After Mashamplane’s death, I sobered up and thought of the promise I had made to my father about going back to the gym. One Saturday morning two weeks after the funeral, I felt like going for a jog for the first time in a long while. I went jogging along Standerton Road. It took me about two hours, but I came back cleansed and refreshed.

When I crossed the Main Road and slowly walked into Ekuthuleni, I noticed a grey bakkie parked outside my father’s house. I wondered who it might be. For a second I prayed that my past hadn’t caught up to me, not now when I was turning over a new leaf. But as I walked closer to the bakkie, I heard voices coming from the front seat. I recognised one of the voices, but I figured my ears must be deceiving me. But they weren’t, it really was the great man himself, coach Dawie Theron. With him was the coach of the South African under-twenty rugby team, Cobus van Dyk, and the captain of that team, Rooney Adams.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My father came out of the house and the three gentlemen stepped out of the bakkie. We greeted each other and coach Dawie introduced the other two to M’dala.

When we were done with the formalities, coach Dawie Theron turned to me with a smile. “My boy, how have you been? I see you’re working out again!” he exclaimed.

I shook my head. “Nah coach, I just started today but I’ll keep pushing hard as you’ve taught me.”

His eyes glimmered with hope. “You will, won’t you my boy?” he asked.

“Yes coach,” I said confidently.

Coach Dawie went on. “I’m glad that you’re sticking to our old patterns, practicing what I have taught you. You know you’ve always been one of my favourites.” He paused, looking at the other two men. “Actually, that’s what brings me here. In six months there will be try-outs for the South African under-twenty rugby team and I want you to come and train with us, so you too can get a shot at wearing that badge,” he said and pointed to captain, Rooney Adams.

Rooney Adams smiled. “But for you to do that, you’ll have to come and train with us,” he said, looking me in the eyes. “And we’ll see if you can keep up and live up to your name as ‘Ranger, the bone crusher’ – or has he passed on to myth?” he asked and they all chuckled.

I felt I had no other option but to take this second shot at life. I trained my ass off in those six months, but I did take occasional breaks to spend time with Shambula. I hadn’t taken her on that date yet but we enjoyed each other’s company.

“Hey Ranger, how’s training going?” she would ask every time she stopped by after work at the bank, where she had recently been promoted.

But it still bugged me even though she never brought it up. It seemed we were taking things slow, getting to know each other.

I finally confided in coach Dawie about my situation with Shambula.

“I hear you my boy. So you’ve found yourself a lovely girl. I think you should invite her to the black-tie event next week. It’s a fundraiser to honour rugby veterans,” coach Dawie said. “I’ll get you an invitation.”

I nudged him gratefully. “I bet she’ll love that. I’ll invite her after today’s practice. Thanks again, coach!”

“Happy to help, sport!” he exclaimed.

I wore a black tux and picked Shambula up in a rented limo from her parents’ house in Parabulla. When the limo pulled up outside, the front door opened and she stepped out looking like a million bucks in a red gown and high heels. She was so beautiful, all natural, with her hair in an afro like a crown.

Coach was forever smiling when he met Shambula. “Hey, young lady, you’ve been such a great support to my boy. I’m glad you’re with Ranger because you seem like a lovely person.”

Shambula smiled. “Thanks coach, I do my best!”

Shambula and I felt like we were on top of the world. As we drove back to Mrova in the rented limo, we kept glancing into each other’s eyes.

“So you’re coming to watch me play in the try-outs tomorrow, right?” I spoke first.

Shambula smiled. “After a date like that, I would go to the moon to watch you play!” she said.

“Well then, Shambula, I should have lassoed the moon for you a long time ago,” I grinned.

She came closer and looked deep into my eyes. “I love you,” she said and gave me a deep, passionate kiss on the lips.

The morning of the try-outs was windy, but not to cold. I was more than ready to reclaim my place on the field, not just as ‘Ranger, the bone crusher’ but as Thabo ‘Ranger’ Mtsweni.

After warm-up, I rushed from my Number 8 position on the field to the stands to greet Shambula, Magogo and M’dala, who had come in with coach Dawie. With my family and loved ones there, I knew my ancestors were not too far behind.

When the whistle blew, I felt the strength of those ancestors running through me. The ball flew into my hands and I ran like a cheetah, my legs and chest burning. I was a few metres away from the try line, with four players on my heels, when a tall guy with freckles came charging into me, trying to knock me down. But it was a sloppy tackle and I managed to stretch forward as I fell and put the ball down behind the line.

Coach Dawie got up from his seat, shouting. “That’s my boy! That’s how a game is won!”

The people were cheering and the vuvuzelas blowing, they actually reminded me of my number one fan and best buddy. For a sweet second I wished as if Mashamplane were there in the crowd cheering along with the fans. I had lost a friend and nearly lost my own life – now I would play like my life depended on it.

I dusted myself off and went back at it. My efforts assured me a spot in the South African under-twenty rugby team. I suppose a game was won after all, one of many in the game of life.

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