About all that James Dalton and Tendai Mtawarira have in common is that both inhabited the front row of the Springbok team — though years apart — and that their biographies have been timed for the same Christmas.
Even the writing is a contrast. Bullet: The James Dalton Story by Mark Keohane is full of robust, crash-ball verbs and startling revelations; Beast: Tendai Mtawarira with Andy Capostagno is more subtle and at times even gentle. Keohane’s prose is Damian de Allende at full tilt; Capostagno’s more like Cheslin Kolbe slipping tackles.
There have been other contrasting characters in Springbok rugby, but never as stark in print as these two. The Beast is God-fearing, self-effacing and with a love of hip-hop, R&B and gospel. The Bullet is none of that; more sex, drugs and rock ’n roll.
Dalton’s is a page-turner; Mtawarira’s a leisurely holiday ramble.
Much as he did in his playing days, Dalton shows little restraint. A man who is prepared to reveal the names of minors in a divorce settlement (possibly in violation of the Children’s Act) is not likely to hold back on anyone.
Jake White, his coach at Jeppe, “was a self-serving mute” when Dalton was in trouble for fighting in a schools’ match. “I needed my coach to stand tall for me but he was dwarfed in the presence of the headmaster.” It is an early instance of Dalton playing the heroic innocent.
Carel du Plessis, the third Springbok coach under whom Dalton played, “should never have been in the job”. Rudolf Straeuli, once a teammate, “was fun to be around as a player but he wasn’t fun to have around as a coach ... instead of being his own man, [he] was trying to be Kitch Christie”. Lawrie Mains, the New Zealander who coached the Lions and Cats, was “a first-class prick”.
He was enamoured of Nick Mallett to begin with because Mallett considered Dalton his No 1 No 2. But the love died when Mallett became obsessed with breaking the All Blacks’ record of 17 consecutive Test victories (the Boks ending up tying the record when they lost to England in their last match of 1998). “We had the formula ... and Nick tampered with it.”
His lights may have been put out but his motor was still running
— James Dalton
There was also the coach’s obsession (or was it that of his assistant, Alan Solomons?) with a favourite player. “Mallett underestimated team dynamics in his haste to include [Bobby] Skinstad and he didn’t factor in how destructive it would be to the forward unit that had proven itself the best in the world.” Andre Venter, the steely Free Stater whom Dalton hugely admires, needed to make way for Skinstad.
Among his direct opponents Dalton rates, to varying degrees, All Black captain Sean Fitzpatrick, the Irishman Keith Woods and the Argentine Federico Mendez.
Fitzpatrick, the great rugby recidivist, “was as gracious in defeat as he was in your face on the field”. He could also “give it and he could take it, whether it was a chirp, a punch or being cleaned out in a ruck”. During a Test against the All Blacks in Durban 1998, Fitzpatrick’s lights, according to Springbok lock Mark Andrews, went out from a Dalton punch. “His lights may have been put out but his motor was still running,” Dalton recalls. “He was that kind of a player.” No higher praise from a fellow practitioner of the dark arts of the front row.
Woods, on the other hand, “gave it but ... was very vocal when he got it”. In other words, something of a whinger. In their three confrontations, Dalton reckons he got the better of the Irishman each time.
All this before we even get to the drug-taking, whoring, boozing and the Joburg underworld that was part of Dalton’s life. By contrast, Beast is demure.
Like Dalton, Mtawarira’s upbringing was not privileged. But whereas Dalton grew up in the Jeppe Boys’ High environs, it took typical Mtawarira chutzpah to get into the exclusive and distant Peterhouse Boys’ School in eastern Mashonaland. It is one of the delightful parts of the book and the making of the man.
The Beast’s story is one of charm and determination. Both traits endeared him to the people at the Sharks, where Dick Muir turned him from an average flank into a loosehead prop who would become world class. He is also generous in his assessment of others. His only criticism, and it is mild, is reserved for fellow Zimbabwean Brian Mujati: talented, strong, “built like a tank ... but just didn’t have the right mindset”. Mujati has vanished while Mtawarira has flourished.
One of Mtawarira’s unexpected heroes is the diffident former president of SA Rugby Oregan Hoskins, who came to his rescue when he was the victim of a xenophobic ANC conspiracy engineered by the Stofile brothers. They used Mtawarira’s Zimbabwean citizenship to undermine the Springboks. Hoskins went out on a limb for the Beast to stymie the plot. Not that it would happen today with an ANC flunkey running SA rugby.
If Hoskins is to be remembered it should be for saving Mtawarira’s Bok career. What pleasure he must have had seeing the Beast destroy Dan Coles, the England tight head, in the first scrum of the World Cup final in Yokohama, and set up a platform for a Springbok victory.
Ah, yes. The Beast and the Bullet now have something else in common: both are world champions.
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