So, farewell Bafana. Farewell to the man who gave 35 years of service to The Star. Farewell to the man who taught us the proper meaning of the word ‘Spurs’. Farewell to the gentle boss, the sports editor who made our jobs a pleasure, who was our friend as much as our leader.
Many of us at The Star first met Bafana Shezi when he was on the production desk of The Star, a place where they worked hard and played harder. I first met him when he dashed for the Saturday Star on a Friday night, working for Rodney Hartman and Gavin Schmidt. Later he would work for me when I took over as sports editor of that paper.
Then I worked for him when he became sports editor of The Star.
But we never really worked for each other, we always worked with each other. You never worked under Bafana, you worked alongside him.
Through Bafana, I learnt that ‘Spurs’ meant ‘bad’, as in it’s ‘a little bit Spurs’, a saying invented to annoy one fanatical Spurs fan in the office. If you were going to ‘Old Trafford’, you were going to the toilet.
In the older, harder-drinking days of The Star, Bafana was not one of the thirsty mob who led the charge across the road to the Liz Hotel after the first edition deadline.
Later, though, as sports editor, he led the charge to the SAB World of Beer for our weekly planning meetings on Tuesdays.
We started them eight years ago after Bafana became sports editor, and, save for the heart-stopping time when they were closed to three months for refurbishment, we rarely missed a meeting.
It was to the World of Beer we repaired this Tuesday past to give Bafana a surprise farewell party. The World of Beer is our happy place.
At those weekly planning meetings Bafana came into his own.
He escaped the nonsense of the office, told us the skinner of the week and took down the detailed diary that would guide our coverage for the week. We would fight and argue, compliment and criticise.
Those meetings keep us on our toes. Mistakes were savaged, clichés spat on and excellence praised. Bafana would not suffer foolishness from editors after our meetings.
Kevin Ritchie made the mistake of trying to drop an entire empty page on Sport one Tuesday afternoon while we were out.
Kevin then discovered the 'Wrath of Baf' as he was given both barrels. He still winces when reminded of it.
Baf has been the most generous and accommodating of bosses these past eight years. He has seen his department dwindle in size along with the industry as a whole, and yet has continued to produce what we believe are the top sports pages in the country.
So, farewell Bra Baf. Farewell to a kind and gentle man.
Farewell to a good friend. See you at the World of Beer. It won’t be ‘Spurs’. - The Star