LAST weekend I witnessed a crowd of people go through a roller-coaster of emotions. It was actually last Saturday and I was at the Blockbuster boxing extravaganza at Emperor's Palace in Kempton Park.
Before that, I had not been aware there were so many Congolese boxers who have made Mzansi their home.
They also have a stable to themselves and are under the tutelage of local boxing legends like Harold Volbrecht.
A quick glance at the evening's programme describes their home town as Gauteng, while their birthplace is the Democratic Republic of Congo.
This is not a column about xenophobia. It is about observing the behaviour, or is it the reaction, of people at a sporting event that crosses the patriotic and racial divide.
The match-making pitted local pugilists against the foreign invasion. Other bouts saw black South Africans come up against their white counterparts.
The first fight saw Samuel Malinga square up to Bongo Lipemba in the junior welterweight division, while Zack Mwekassa faced the previously undefeated Thabiso Mchunu in a catchweight class and the third between Mzansi and Congo was a heavyweight scrap between Danie Venter and the overrated Flo Simba. It was clear where loyalties lay as the evening progressed.
There were no prizes for guessing who was who as the cheering and encouragement showed who was Congolese and who was South African as the guys exchanged leather.
Lipemba and Mwekassa won their respective fights and taunted their opponents during the bouts.
They were saying you may be the current champions in our divisions but we can and will beat you. That seemed to make some people uncomfortable.
So twice in the evening we were disappointed. The Congolese were one, or is that two, up on us.
What happened next was another situation that showed the racial divide among boxing fans.
Jasper Seroka came up against the previously unbeaten Joey Stiglingh in the junior lightweight division, while Kaizer Mabuza and Chris van Heerden contested the vacant IBO welterweight diadem. In these bouts, it became obvious that 17 years into the new South Africa, colour still rules.
Every time Stiglingh fought back the white spectators would be clearly cheering and urging him on. "bliksem hom Papie. Hit him hard", and so on.
Seroka would then do what he did best on the night and the darkies screamed "mshaye. Shay'bhunu". All the time I was wishing they would not say "dubhul' ibhunu".
You know why.
It was the same when Mabuza and Van Heerden slugged it out. Even the result was booed by the black folks while the white guys celebrated. It was good old South Africa once again.
It reminded me of the days when black American boxers were the flavour every time they came to our shores to fight guys like Charlie Weir, Kallie Knoetze, Gerrie Coetzee et al. We would root for Davey Moore, Greg Page, John Tate and be happy, going wild with celebrations. We always saw those fights as a victory over apartheid - as long as the whiteys lost.
Then we had a different scenario. Little Hekkie Budler came in to face Filipino Michael Landero for the IBO strawweight world title. They came in led by their countries' flags carried by two gorgeous women.
Everything changed during the singing of the national anthems. South Africans, black and white, sang in unison and again it was clear that this was now a nation united behind its boy.
He did not disappoint as he won on points. All through the 12-rounder the patriotism was palpable around centre court. We won.
Then we had Venter coming up against another of those Congolese, Simba.
Now, Venter is a boer. That seemed not to tell the Congolese crowd and their upstart a story.
To them Simba is the best thing that has happened since sliced bread.
Needless to say the fight was over within two minutes of the first round with Simba struggling to stand as his knees had clearly turned to jelly.
He had gone for Venter from the first gong, which was his mistake as he was soon forced to the canvas by a powerful sleep-inducing right hook that had all the Mzansi fans on their feet baying for blood.
The Congolese fans, just as their idol, did not know what hit them. We got 'em!
At the end of it all I wondered just what the hell had been going on and realised we had been on a roller-coaster of emotions. Patriotic. Racist. Xenophobic. What else?
You name it.
Ringside emotions ride rollercoaster
LAST weekend I witnessed a crowd of people go through a roller-coaster of emotions. It was actually last Saturday and I was at the Blockbuster boxing extravaganza at Emperor's Palace in Kempton Park.
Before that, I had not been aware there were so many Congolese boxers who have made Mzansi their home.
They also have a stable to themselves and are under the tutelage of local boxing legends like Harold Volbrecht.
A quick glance at the evening's programme describes their home town as Gauteng, while their birthplace is the Democratic Republic of Congo.
This is not a column about xenophobia. It is about observing the behaviour, or is it the reaction, of people at a sporting event that crosses the patriotic and racial divide.
The match-making pitted local pugilists against the foreign invasion. Other bouts saw black South Africans come up against their white counterparts.
The first fight saw Samuel Malinga square up to Bongo Lipemba in the junior welterweight division, while Zack Mwekassa faced the previously undefeated Thabiso Mchunu in a catchweight class and the third between Mzansi and Congo was a heavyweight scrap between Danie Venter and the overrated Flo Simba. It was clear where loyalties lay as the evening progressed.
There were no prizes for guessing who was who as the cheering and encouragement showed who was Congolese and who was South African as the guys exchanged leather.
Lipemba and Mwekassa won their respective fights and taunted their opponents during the bouts.
They were saying you may be the current champions in our divisions but we can and will beat you. That seemed to make some people uncomfortable.
So twice in the evening we were disappointed. The Congolese were one, or is that two, up on us.
What happened next was another situation that showed the racial divide among boxing fans.
Jasper Seroka came up against the previously unbeaten Joey Stiglingh in the junior lightweight division, while Kaizer Mabuza and Chris van Heerden contested the vacant IBO welterweight diadem. In these bouts, it became obvious that 17 years into the new South Africa, colour still rules.
Every time Stiglingh fought back the white spectators would be clearly cheering and urging him on. "bliksem hom Papie. Hit him hard", and so on.
Seroka would then do what he did best on the night and the darkies screamed "mshaye. Shay'bhunu". All the time I was wishing they would not say "dubhul' ibhunu".
You know why.
It was the same when Mabuza and Van Heerden slugged it out. Even the result was booed by the black folks while the white guys celebrated. It was good old South Africa once again.
It reminded me of the days when black American boxers were the flavour every time they came to our shores to fight guys like Charlie Weir, Kallie Knoetze, Gerrie Coetzee et al. We would root for Davey Moore, Greg Page, John Tate and be happy, going wild with celebrations. We always saw those fights as a victory over apartheid - as long as the whiteys lost.
Then we had a different scenario. Little Hekkie Budler came in to face Filipino Michael Landero for the IBO strawweight world title. They came in led by their countries' flags carried by two gorgeous women.
Everything changed during the singing of the national anthems. South Africans, black and white, sang in unison and again it was clear that this was now a nation united behind its boy.
He did not disappoint as he won on points. All through the 12-rounder the patriotism was palpable around centre court. We won.
Then we had Venter coming up against another of those Congolese, Simba.
Now, Venter is a boer. That seemed not to tell the Congolese crowd and their upstart a story.
To them Simba is the best thing that has happened since sliced bread.
Needless to say the fight was over within two minutes of the first round with Simba struggling to stand as his knees had clearly turned to jelly.
He had gone for Venter from the first gong, which was his mistake as he was soon forced to the canvas by a powerful sleep-inducing right hook that had all the Mzansi fans on their feet baying for blood.
The Congolese fans, just as their idol, did not know what hit them. We got 'em!
At the end of it all I wondered just what the hell had been going on and realised we had been on a roller-coaster of emotions. Patriotic. Racist. Xenophobic. What else?
You name it.