A law unto themselves

The untouchables: South Africa's players have come to regard themselves as the be-all of the game © Getty Images

Anyone who seriously believes that South Africa did not win the World Cup because their players drink too much needs to get out more.

South Africa did not win the World Cup because Australia played a brand of cricket no other team in the world could match, let alone better. That should be the beginning and the end of the matter. But in South Africa we build entire dynasties on foundations of denial, so we refuse to accept that there can't be more to it than the obvious, blinding, elephant-in-the-room truth.

Just as true is that players who believe they can give of their best in the 72 hours after a big night out should peg their career ambitions some way below international level.

Mickey Arthur believes his players are not among these malcontents and cites just two breaches of the team's alcohol rules since he took over as coach in 2005. Both times the issue was dealt with internally, which means no official disciplinary hearing was held and no recognised punishment was meted out.

But rather than wondering out loud whether Australia beat a hungover South African team in the Caribbean or whether the over-indulgence by some players after the loss to New Zealand is an issue worth pursuing (it isn't) we should ask why the team's rules on drinking are policed by the players themselves.

The company line is that they are mature professionals who are able to maintain their self-discipline. Why, then, would they object to an independent authority taking a look at their mature, professional, disciplined behaviour after hours and dealing with the few who fall foul of the code?

The most bleak answer to that question is that South African cricket has fallen victim not to a culture of drinking but to a culture of untouchability. All players who are good enough to represent their countries are placed on pedestals, and there are precious few who have reached that level without at least a touch of arrogance. In countries that have enjoyed continuity from one generation of players to the next, no pedestal is too tall to be upended if needs be, and there are invariably respected greybeards in the mix who are able to remind the current stars that they are no more than part of the game.

In South Africa, with its history of separation, legalised inequality, and 20 years of isolation, that system is not working. The country is represented by players who regard themselves as the be-all and end-all of the game. Even the most senior administrators are paid only the most scant respect, and the past is something we would rather not discuss. Were Graeme Pollock to walk into a room filled with 16-year-old cricketers it's a fair bet they would think he was the granddad of one of their mates. Hylton Ackerman? He's a commentator, isn't he? Hang on, he's HD's old man. The fact that Ackerman was an outstanding genius of his generation of South African batsmen goes unspoken and therefore unheard.

Cricket South Africa's (CSA) reaction to the publication in the local edition of The Wisden Cricketer of a report by the national team's former fitness trainer, Adrian le Roux, who considered the players' alcohol consumption "a problem", aptly illustrates a community that has forgotten its place in wider society.

"It is a matter of grave concern, however, that a confidential report with limited distribution to CSA officials should be leaked and sensationalised in this way," said chief executive Gerald Majola. Shouldn't Majola save his "grave concern" for the players' seeming disregard for his board's authority?

After all, it wasn't that long ago that one South African player grew so powerful and so ungovernable that the consequences of his unbridled actions undermined cricket around the world. His name was Hansie Cronje.