Growing up in the outer Johannesburg suburbs of Fourways and Midrand, you’d probably assume my sporting loyalties were firmly rooted with the Lions. It would make sense – proximity, after all, tends to shape allegiance. But sport, like memory, doesn’t always follow logic.
As a child, my heart belonged elsewhere. I found myself drawn to the Blue Bulls and the Titans – teams whose colours, players, and moments quietly stitched themselves into the fabric of my childhood.
Some of my earliest and fondest memories are tied to warm summer evenings spent watching the Ram Slam T20. I can still picture players like Albie Morkel, Henry Davids, and Chris Morris walking out under lights, the atmosphere electric, the stakes always just a little higher in those finals. There was something captivating about the way they dominated those moments – effortless power mixed with composure – that made you believe you were watching something special, even as a kid.
And then there were the winters. The Bulls of 2007 to 2010 didn’t just win – they imposed themselves. Names like Victor Matfield, Bakkies Botha, Fourie du Preez, and Morne Steyn weren’t just players; they were icons of an era. Watching them dominate Super Rugby felt inevitable, almost scripted, as if every match was another chapter in a story you already knew would end in triumph.
So when the opportunity came – an invitation from the Titans media team to attend a match – it felt surreal. One of those moments where your present self quietly looks back at your younger self and smiles. It wasn’t something I could ever turn down. In truth, it was one of those rare, “pinch yourself” experiences that don’t quite feel real until you’re in them.
That feeling only deepened when I found myself seated in the Elise Lombard Media Centre. Just a few years ago, the people around me were faces on a screen – voices I associated with big moments, post-match analysis, and commentary that filled my living room. Now, suddenly, I was sitting among them.
One moment, in particular, stood out. Catching sight of Xola Ntshinga in the media box stopped me in my tracks. It felt oddly full circle – just weeks earlier I had been watching the Springbok Saga documentary, where he features, and now here he was, a few seats away. It was one of those quiet, surreal intersections between being a fan and stepping into the world you’ve always watched from afar.
The day itself unfolded in layers. It began with the Titans Women taking on the Lions Women – a match that, in many ways, set the tone. The wicket offered just enough to keep the spinners interested, while the outfield rewarded timing with value for shots. It wasn’t a day for reckless hitting; instead, it was the middle order that anchored both innings, piecing together partnerships and building momentum.
What stood out most, though, was the fielding. There was an intensity to it – diving stops, sharp catches, a sense that every run mattered. It gave the match an edge, a feeling that it could swing at any moment.
And then, it did…
With five runs needed off the final ball, the Lions found themselves on the brink. One delivery. One moment. And in a flash, the game was decided – a cleanly struck six sailing over the boundary to seal a dramatic five-wicket victory. It was the kind of finish you imagine as a kid, replaying it in your mind long after the match ends.
If that was drama, what followed was pure spectacle.
The legends match carried a different energy – lighter, nostalgic, but no less competitive. Fourie du Preez, leading the Bulls Legends, won the toss and opted to bat first, setting the tone early. What followed was a masterclass from Jaco van der Westhuizen, whose innings of 75 felt both effortless and commanding. Boundaries came freely, and by the time the innings closed, the Bulls Legends had posted a total well north of 220 – a daunting target by any standard.
The Titans Legends’ response, however, got off to the worst possible start.
When Dean Greyling bowled AB de Villiers for a duck, the reaction was immediate – and unforgettable. The Bulls’ celebrations erupted with such energy and joy that, for a moment, it felt like something far bigger than a legends exhibition match. It was loud, animated, and full of life – almost reminiscent of iconic cricketing celebrations of the past. Yet, in true AB fashion, the moment was met with grace. A smile, a walk down the pitch, and a warm embrace for Greyling – a reminder of the spirit that defines the game beyond the scoreboard.
Albie Morkel tried to steady things with a fighting knock of over 40, offering some resistance, but the target proved too steep. In the end, the Bulls Legends ran out comfortable winners, closing out a match that was as entertaining as it was nostalgic.
As the day drew to a close, it was hard not to reflect on how much it all meant. What began as a simple invitation turned into something far more memorable – a day filled with moments that blurred the line between past and present, between being a fan and being part of the experience.
I’m incredibly grateful to everyone at the Titans for making it possible. It’s not often that sport gives you memories that feel this personal, this vivid.
And if this experience is anything to go by, I already know I’ll be back – this time for the Metro Cup – at a stadium that now feels a little more familiar, surrounded by people who made it all the more special.
Photo: @Titans_Cricket/Twitter