When the game loses its soul: How professionalism is breaking more than just bones

A COUPLE of tremors ran through the South African sporting circles recently; events that shook some of our more die-hard, passionate sports fans.

Firstly, Hollywoodbets Sharks and Springbok enforcer Eben Etzebeth was sidelined due to head trauma during a practice session, and on top of this, and seemingly unrelated, Proteas firebrand Heinrich Klaasen decided to call it a day.

A report in the Afrikaans newspaper Rapport has revealed that Klaasen’s original plan was to play on until the 2027 Cricket World Cup, but he decided to call it quits, saying that he hadn’t been enjoying his cricket for a while.

The fire sometimes fizzles

When passion dies, it takes a lot to resurrect it, if that ever happens. Yes, when you lose that spark for something you truly loved, and that pursuit you once thrilled in becomes a dull routine, there is no keener form of torture than to keep doing it simply because you are good at it, and others, cheering you on, appreciate it.

This happened to me around 20 years ago. Back then, I was passionate about art – revelled in it. I would spend hours transferring the images in my mind onto different media.

Of course, I had my adoring fans, and with this adulation comes, unfortunately, an inflated ego, and that horrible little gremlin called “Ambition”, or better known by his nickname, “Greed”.

I say this because around that time, someone came along who offered to promote my work, take me to the next level, put my name and my work on the map. He had money as well as confidence; he spoke a good game, and I bit! I have only myself to blame.

Long story short, this backer had no idea of what happens in the art world – zero – and as it turns out, all he wanted was for me to create a few “samples” of my work for “marketing purposes”. In the end, and much too late, I learned that all Mr Moneybags wanted was some freebies. As soon as my work was hanging on his walls, he seemed to lose interest.

I put down my artsy instruments and walked away from something that had become almost, for lack of a better word, repulsive to me.

Losing enjoyment in the game

Reading between the lines, one sees this a lot. A player on top of their game just loses steam and decides to walk away. Think of AB de Villiers and Dean Elgar, to name just two.

Sometimes – though it’s not said, and I have to tread very carefully in saying this – the reasons for the pulverised passion can come because of boardroom shenanigans, the behind-the-scenes shuffles, that Joe Public is seldom privy to. At times, players could feel that they were overlooked for what they perceive to be unfair reasons, and that kills their fire.

Hard knocks in tough sports

Other times, and far more seriously, the fire is extinguished by unfortunate, and sometimes freak injuries. For example, think of how Steven Kitsoff’s career came to a sudden dead stop.

Then there’s what happened to Etzebeth. Bok fans will be hoping that the knock he took will not slow him down, but it should remind us that our superheroes, as tough, toned and terrific as they are on the field of play, are only human. 

In fact recently, I came across some research where writer Kathy Malherbe suggests that repeated head injuries in contact sports like rugby are causing serious long-term brain damage, including conditions like early-onset dementia, Parkinson’s, and Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE).

These days, rugby’s culture is under scrutiny following a major lawsuit by former players accusing governing bodies of negligence around concussion protocols. The disease CTE, only diagnosable after death, has been found in over 90% of NFL [American Football] brains studied in recent research, indicating a deep-rooted issue.

Modern imaging technologies like MRI and DTI are enhancing the diagnosis of hidden brain trauma, while smart mouthguards – now mandatory at elite level – detect dangerous impacts and trigger live alerts to medical teams.

In response, World Rugby and SA Rugby launched the world’s first Brain Health Service to support former South African players, offering assessments, education, and specialist referrals.

That is brilliant news.

Something sinister beyond the glamour

However, there’s a nagging concern for me; one that goes deeper than protecting our superstars from breaking down – and though I might be sounding like an old gramophone record by now, indulge me.

All I’d be interested to know is whether athletes are being driven, and driving themselves beyond the limit of human capabilities and outside the realm of enjoyment due to professionalism in sport.

Big paydays for athletes come at a cost. Investors don’t want to feel like they are throwing their money away; return on investment is key! So sportsmen have to give 100% and the kitchen sink to keep the cash registers pinging.

These days – and this is my personal, biased, skewed opinion – sport has taken a back seat to how lucrative the entertainment can be, and how much capital can be generated.

How can I make such an assertion?

If it were about sports, and the thrill of the competition, don’t you think that more money would have been diverted to community sports development? Is it not possible that sports facilities, fields and clubhouses would be better maintained and utilised? Would educators or community coaches not have been supported in their efforts to start, or even maintain, a small sports club – be it rugby, soccer, cricket, hockey or even chess?

I think the fact that community competition is so rare, even bordering on extinction, these days is because passion was killed by big promises made by wealthy “investors” that had neither the game nor the athletes’ best interest at heart. Much like I experienced with my love for art.

There is still hope

But all is not doom and gloom and darkness.

Recently, I have started sketching again, but this time for myself, and I am enjoying the experience again. Passion has returned, and dare I say so myself, I am actually a better artist now than I was 22 years ago. 

But here’s the thing, some offers have come along to buy some of my work, but I have learned that the possibility of big money can bring big disappointment. So for now, my art is just a hobby, just a way to relax, unwind, and appreciate something I enjoy.

If only our youth could learn to try to get back onto the fields again; not to reach the pinnacle of sporting fame, but just for the enjoyment of the game, whatever that game may be.