LONG READ 'Who gives a crap?' Animosity towards the Springboks is proof of their dominance

They gathered like a pack of hungry lions at the onset of dusk. Six apex predators revved up and ready to tear lumps out of any hapless Scot who had the misfortune of crossing paths with them. One was a double World Cup winning captain. One was a former World Rugby player of the year. Another had a claim to being the best hooker in the world. Even before the Bomb Squad was unleashed at Murrayfield, a crackle of anticipation rippled through the stands in anticipation.

And yet not everyone is a fan. The Sunday Times’ Stephen Jones is just the latest high-profile figure to take aim at the perfectly legal tactic of loading the bench with hefty forwards and dumping them onto the oppositions’ heads in one go.

“No doubt the actions of Erasmus were arrogant,” said Jones. “He has enough resources to afford arrogance. The Boks are an unlovely bunch to outsiders, Erasmus himself having been given bans for criticising referees.”

Jones’ views smack of baseless antagonism. Rugby has always celebrated large units crashing into other large units. There was similar pearl clutching when the great West Indies cricket team fielded four terrifying quick bowlers. There were similarly misguided takes when African American basketball players routinely dunked on their white NCAA counterparts. This led to the so-called ‘no-dunk’ law between 1967 and 1976 which even at the time was viewed through a racial prism. For South Africans it’s hard to regard Jones’ opinion without a degree of cultural insensitivity.

But let’s play the ball and not the man here and unpack a key talking point Jones’ histrionics raise. Erasmus and his Springboks do not have universal love across rugby’s ecosystem. They have respect, admiration and almost total acceptance they are the best team in the world. Some prominent ‘outsiders’, as Jones would call them, have even claimed the Springboks B side would beat every other nations’ first team.

However, hearts have yet to be won. The Springboks do not elicit the same unmitigated praise as Richie McCaw’s All Blacks and Erasmus knows it. Which is why, on the eve of the Autumn Nations Series, with his team camped in Jersey, the Springboks coach went on the charm offensive.

The players can’t take the blame for what I have done or said or not said. I hope the world sees me trying to change.

“You don’t want to make other people unhappy,” Erasmus told a select group of British journalists on the Channel island. “You don’t want people not to like you. You don’t want people to think you are stubborn. You don’t want people to think you are arrogant, especially if you see the characters in this team.

“It has been years, from the Bakkies Botha era, that [people have said] we are bullies who don’t really care what people think. But we do. I care what people think about the players because they are very good guys. They can’t take the blame for what I have done or said or not said. I hope the world sees me trying to change.”

By his own admission, Erasmus hasn’t helped himself at times. He was already walking a precarious line in press conferences during the 2021 British and Irish Lions tour before that infamous 62-minute video criticising the performance of referee Nic Berry was released. Then during the 2023 World Cup title run, in his new role as director of rugby, Erasmus sent out tweets which had more than a whiff of sexism and xenophobia. Though he never pleaded guilty, he did at least take them down. One could cherry-pick numerous other examples of Erasmus playing the part of pantomime villain.

Not that any of this detracted from his devoted followers back home. To paraphrase Donald Trump, Erasmus could probably shoot someone in the middle of Nelson Mandela Square in Sandton City and not lose any support. The man is practically a saint. There’s a running joke that if he ran for public office he’d win with a landslide. The more titles he accrues the less this idea seems like a gag.

Is this why he is out for some love beyond his borders? More is more, and as he reveals in raw detail in his often moving autobiography, Erasmus wasn’t always showered with love as a child. His father was cold and abusive and, at the risk of veering into pop psychology, this must have had an impact on him.

“He just loves the Springboks so much and he wants as many people in the world to share that love,” explains Matt Proudfoot who worked as one of Erasmus’ assistant coaches during the 2019 World Cup. “The Springboks are really personal for him. He loves them as much as one of his daughters, almost. He doesn’t want animosity directed towards something he’s put his life and soul into. Prejudice is based on fear. So he’s trying to educate the world on what this Bomb Squad tactic is really about.

There’s this thing that happens when teams start doing well, when they become a threat, when they stop being everyone’s second favourite team.

“But I wouldn’t say that he needs to be loved. It’s more of a case that it would be nice to have. But if he doesn’t get it, I don’t think he’d be overly bothered.”

And therein lies the crux of this argument. Erasmus does not need anyone outside of South Africa to love him. The Springboks do not need affection from beyond the tent. Even from a commercial standpoint, where an engaged foreign audience would yield a positive financial return, curiosity, hatred and even contempt are powerful forces on their own and could be enough to compel punters to buy tickets and merchandise around the globe.

And since the Bomb Squad is at the epicentre of so much of this discourse, and is a lightning rod for so much fear and ignorance, it’s worth asking the former Springboks scrum guru for his take.

“I absolutely love it,” Proudfoot says. “I frankly don’t agree with all the bad energy people have towards it. Must we be penalised because we’ve got exceptional rugby players and exceptional depth? Sport is not a level playing field. Must we limit the amount of money that can be spent in each country? Because the pound is stronger than the rand should we cap how much they can spend? I actually find those comments distasteful.

“When Victor Matfield started contesting the line-out there was uproar. When Gary Owen started launching up-and-unders there was uproar. You have to give credit to the innovators who advance the game.

“There’s this thing that happens when teams start doing well, when they become a threat, when they stop being everyone’s second favourite team. Everyone hates Manchester United because of how much they won. It’s weird how these narratives are created.”

So, as Proudfoot argues, the negativity directed towards Erasmus and his team from the likes of Jones is probably rooted in jealousy. They hate us, cos they ain’t us, as Erasmus might claim. Which then leads to a different question entirely: should anyone involved with the Springboks care if they’re regarded as the bad boys of rugby?

“Who gives a crap?” Proudfoot counters. “Seriously, I don’t. And I think deep down most of the guys won’t either. Because they know what they mean to the country and the people back home, what they mean to each other. We love them. They love us. I don’t think anything else really matters.”

And besides, isn’t hostility a sign you’re on top? The fact many neutrals are buoyed by the prospect of a resurgent Wallabies side is proof of Australia’s decline. You’d have struggled to find love for the gold and green abroad during the 1990s and early 2000s. All rugby fans would have respected the work of George Gregan and Stephen Larkham, but love? No chance.

And so I say to the Boks, moenie worry nie. Let the haters hate. Let the poison-penned pundits spew their vitriol. All of this should be regarded as grist to the mill and evidence of your supremacy. Besides, I’d miss it all if it ever went away.