When I became sports editor of The Sunday Independent back in 1998 I was lucky enough to inherit Bruce Fordyce as a columnist. He had been brought on to the paper by the late Rodney Hartman and his deputy, the equally great Gavin Schmidt.
Fordyce’s column would mostly — perhaps always — arrive via fax and the transcribing of it, usually a pain in the days before copy and paste, never felt like a chore. Bruce is a talented and natural storyteller and typing his thoughts and tales was to go with him on his journey for the week.
That journey was usually and inevitably about running, but he would venture into football and Manchester United, rugby, cricket or wherever his fancy took him. Five years after the Rugby World Cup final, he wrote me an emotional, funny take-out of being in the stadium that day for a double-page spread we at the Sindy devoted to the anniversary of the match.
I wish I still had it, but I do remember his piece being the shining light on a celebration that included a piece by Rory Steyn, Madiba’s former bodyguard, who was the only South African sitting on the All Blacks bench on that June afternoon.
There were times, when the Comrades would approach, that Bruce would send a column that looked familiar, which was because it was a story he had told before. But, somehow, he found a new way to tell it, a new way to make it relevant and entertaining, some small new titbit to make it feel new and comfortable.
If a subeditor ever said something about having read the story before, I would simply say: “It’s Bruce f**king Fordyce. He can do what he wants.”
One column that has remained with me all these years was about Alan Robb’s pre-Comrades ritual, one far removed from those of today’s athletes.
Robb was still working for a bank and had to take time off work to do the race. The night before, his prerace meal would be a steak, egg and chips, and two Castles. I might be wrong about the Castles, though. He may have had those in celebration after the race. Actually, knowing Alan, it would have been before and after.
The day after he won his first Comrades, Robb flew home so he could be in time for work at the bank. There was no money for the winners in those days. A medal, a tog bag and honours for a year were all reward he received and, indeed, all he needed.
It was the casualness with which he seemed to approach not only running the Comrades, but winning the damn thing.
“Morning, Alan. Get up to anything over the weekend?” “I won the Comrades.” “Ah. Nice. Do you have that report I asked for on Thursday?”
Like one of his favourite stories, Bruce always reintroduces me to Alan every time we are in the same company, with: “Alan, you know Kevin, don’t you? Your fellow Liverpool loser.” Then we rumble on about Liverpool and Manchester United for five minutes before someone interrupts us with a beer.
The news this week from SuperSport that Fordyce will be part of its team for this Sunday’s Comrades coverage was as welcome as it was obvious. It’s not just that no-one knows this race like Bruce, but that no-one can tell the stories the way he does with just the right amount of insight, pathos, history and personality.
He holds the story of the Comrades together, its past, present and future. A short, skinny “soutie” born in Hong Kong, he was jeered and pelted with fruit for wearing a black armband at the 1981 Comrades to protest against the organisers taking R5,000 from the National Party government to celebrate Republic Day — essentially 20 years of apartheid rule.
On Sunday, Bruce, I am sure, will report, remember and reinforce the glory of the Comrades in a way this great race demands and deserves.
I’ve never run it. I have said I never will. Bruce has told me I won’t feel complete until I do. Perhaps this Sunday I will listen to another of his stories, wonder where I have heard it before and wonder if I should finally give it one more try. If a race such as this can give us a runner and storyteller like Bruce, then perhaps it may be worth it.
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