By Grant
In Tokyo, Japan in Autumn 2019, Delphine and I attended the opening game of the Rugby World Cup tournament between South Africa and New Zealand. We lost, but I remember telling Delphine that I thought we were the better team and that we could still win the World Cup. I don’t think she really believed it, but that story is history now. And what a fantastic memory it was. My great friend Bernard Talijaard (Riem) came to join me to watch the semifinals and the final that year, which we obviously won. But the promise was made that if we came close again in France four years later, he would come and join us because I was sure I was going to be there.
Many months ago, I planned to go to France to watch the quarterfinals. I was certain we would make it to this stage. Planning the family, boat, and life with so many moving parts is very challenging, but we were able to safely get Arabella into a marina in the Whitsundays on the northeast coast of Australia. The plan was for Delphine and me to drop the kids in Hong Kong with grandparents and then we continue onto France. A week before we were to fly, Delphine decided that I should go to France alone and just have fun with the boys. She was right that it was pretty much all boys and drinking, but I did miss her terribly. Every morning, while licking my wounds from the night before, I struggled with the aftereffects of night after night of intense social gatherings, catching up with friends I had not seen for a long, long time. It was a very, very dramatic change from the guy who had chosen not to drink for five months prior. I missed having my compass alongside me. I missed having common sense prevail.
But my darling wife had other ideas. After we landed in HK, she went to see her orthopedic doctor to check her hips which had been giving her pain. Then just days after my arrival in Europe, she told me her doctor could operate her hips the next week and she would have double hip replacement surgery. Yikes! Yes, I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t believe it would happen so fast. She told me to stay in France because she had all the support in the world.
I did stay in France, which makes me an awful husband, but I couldn’t have even made it back in time. I know that I should have gone back, but I didn’t. I stayed to watch the game and quietly hoped we would lose that first quarterfinal game so I could return home to be at my lovely wife’s bedside. However, the two quaterfinals in Paris were possibly the greatest two games I have ever watched, and at the time of writing this, they are still the greatest two games I have watched. Firstly, the Ireland vs All Blacks game, which I watched with Dave and his Kiwi mates, was incredible, but only to be eclipsed by the game South Africa played against France. I invited my dear friend Luc (French), Doug Jackson (South African living in Portugal), and Marc Tudhope (South African living in London) to come and join me for the game. From the moment we arrived at the stadium to the drinks at the Rendezvous Bar, listening to Afrikaans folk songs, to the result, it just set the tone for the next 18 days of debaucherous fun. For men (who sometimes behave like boys), the experience of getting together and watching sports in a live setting is a truly bonding experience. I have felt this many times in my life, but few compare to supporting our national rugby team, the Springboks. It obviously helps that we are a good team, but it also matters tremendously the people you choose to enjoy them with. And in this case, I couldn’t have picked nicer friends. What a spectacular weekend, where we stayed in a really cool Airbnb arranged by Dave, and everything from the train journey to the lunches to the dinners was perfect.
This weekend was also the confirmation that a few other beautiful South African gentlemen (big word and maybe not appropriate) would be planning to join us for the final. Bernard Talijaard, Grant Paxton, and Stuart Curtis – three of my dearest friends in the world. After many wines and whiskies, we told them to get their visas in order because they would be coming to the final. Watching them go through the hurdles of visa applications and flight bookings will remain imprinted in my head. There was a sense of panic and determination where these boys were not going to fail. But we still had a semifinal to win, and that was not going to be any walkover. But let’s not get ahead of the story.
Monday morning arrived, and I needed to return to London. A full week of meeting friends and doing a little work was in order. I was lucky that two of my closest friends, neither of whom live in London, agreed to fly in and see me: Filip, the larger-than-life Croatian, and Alex, the smoother-than-Slane-Whiskey Irishman. Both of these lovely gentlemen shared an insatiable appetite for having a good time. Needless to say, we had two debaucherous nights of unadulterated fun. However, I soon realized my almost schoolboy error: I hadn’t allocated any rest days for myself. This became a recurring theme which I will elaborate on later.
This week also marked Delphine’s surgery. It was a terribly traumatic experience for her, as she had never been under anesthesia before and was well aware of the risks involved. The surgery lasted almost six hours. Luckily everything went smoothly, credit to Dr. Jason Brockwell for doing a marvelous job. It has now been five weeks and five days, and she is gradually feeling better with each passing day. In another week, she will be back aboard Arabella, sailing with us.
The week rushed by, much like reading this post (hehe). With the Semis being played on Friday and Saturday, there was no time for relaxation, and soon I was en route back to Paris to meet Schalk Britz, who had invited me for the Semis. However, he failed to mention that we would be sharing a room. The last time I shared a room with another man was probably before I was even a man myself. Nevertheless, it was quite sweet and cuddly, an intimacy I will never forget. Schalk even managed to capture my nighttime sounds and share them with various groups on WhatsApp. So Schalk! When we weren’t spending quality time in our room, he was inviting me to various drinks and dinners. Two of these were particularly memorable. The first was meeting Jason Robinson, Danny Chaney, and a bunch of others. It was an absolutely world-class crowd, very inclusive and unafraid of having a good time. Later, during halftime and after the game, they smuggled me into the Mastercard hospitality area. It was a wonderful experience with wonderful people, who weren’t too upset when South Africa beat them in the Semi. Truth be told, I think they were probably just happy to have made it that far, but the one-point affair was nerve-wrecking, to say the least. As good as the previous weekend’s games were, the two this weekend were forgettable. Only the fact that we almost lost will be remembered by me. What I do remember is that Luc made another trip down to France to join me, and Luc, Schalk, and the rest of the gang had another epic Paris weekend.
Sunday was supposed to be a day for playing golf, but it didn’t materialize. Frankly, it wasn’t a terrible thing because I was in dire need of rest, which unfortunately never happened. This brings me to the second terribly memorable event that Schalk arranged. He invited me to join a few of his rugby mates at a local restaurant. I arrived a bit late and enjoyed a nice 10km walk there. Thankfully, I was late because the boys were already quite intoxicated. But what a crowd it was! I’m not typically starstruck, but what a bunch of legends: Bryan Habana, John Smit, Victor Matfield, Hanyani Shimange (Shimmy) from the old Boks, Justin Marshall, James Haskell, Mike Tindall, and a few others whose names I can’t recall at the moment. Even the divisive Owen Farrell showed up. Bottle after bottle of Magnum Rosé came and went as quickly as they arrived. What a fun Sunday, although it wasn’t what I had planned. Truly memorable. Thank you, Schalk. It was a lekker fun time, especially watching the old Kiwi scrum half quietly (and not so quietly) get lost and found. I think you get my meaning.
On Monday, I caught a train to Strasbourg to visit Luc and the family. Finally, some quiet family time. But somehow, even this ended late with a few whiskeys. Perhaps it’s me who is the problem?
But the trip to Luc’s home was more about catching up with Karin and the kids (Nathalie and Sofia). We had great deep conversations about life, work, politics, and the future of the world. We also promised to make sure the families connect next year in the Maldives. That’s our mission and promise to each other. There are friends, and then there are friends. Some feel like hard work at times, and others you can easily not see forever, but Luc is the kind of friend that makes you really want to see him again soon, and the minute you say goodbye, you miss him already. Thank you, my friend, for being such an amazing guy and friend. I love your family to pieces. Let’s not fail in our promise.
Now, for some boat shopping. Delphine and I have often spoken about what boat we would get when this journey is complete. Obviously, we are boat people, and planning for this day is very important. After all, boats can take up to 3 years to build and commission properly. So, we are planning for 2026 now, and I decided to go check a few boat options. The first stop was Marseille to see the first Fontaine Pajot 80-foot catamaran, which has recently been launched. Replacing Arabella with the new bigger and better version is a serious option. We love Arabella, and there is no reason we wouldn’t love a new, bigger version. Yves from FP met me and showed me around the boat. Her space and space planning is amazing, and a few new innovations make her a very unique possibility. However, some real quality issues especially in the bathroom, makes me wonder if they really want to be a quality boatyard.
After Marseille, I went to Montpelier to see the first Gunboat 72 with a flybridge. An amazing team of people met me there, and I really enjoyed my visit. I was hosted in an awesome fashion, and the boat was incredible. The quality was beyond anything I have seen, and I can honestly say I loved it. More on all of this in another post. But for now, it was back to Paris on the train to meet my friends from South Africa who were coming in hot on the plane and ready to party in Paris.
I arrived in a cold and wet Paris on Friday evening. The boys (Riem, Grant, Stuart, De Wet) had arrived on Thursday, and I purposely didn’t come to Paris on Thursday. It was best to let them blow off some steam on their first day. However, that didn’t really help me because they were still full steam on Friday. After dropping the luggage at the massive apartment we had booked in central Paris on the Champs-Élysées, I met up with the boys, and we had a solid night of catching up. Saturday morning came, and the beers were flowing from breakfast. The buildup was just like a movie director would script it. Waking up in an apartment with your mates is part of the experience. It’s so much better than hotel rooms, and we made the absolute most of this experience. The apartment became the hub of all our activities over the weekend, and many other friends came over to join us. But Saturday morning brought some trepidation among us all, and we discussed our chances throughout the day. I must admit, though, that the general consensus was that we were going to win. It’s not often that a South African fan believes he will win against the All Blacks.
We headed out for a late brunch, followed by an amazing lunch with the rest of our touring party, Doug and his son Calvin. This was the real beginning of the buildup, and that’s when the banter really began. I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of guys. Everything was just wonderful, and even the rain was staying away. Did we have a chance???
After lunch, we decided to head straight to the Rendezvous Bar outside the stadium. It was packed as usual, but we managed to get our drinks and met and chatted with so many people, some famous and some not so famous. I can’t remember them all because it all feels like a blur. But we found Craig Stanley and Marco Wensel. We also finally connected with Big Alex and his friends. It was really building up to be the epic event we all now know it turned out to be.
Very few things can compare to sharing this win with my friends, especially Riem, who watched South Africa win the Rugby World Cup in Japan four years ago with me. It was honestly too good to even be in a movie script. This was something I will never truly be able to explain in words. I’m just not a good enough writer, and I don’t have the vocabulary to properly describe it.
Thank you, friends, for giving me the most incredible three weeks of fun and games with all of you.
Thank God the World Cup is only every four years!