placed the medal around the writer's neck, "you have done more to deserve this this season than I have."

Looking back at Dalton's career, it is hard to forget the tearful press conference that was held in Johannesburg to announce his suspension from the 1995 World Cup. The hooker's dream had been shattered, many felt unfairly so, and he could no longer hold in the emotion. That day was a graphic illustration of what James Dalton felt for rugby and for his team.

Radio presenter Jeremy Mansfield, currently with Highveld but then with 702, proceeded on his mid-afternoon show with Jenny Crys-Williams to call Dalton a cry-baby - a very brave thing to do if you consider the man's reputation.

Dalton never did take up Mansfield's challenge to come in for a studio interview, but when he was interviewed on the station that same week, it appeared he had taken the side-show that had enacted itself out for Johannesburg listeners in good humour and good spirit.

Dalton was one of the last of South Africa's players who had lived through both the professional era and the final days of the amateur age. In the last 12 months he spoke often about his dissatisfaction with the way modern rugby was headed and it was summed up by his retirement quote that contemporary players worry too much about what they can take from the game without giving any consideration for what they can give back.

These are views which may seem out of kilter with the public persona presented on the news pages over the past few years but they are definitely in line with the commitment he gave to the Springboks and South African rugby in 43 tests.

Like him or hate him, Dalton was a character, something that is becoming increasingly rare amidst the meaningless quotes of the sanitised modern game. That is why I for one will miss him.