Tom English - This is Your Everest: The Lions, the Springboks and the Epic Tour of 1997

THIS IS YOUR

EVEREST

THIS IS YOUR

EVEREST

THE LIONS, THE SPRINGBOKS AND
THE EPIC TOUR OF 1997

TOM ENGLISH
PETER BURNS

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Text copyright Tom English and Peter Burns, 2021

ISBN: 9781913538125
eBook ISBN: 9781913538132

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Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.

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CONTENTS

To my lovely mum, Anne, for everything.
TE

To Julie, Isla and Hector.
PB

A Lion in South Africa is special.
The Lions are special; the legends go with it.

IAN McGEECHAN

PROLOGUE

IN A CONFERENCE room deep in the bowels of the Lions team hotel in Cape Town, Jim Telfer was positioning chairs, setting them out in rows, then in a single line, muttering to himself the whole time, oblivious to the camera trained upon him. Weve got to be sharp as a fucking knife... Theres no way we go back... We take every step forward...

Preparing his final address before the Lions ran out to play South Africa in Newlands in the first Test of the momentous summer of 1997, Telfer was in a world of his own. For more than a month he had pushed his players harder than hed ever pushed players before and that was saying something. Just behind him there was a flip chart. On it he had written some put-downs taken directly from the South African press. Meat and drink to the great man.

Hadnt he feasted on this stuff when coaching Scotland to a Grand Slam in 1984, hadnt he made hay with talk of Englands supremacy when assisting Ian McGeechan in another Scottish Slam in 1990? Some of the South African newspapers had written off the Lions and it was those headlines that Telfer gravitated towards. Hed heard all that bombast before. Every last word.

Their weak point is the scrum

The Boks must exploit this weakness

The Boks must concentrate on the eight-man shove every scrum

Scrummaging will be the key

Their weakness is the scrum

He surveyed the room. Straightened a chair and checked his watch. The forwards would be here soon. Everest, he whispered. This is your fucking Everest...

*

Across the city at the Cape Sun Hotel, Springbok head coach Carel du Plessis was preparing to give his own team talk to a group of players whod already started having silent misgivings about him. Nice guy, but talked in riddles sometimes. A Springbok playing legend, but what did he know about going head-to-head with the McGeechans and the Telfers of this world? And what was that bullshit he said when appointed to the gig only a few short months ago? You dont need to have coached to be able to coach the Springboks. All you need is vision and I have the vision.

The vision that the Boks appreciated the most was that of an opponent bent double in a scrum or disorientated in a ruck, a man broken in body and mind by the relentless men in green and gold. They understood brute force and physical domination, some of the qualities that had made them world champions two years before. They had issues with their coach but they also had certainty about their ability to win regardless. They had too much power up front, too much class behind. To a man they were cocksure they had the artillery to put the Lions to sleep.

These uppity Lions travelling around the country beating up the provinces with their flowing rugby and their easy style. These tourists who thought they were something because they rolled over some weakened sides. Thirty-eight points against Western Province, forty-two points against Natal, fifty-one points against the Emerging Springboks, sixty-four points against Mpumalanga.

That was peace-time, though. This was war. Os du Randt, Naka Drotske and Adrian Garvey the Lions had not scrummaged against such an awesome force before, not this summer, not ever. In behind them, Hannes Strydom and Mark Andrews world champions, both. In the back row, Ruben Kruger, Andr Venter and Gary Teichmann aggression, athleticism, class.

The Lions had shown they could play, but the Springboks werent in any mood to let them. This was fifteen versus fifteen, but really it was eight versus eight. The series would be decided in the forward battle and the Boks had more beasts than any game reserve. I dont believe in false modesty, Andrews had said. I can, without blushing, say that Im the greatest forward in my position on the planet.

Andrews was asked about Martin Johnson, the towering Lions captain. Ive heard a lot about him, he said. I just hope he can live up to what is written about him. He could get very demoralised if it doesnt work out. That day in Cape Town was when Andrews and his band of bruisers intended to show Johnson and his Lions what Springbok rugby was all about.

CHAPTER ONE

THE DEATH OF DANIEL BONGANE

ON THE DOORNKOP farm in the conservative hotbed of Western Transvaal, Jan Tromp and his son Henry were judge and jury when it came to allegations of petty theft among the labourers on their payroll. Daniel Bongane was black and sixteen years old when he found himself accused of stealing seventy-five rand about eleven quid from a fellow worker. To the Tromps there was only one way to settle this. They produced a fan belt, got two other farmhands to hold the boy down and then took it in turns to use it as a lash on Bongane, Tromp Snr hitting the teenager five times, Tromp Jnr delivering twice as many blows, each one more savage than the next.

Bongane bled to death. The Tromps were brought up on a charge of manslaughter and were sentenced to two years apiece for assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm. An appeal court cut the punishment in half. In the end they did four months and returned to their old life. For Henry Tromp, in his mid-twenties, that old life was part farmer, part rugby player. And not just any rugby player. Tromp was a hooker with a burgeoning reputation, a player of mighty strength, mobility and promise. It was 1993 and in two years time South Africa would host the World Cup, their first appearance in the tournament since emerging from sporting isolation. Tromp was a live contender to make the squad, until that business with Bongane an altercation as one newspaper with apartheid-leaning tendencies put it at the time.