the value

story about victory coupled with disappointment and defeat. the shattering of dreams through unparalleled pressure

Aren’t you training today?” asked Skhumbuzo’s grandfather with the slightest of interest. “Oh no, I’m due for an appointment with my GP this afternoon. Hitting the track would exacerbate my condition,” he replied with drive and alertness. Old khulu was a powerful sprinter in his day and had imparted lots of knowledge to his grandson, his protégé.

A provincial junior competition was to be hosted by Skhumbuzo’s hometown of Mandeni in a month’s time. The local authorities were known for their pride and boastfulness in the athletics arena. They had produced true champions in different formats and since they were to play host, nothing more than a convincing display and resounding victory would complement their ego. “Are those legs fit and ready? Is Mandeni going to be crowned provincial champions?” asked one of the city’s officials. Skhu would often get a call from the city management at least twice a week, “Ready as I’ll ever be Sir!” he replied with vigour and confidence. “Play far away from those women, you heard?” warned the official.

In his junior years the young athlete was touted as the next king of Kwa-Zulu Natal. He set record times all through the years as a junior and this year a lot was expected. The only difference this time was that it was an Open Championship; if he were to lose it would mean that his previous victories counted for little. Sponsors were always on the lookout for potential talent and no other stage was more appropriate. “I feel like this victory is my swansong to the many spectators that have supported me all through the years including the trying times in my career!” he uttered to his mentor. His grandfather knew the implications of such a statement.

Training was more intensifying by the day as the Championship edged closer. Decorators  began to work their magic en route to the Sbusisiwe Stadium; one could feel that there was no turning back. It didn’t matter much if other divisions were narrowly contested; all they were interested in was the Open Race in the 100 metre sprint. “Win that and your name will be engraved into the City’s Hall of FAME” the mandate remained resolute and unchanged. The young man was beginning to feel the pressure but did his best to remain his composed self. The local media created an interest around the pending games. A journalist from a local paper had asked to write mini-biography on Skhu but his stubborn grandfather refused citing loss of focus as the reason behind his decision.

Two weeks left and even a toddler who had never heard of Skhumbuzo Zulu began to gather behind the aspirant champion. The city had sponsored adverts on television and radio, distributed pamphlets encouraging people to come out in their numbers to show support. The hype had certainly been turned up and the buzz was visible all over the town and surrounding areas. Matters on the training field were well on course and no derailing of the goal was in sight. The City made available, all resources within their means, to the youngster. They would go beyond their measures to satisfy the needs of the young athlete. Just how attached the City had managed to become after a short period was a question on everyone’s lips.

The Championship was to be held on the Saturday of the first day of May. On the Monday in the training venue, Skhu and his grandfather were having a torrid time as it was raining cats and dogs. No end to disruptive weather was perceivable. Conditions were not suitable for even basic light training. The team of two tried to contact the City officials but to no avail. “They are dropping us at the last minute” Skhu cried foully. However, that wasn’t the case. The city had been in negotiations with a High Performance Centre for the preparations to go undisturbed. They fortunately secured a spot for their champion athlete. After a few hours he received a call informing him that his coach and he could leave on the Monday afternoon. The City studied weather patterns for the week and were convinced that preparations would be severely compromised with the inclement weather conditions.  The great lengths at which the City was engaging in was unprecedented and their actions caught many by surprise. Former champions were in praise of the city’s efforts save one. A champion of the early 80s had visited a local radio station and lamented the city’s blatant show of support, citing that their affection for the young sprinter would compromise unity in the camp. These remarks, however notorious, had a tad of truth and realism.

 He returned home on the Friday, late in the evening to a spectacular welcome, even members of staff from his high school and fellow classmates made an effort to show support. The welcome was overwhelming and it was smiles all round from mentor to protégé and all in between. Little did the crowd and management know that the happy faces were fake pretences. The night was going to be the longest the young man had ever endured. Journo’s got a slice of him at the anticipatory gathering and not even trusted veteran sports reporters could pick up telling signs that all was not well. The pride of town was not his usual self, only he had knowledge of the imminent revelation. “I’ve waited all my life to produce champion material, what an achievement!” said the mayor closing his short unscripted speech.

 Everything in the regional area was about sport; the city’s residents were in love with their sport and were determined on proving their loyalty to their hometown sporting heroes. The community was fully behind all participants, this was visible on the penultimate night of the long-awaited event. The words of a political activist in the community: “If victorious, be humble and dignity should partner defeat. The community and I wish you well tomorrow” he spoke these words to a rousing applause. The last speaker had a few words of encouragement: “Ke nako boys and girls, you carry the hopes and aspirations of this community on your shoulders. Go out there and make us proud tomorrow!” the message was clear and needed no translation. The MC subsequently ended the programme and led the cheerful crowd in song. Unity was visible from all corners and the gathering was a success.

On the way home, Skhu listened to music to try and calm himself down. His mentor had ordered that he switch off his cell phone and maintain focus. When he got home, his mother offered him an embrace and patted him on the back. His mother seldom performed this act but did it on special occasions, acting on instinct, such as when her son had been invited to Cape Town for rugby trials. Skhu was vastly talented and his mother did at every turn remind him of the importance of humility. Growing up, the young athlete was boastful about his talents and would often tease his counterparts whenever he triumphed over them. He had even developed a tendency to not partake in sporting activities involving his friends because, as he put it: “Playing with amateurs will not only weaken my game but it would also ruin my reputation” these words irked listeners but he was oblivious to the fact.

Months of exhausting, mentally draining and gruelling preparation had come down to just one race, he thought to himself. His fellow competitors had undergone counselling sessions all in an effort to knock him off his perch. A lot of funding had gone into ensuring thorough preparation. Messages of support were displayed all around his room and this served as a reminder of the love the community had for him. The many best wishes counted for nothing if he were to come second best. He was well aware of the preparations that had gone into organising the event. Everyone in town eagerly anticipated the start of the games. These moments were his last before he took centre stage. His heart was filled with anxiety and desire.

“Good morning, son!” his mother cheerfully greeted. He was half asleep at the time which was strange as he usually woke up at 6 o’ clock. “How are you, Mom?” he routinely enquired. “I should be asking you that, dear” his mother was genuinely concerned about Skhu’s mental state. No one knew the youngster better than his mother. She was deternimned not to express concern, her son would have no one to turn to if ever she were to raise her concerns. A support system is something that stands the test of time and attaches no condition. Mom Betty fitted this assertion perfectly, he thought to himself. “Mom, I love you and thank you for all that you have done in my sporting career. You have been the tower that never submerges but stands through the toughest of times, unmoved and unparalleled!” he said these words to a sweet sob.

The city organised the transportation of Skhu to the stadium, he was very well catered for. All he needed to do was win the final event of the day, one that would captivate the imagination of the spectators for many years. This year it would be no different, one could tell by the very hype surrounding the day how special and anticipated the race was in the lead-up to the day. There was a general feeling of entitlement from the hometown faithful that as hosts, they deserved that as hosts, they deserved to walk away with top-prize. What they didn’t know, was the disappointment if they fell short of their goal. The old and young; haves and have-nots, active and inactive had a keen interest on the final proceedings of the day.

 The local mayor declared proceedings open by launching a medium-sized rocket into the air. It was smiles all round as participants gathered with their management for a final briefing. The day was bright and sunny. The ingredients were well mixed to make for a fulfilling and memorable spectacle. The supporters present in the sands capped it all off. Nothing but black and blue regalia could be visible, the hometown crowd were determined to outnumber the visiting fans. Announcement was made of an all-day competition that would see the most energetic and vibrant supporter walk home with a T.V. set.

The U/9 group took to the field first. And down the order the different age groups competed. The U/17’s made for a great spectacle as they were competitive and unpredictable. There was no better curtain raiser than the much anticipated Open men’s challenge. The crowd was up on their feet throughout the day and even though visibly tired, they weren’t going to miss the last event for the world. “This is what I’ve looked forward to all day!” whispered Skhu’s mother to a friending the grandstands. The ladies Open 100m race was the penultimate event. Thandeka Mnisi of Mandeni took first position, after much deliberation by the judges. The feeling in the crowd was that it was a tie. “Whether you win by a mile or an inch, a win is a win!” she told a journo after the race.

THE STAGE WAS SET for an enthralling finish. The Open Boys had lined up in the starting blocks. The energetic and charismatic crowd had done well to set the scene. The fans chanted the hometown favourite with vigour(it was as if he had won). He looked nervous but this was a usual sense before a race. He occupied lane 5 and it was clear from the stands the admiration from his opponents. He kept jumping up and down, running about to loosen his muscles for the upcoming challenge. His mentor went over to him and said the following: “You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow cause opportunity comes once in a lifetime!”. The sponsors were up on their feet waiting patiently for a rough diamond to shine. Just as he took his last preparatory jump he could feel discomfort on his left ankle but paid no attention to it.

Mr Nzuza, mayor of the Mandeni Municipality held the shotgun in the air with the deputy alongside him holding the megaphone. The deputy announced: “Get on your marks. Get set. The race will in start in 3, 2, 1”. A few moments passed and the gun was fired to signal the start of the 100m race. Skhu enjoyed a brief 25m lead before he was overtaken by a lesser known Sam Zwane who held the lead to the finish line. Skhu suffered the first defeat of his illustrious career due to an ankle dislocation, he subsequently ended the race in third place. Certainly not the fairy-tale ending the crowd had hoped for.

It later emerged that Skhu injured himself while training at the High Performance Centre, just three days before the competition, even his grandfather was unaware. After his loss the crowd didn’t wait for prize-giving. The trophy hand-outs were ceremoniously done in a sombre mood in front of a small crowd, the exodus of the supporters saw only a few remain behind. Only a quarter of the initial crowd watched till the end. Skhu will forever be remembered as the athlete who couldn’t travel the complete mile, who just fell short of glory. No one could believe what had transpired as high hopes had been instantaneously deflated. All who tried to show empathy were met with hostility. His friends deserted him when he needed them most, he had no one but his mother to turn to and keep hi company. A hero turned villain summed his athletic life. He never took part in competitive athletics for 5 years, a clear indication of the mental damage the defeat caused .Skhu has aspirations to become coach one day and he knows better than most the significance of humility. What goes up must come down. Maybe the community will reconcile with the disappointment of that fateful race one day….

I,SDUDUZO ZUNGU , DECLARE THAT THIS IS MY ORIGINAL WORK. NO REFERNCE MADE HEREIN IS AN ADAPTATION OF PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED WORK.

Author's Note

first attempt from an inexperienced novice