St Mary’s; The Legend of ‘91
In
late 1990, I joined my primary school math teacher on the staff of St. Mary’s
School in Nairobi. I was teaching high school, but I never forgot the mathematical genius Mr. Peter Mwangura instilled in me and my
class mates in those early days. His rule was simple,
“Never stay down and never get comfortable with your last success”. Joining St
Mary’s was not in my strategic plan, but needless to say I was jobless. I had
to make a quick turnaround before I was kicked out for defaulting on my rent. I
had smugly quit my previous job several months ago and now my finances were
going south. I was to teach physics, math, computer basics. I also taught something
called theory of knowledge (TOK). During one of these classes Eric brought the house down when he declared, " I want to be rich and famous". I later learned that the appearance of the
word “rugby” on my resume gave me an edge for the job against two other candidates. It was not
until the middle of the first school term in 1991 that I was persuaded to go
down to the furthest field on the vast school grounds to see a sorry picture of
about eight or so fresh faced, portly, roughly dressed, long, wide and short cast
members rolling about the arena. They were all cackling loudly and having a whale of a
time. They were practicing for a stage comedy of sorts. As I sat down for the
pre-Broadway edition of "who can catch the ball", I realized I was watching
the school rugby team.
I
don't know why I went back the next week, but it was probably because Father Caffrey asked me what I thought
of the team. I mumbled something, but I knew he was not going to let me forget
why I was hired. So I went back to the circus and the boys thought I was the
joke. We all discovered, together, that the team had never won a match in memory
and that we were the whipping boys of the National Schools’ rugby league. In
other words, every other school counted three points before match day with the
Saints. I looked over the boys on the set and I saw two things we could
work with. The boys had heart and they had spirit. They also had boots, but they hardly knew
anything about rugby, the ball or teamwork. They had a natural leader, Koech, aka
“captain” or " coach". His last title was a corruption of his ability
to run like a train on tracks - dead center at full speed! Nonetheless, this unnerving habit ended up with a
ton of bodies on top of him while he barked orders from beneath the pile. He
just never knew when to give up! This medium sized lad always
played with a bandage on his left hand. He took everything that came at him.
So
we got to work. We peeled off the fat. Coach was brilliant at that. The players preferred me to the captains’ suicide workouts. Koech did his own workouts
before and after practice. Everyone had to learn to run for 90 minutes’ non-
stop. After that we got them to run in the right direction. What could be
simpler...you would think!?! Then we worked on catching, not juggling, the ball
and running with it towards our opponents and not away from them. After a while we even managed to move around together like a Roman tank. Amazingly,
our numbers began to grow and we began to play for the girls in the gallery.
Class teachers complained about the player’s poor grades and truancy.
Parents came to watch practice sessions after school. We were so popular we had
a following!! Evidently we become a standard feature on a weekly comic strip . Every player
discovered they had a talent and needed to show it off! Teamwork went from mediocre
one day to disaster the next. So, we got all the players to the center of the
pitch and agreed if we wanted to be winners, we would need to do two things fast.
First, we individually needed to decide why we wanted to be on this team and whether
we wanted to work together or not. Next, we needed to focus on character,
teamwork and tactics-on the pitch and not in the stands. We also agreed
that good grades would not hurt our reputation. It took us several weeks to
learn those lines by heart, but we did. With that we said our prayers and
walked into the league at the beginning of the mid-year school term.
The Friday Nation Newspaper reported that “Saint Mary's school Rugby team 1st
XV won their first match 4:3” in the sports pages . That result was
such a shocker it drew the attention of the national sports editor. It was a win
by the narrowest margin possible from the least fancied side in the country. That
was NEWS! That is when everyone else started to believe. But, from then on there was no looking back. That win anchored the school’s
first ever championship success in the Prescott
Cup. It laid the foundation for a winning streak that lasted more than a decade.
By the middle of the season we could hook, ruck, maul and steal the ball at
will. And boy could those boys run! We used everything to our advantage; weight,
height and wings! We could counter attack from our own twenty-five-yard line and
drive all the way back to the opponents try line. The blitz of blue and white
uniforms on the field was like a swarm of migrating wild geese in “V” formation. We could dictate and switch pace of a game and fling the ball across half the field. We had a battery of coded play. The Saints were no longer an afterthought, they became the team
to beat. Half of the team of ’91 would tryout and turnout for the Kenya
National team, registering sterling performances and outstanding accolades at
the international level.
I
slipped out of the St Mary’s School set at the end of ’91 for my next assignment. It was a privilege
to have been part of Gods orchestrated greatness. The memories of the team
stay with me. They may not have looked the part in the beginning, but the boys were
always champions at heart. The boys became men and then gentlemen! Every one of those who turned
out for us on that team had their own story. Each one showed up, because only
champions show up. I should write a book about this someday or better still
make a movie. I am not sure anyone would believe me. You see this story is the
stuff of legends. The greatest team on earth taught me a
champion needs three things; heart, spirit and most important character! ... By the way, Eric did become both rich and famous. Only he had the faith to believe it.
Alolo
