Mullets aplenty at South African rugby match

I saw flasher girls, remote-control dump trucks and mullets. Was this a NASCAR race? A redneck fantasy?

It was a South African rugby game, actually.

I don’t even remember whom the Durban Sharks were playing. It really didn’t matter because they were supposed to demolish their opponent. But while the game itself ended up being inconsequential, the cultural experience was priceless.

My roommate didn’t like sports, and I really wanted to see a rugby game, which in South Africa is as popular as soccer is in Europe. The stadiums are huge, the advertising is pricey, and the fans come out by the thousands. I knew that I couldn’t live in South Africa for a month and not experience this.

We found a friend of a friend with tickets, and I ended up sitting with a 60-year-old man I’d never met before. I asked him a few questions about rules and penalties, and he asked me about my life back in the States, but we really didn’t have much to talk about. I got the feeling he’d rather be there with his usual beer-drinking buddies.

Things got a little awkward when the Sharks Flasher Girls came out. At first I assumed they were cheerleaders. That makes sense, right? Pro sports teams have cheerleaders.

Not pro rugby, apparently. The Flasher Girls strutted onto the field in black robes and high heels, striking poses and taking off their robes for a few seconds to reveal their bikinis. They pranced around the sidelines, stopping at each side. The men in the crowd, needless to say, went nuts.

I was feeling pretty awkward next to my new friend, but I was feeling confused, too. They could’ve danced or cheered or done something. In America, our half-naked women at least do athletic-looking dances to remixed music. In South Africa, they just “flash.”

Right about this time, a group of guys sat down in front of us. They were all donning matching black-and-white Sharks gear — and had matching mullets. Blond or brunet, short or long, they all had mullets. I might expect to see trendy hipster mullets at a European rave or “business in the front, party in the back” mullets in the backwoods of my home state of Mississippi, but I didn’t expect them here.

The game started. By peering between the scraggly hair in front of me, I could tell that it was a pretty bad game. The Sharks were playing terribly and couldn’t string any passes together. Finally, they got it together and scored a try (rugby’s version of a touchdown).

As the Sharks set up for the extra point, a toy truck came rumbling onto the pitch carrying the tee. A full-grown man on the sidelines solemnly guided the truck back and forth. When the tee was back in his hands, he returned to his seat on the sideline until the tee was needed again.

I was confused again. This is someone’s job? Does he get paid for this? Couldn’t they let a cute little kid do it and make his day, like we do in America? Couldn’t they throw the tee out onto the field, or maybe have a teammate run it out to the kicker? But I should stop and let this man live out any middle school boy’s dream. Really, who doesn’t like playing with remote-control cars?

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It was all downhill from there. There were a few good plays, but even to a casual fan like me, the rugby was pretty mediocre. The game picked up a little in the final minutes, and the Sharks won, 38-13.

I guess it doesn’t matter that it was a bad game, athletically or aesthetically. I’ve always had more appreciation for the ridiculous than the skillful anyway.