MY TRIBUTE TO YOU JAMES

I met you the same way thousands of south African school boys met you – watching you tear down the right hand side of a rugby field with your trade mark run. I watched your provincial debut, your springbok debut and when you landed up coming to Western Province I would sit next to my father at Newlands and watch your every game. As well as win the Currie Cup in 1997, long overdue (11 years) for a passionate Western Province Supporter.

Somewhere between primary school and high school, like many other adoring young rugby players I got to meet you, not once, not twice but a handful of times. I was one of those autograph hunting kids that wanted a picture with James Small. The person you were, enabled me to be able to have a good few. You simply never said no. I soon realised that I could never be James Small on a field, even though as an adolescent I would pretend that I was!

You showed me what it meant to be extra ordinary while I hero worshipped you as a fan. I don’t think there was a single school boy rugby player in South Africa at the time that didn’t have that famous photograph of you Andre Joubert and Joost shirts off and sprinting, on their wall. Just like everyone else, I wanted to sprint like you, look like you, have the same “chutzpah” as you. It wasn’t James Small that wasn’t ready for professional rugby, rugby simply wasn’t ready for what you were about to bring to the party. Destiny is a strange thing if you believe in it. As I got to know you well later in life, like me, you believed in destiny. You were destined to play in the greatest South African rugby match of all time, a match that united a country. Where you were given the impossible task of marking Jonah Lomu. He never got passed you and with that forever will the 1995 World Cup final be remembered, as South Africa showed the world what it meant to be the rainbow nation.

I remember watching the game with my father and late grandfather. Three generations glued to the screen watching you put your heart on your sleeve. My grandfather who was also a tenacious survivor, from Lithuania, said in his broken English that day, “I like our number 14.”

As time past, of course you made headlines, why wouldn’t you have, headlines are only reserved for those that are special. The competitor in the arena makes those, not the critic. A quote we shared while coaching together, in preparation for an all important match, trying to inspire our team…

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

Both of us shared the same sentiment about “those critics.”

I got so much just from looking up to you as a player, I could never have dreamt of coaching against you in the varsity cup, where you and Robert forced me to learn very quickly, with the hiding you dished out in my first VC match. That edge you had, the tenacity, while some misunderstood it, I learnt from it, wanted to grow through it. Then your comments to me over the next two occasions we met on opposite sides, your motivating words after the game which meant so much to me, coming from you, an icon of sa rugby.

You have no idea how inspirational that was.

I remember being so proud after the game when I got to phone my dad and tell him you shook my hand and what you said.

Potential is just potential until someone helps you realise what you are capable of, you provided this for me.

Moving to Johannesburg and realising that your exceptional nephew Kieran would be our fly half at St Johns and seeing a different side of James. Your family values and your love and it’s burning intensity.

James the kind, caring and loving uncle.

We became friends instantly, then coaching partners as you helped me at St Johns and I helped you at Pirates. Bringing me through dark days and boosting my confidence. I was the lucky one that had the best number 14 on my side. The rugby world is a lesser place for not recognizing what you could bring to the coaching world, which I saw first hand when you agreed to be my coaching partner.

A gold and a silver together after a 12 year competition drought, for SA Maccabi. I watched you being so proud of being involved, even though it could never measure up to your rugby achievements you still wore that green and gold Maccabi blazer with such humility.

I had to pinch myself that I got to walk into the opening ceremony in Tel Aviv in front of tens of thousands of people alongside James Small, not only as my coaching partner, but as my friend.

Each time I asked you to chat to my father, who loved watching you play, you would do so. I would just throw you the phone and you would make my old mans evening with your gruff voice, telling him what a chop his son is.

There is a weird emptiness around me, without a whatsap coming through from you saying, “how’s it going my king” and giving me more motivation to keep on keeping on and forget the “misfortune along the way”.

I will miss this tremendously.

I realize it is not everyone that is lucky enough to be able to get to meet and become close friends with their childhood hero. I truly was blessed to have got to know you as more than just a world cup winning springbok, who broke records and was a stand out from the crowd.

Your legacy can not go away.

It is impossible, your amazing family who too are the closest of friends, your nephew who also has your smile and your quads!

I, like the rest that share the admiration of your achievements, will never forget James Small the rugby player, but it is not easy to lose a friend.

To find the words to describe your unfinished coaching business and from my side selfishly the chats at Pirates, Parkhurst on whatsap and various other places, that just simply wont be the same without big James Small being there too.

You supported me from start to finish and I always would ask myself why I got so lucky to have your coaching respect.

Now that you are not there in that regard the road seems that much longer, less wide and tougher, but you have given so much strength to me.

“Just find a way Kev, you can do it…”

I never got to say goodbye I just have a last whatsap from you, which I can not write here but it ends with two laughing faces and a rugby ball, I will cherish that forever.

South Africa has lost something really really special and I have lost a brother.

In thinking about rugby matters and where you are now, there has to be an incredible rugby side being selected to play a big game, I have no doubt that you will be wearing the number 14.

Until we meet again

Rest in Peace Bush