The text wars

I t is now over six years since we left South African shores, and for our twins, Zululand is just a vague, happy memory.
They have lived in England longer than in Africa, and for all intents and purposes, they are now poms.
They say I talk funny.
They also fiercely cheer England’s sporting teams, which is understandable … and even think Shane Warne, who is the Aussie captain of Hampshire, is ‘cool’, which to me is pushing it a bit.
This avid Sassenach support is treated with some mirth by the Zululand clan, particularly their Empangeni uncle, whom the twins regard as the font of all fun.
However, they consider his gamesmanship less than ethical after he challenged them to a swimming race in Spain (England v SA) which he ‘won’ by the simple expedient of diving in, jumping out a nano-second later while everyone else was heads-down thrashing water, and crowing about his ‘victory’ for the rest of the holiday.
They didn’t actually see him cheat, but they have serious suspicions.
At the time, England was going through a torrid sporting phase.
The much-hyped World Cup squad barely beat a bunch of Caribbean islanders before being humiliated in a penalty shoot-out against Portugal; Tim Henman got the usual Wimbledon carrot; and in the Six Nations, even lowly Scotland thumped the English squad whose claim to be world champs is now totally in tatters.
Not only that, their cricketers got punished in Pakistan and although they drew the home series against Sri Lanka, they were whitewashed in the one-dayers.
While this was happening, the twins received a barrage of gloating texts from their uncle with ‘questions’ such as ‘I’m not near a TV, has England touched the ball yet?’ … or ‘Has Henman got a serve in yet?’
The Sri Lankan one-day debacles were the worst, with ‘Has England made a run yet?’ being the most polite missive.
What infuriated the brats was not just that they were stumped for an answer, but that these whooping communiqués were signed ‘the Spanish swimming champ’.
But revenge can be sweet. And while the rest of us watched the Springboks’ Tri-nations performance with dismay, the twins had their fingers out and were texting with gusto.
‘We’re not near a TV; was the match against the All Blacks a cricket or rugby one?” was the first of their fight backs after that embarrassingly high score trouncing by the Kiwis.
The answer ‘that’s our B-team’ didn’t cut ice with them, and they were equally unimpressed with claims that the Springboks had made a brave attempt against the Aussies.
They still got hammered, was their sage observation.
Conversely, England suddenly had a stunning reversal in fortunes.
Their cricketers convincingly won the return series against Pakistan, and with South Africa losing the Sri Lankan tests the twins were almost coming to blows in the daily scramble for the cell phone.
‘We’re not near a TV; are the Proteas only one innings behind?’ was the gist of a barrage of gleefully texted comments, signed ‘the brats’.
For the first time the uncle, whom I have never seen lose an argument (when all else fails, he just talks louder), was at a loss for words … or more accurately, texts.
He’s now forgotten – or stopped calling himself – the Spanish swimming champion.
Even management is impressed.
She grew up as the kid sister and was mercilessly teased for at least the first 20 years of her life.
She still grudgingly refers to her brother as the maestro heckler, and I suspect she is vicariously fighting this battle with the twins as proxy.
There’s no doubt the brats are on a roll, and I am loath to caution them.
I have always had a soft spot for England’s sportsmen as they have perfected the dignified art of coming heroically second, but that doesn’t mean I would place good money on them.
And with the Ashes, World Cup cricket and rugby festivals looming on the horizon, I sense the Empangeni uncle is licking his wounds and gearing up for the mother of all text wars.
Well, if nothing else, it’s going to be character building.