We spent a very busy weekend driving to the opposite side of Johannesburg to watch our youngest play in a hockey tournament against 16 other schools in their pool. They did exceptionally well - the final result being 3rd out of 16 where last year they ended 16th...... Divan had his fair share of goals, and his fair share of injuries too. I watched my son somersault across the astro, intentionally get hit on the shoulder with a hockey stick and play dead in the D......
Since he did so well, and because of the fact that he has never had his own hockey stick, (only hand me downs and second hand buys) his father decided to buy him a state of the art hockey stick.
We walked into the hockey equipment shop at the astro field and started talking to the salesman. I stood in the middle of the little group, surrounded by two interested buyers, and one keen seller. Eventually, after hearing the pros and cons of every make of hockey stick in existence, my man says to the salesman:
"I hope you play hockey" and I can read between the lines "and you aren't selling me a load of hog wash....."
"I do" replies the confident salesman.
"Oh," my man says, looking sceptical, "for who?"
"For South Africa"
My son's face turns into a mask of admiration, my husbands face a mixture of emotions and mine blood red!
While purchasing the stick, I ask my son whether he would like Rassie Pieterse, the goal keeper for the SA team, to sign it for him and am met with a myriad of facial expressions - none of them favourable!
"But then my stick won't look new anymore."
And that's when I decided that I was going to leave the store and hopefully never meet the South African goalie again.
