I cannot do justice to Bennie Osler. Whatever I have to say must be amplified a thousand times to do true justice to this rugby genius.
He played in an era when the moment the hooker had touched the ball as it was thrown into the scrum, the entire opposing pack could break up. Bennie, being the marked man he was, attracted most of the attentions of these players - there was no offside law then. To counter this, Bennie had worked out a defence mechanism. His answer was to kick the ball into the "boxes" - those gaps left by the fast-breaking opponents.
Bennie had the habit of telling the scrumhalf only at the very last second which way he was going - left or right. A difficult man to play with, but he knew what he was doing. He would say "Danie", which meant right, or "Craven", which meant he was going left.
As I've said, a difficult customer, but that is the way it is when you come across a genius like Bennie; you had to follow blindly, believing and trusting that he would do the right thing. This Bennie Osler seldom failed to do on the rugby field.
Some people were of the opinion that Bennie was a bit scared, but I recall the game against Scotland on the 1931/32 tour. Dribbling was very much a part of the game then, particularly in Scotland.
The Scottish crowd would chant "Feet, Scotland, feet." And those boots would not distinguish between body or ball. I had my doubts, for sure, but that day Osler answered his critics. In the face of the oncoming forwards he fell on a loose ball, was flung aside, kicked, but the courage was there, plain for all to see.
I will never forget my first ever Test match, against Wales. We were in the dressing-room, sitting quietly. Outside it was raining cats and dogs, the crowd singing beautifully, stirringly, while getting wetter and wetter. I was so nervous I was tempted to tell Oom Theo that I couldn't play. I looked around me and saw all the stalwarts we had; Phil Mostert, Gerry Brand, Boy Louw and Bennie Osler, sitting quietly as they prepared.
Just before we were due to go on the field, Bennie stood up and said: "Fellows, I don't know what we can expect out there. I don't know if we'll be able to handle the wet ball - but we must assume that we will be able to. If we can't I'll tell you what to do. I want you to remember our people at home: They're all behind us. Remember, no-one in the stands here is on our side."
We went out with those words ringing in our ears.
After I had passed the ball to him after the very first scrum he said to me: "Daantjie, we can't handle it. Anytime you get the ball kick it anywhere you like, because they won't be able to handle it either."
They were playing with mittens in those bitterly cold, wet conditions - the first time I had ever seen gloves worn on a rugby field. Bennie ordered: "Forwards, let them have the ball in the scrums and lineouts. Loose forwards, you capitalise on their mistakes."
And those were our tactics on the day. Well, they scored first and it was a terrific battle, but eventually we won 8-3 and what a glorious end it was to my first test match.
Bennie - a man of few words during a match - would often turn to the referee and ask how much time was left. Often the referee would reply: "After the next infringement I'm going to blow no-sides."
At Neath and Aberavon we were battling. Finally we drew level. Then the decisive moment: Bennie asked the referee his usual question. We won the ball, Bennie slipped around the blind-side, passed to Zimerman who ran clear and gave to Phil Mostert for the winning try.
A great, great player: We will not see his like again.