It isn’t hard to believe why there has been such an overflowing sense of sadness at the death of former Springbok flanker Pedrie Wannenburg in a car accident this past weekend.
Because anyone who knew the big smile and the blue eyes that seemed to be such an integral part of Loftus Versfeld over their strongest decade this century can’t seem to believe its true.
In an era where Loftus Versfeld and the Bulls dominated South African rugby and produced many players who would go on to win a World Cup, Wannenburg was often in the background, was often unnoticed, but was such a massive part of a team that achieved so much.
The first time I remember meeting Wannenburg wasn’t around the field. I’d seen this youngster, a player who the Sharks had cut from their contract, pitch up at Loftus and fill the place with smiles and laughter.
It was clear he was a popular guy among his teammates.
But it was in a bar after a game in a small town. As often happened back then, journalists would end up in the same places as the players afterwards - mainly because there weren’t too many options to have that post-match beer.
Often we’d sit on the one side of the bar and the players would keep to themselves.
But on this particular night I was talking to a colleague when Wannenburg popped up next to me, slammed a beer onto the counter and introduced himself in the way I still chuckle about.
“You’re the journalist,” he laughed, “and you look thirsty.”
And from then on it became almost a ritual that you’d bump into Pedrie somewhere on a night out, and he would have a beer.
He had a way with people, a way of dismantling even his worst critics and a way of being the centre of attention without even trying.
There are many players who will have their own stories about him and his antics - on and off the field which are legendary, but I can’t forget one meeting with him after a Currie Cup win for the Bulls.
Back then a rugby magazine commissioned me to do “a week in the life of a Currie Cup finalist” - basically a diary of the lead up to the final. Pedrie agreed that we do it after the final, so he could concentrate on the task at hand.
The next week I arrived at his house, And we started talking about the week.
Wannenburg wasn’t your average player and his explanation of the week went something like this.
“Ok, Monday night we had a braai here, and a bit to drink. Tuesday we had a team function, so we got home late. Wednesday was a golf day, so you can guess. Thursday…well, I went out. Friday, well Friday we braaid again….actually, say Thursday we stayed at home, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
And still he played a blinder in the Currie Cup final.
But that was Pedrie. Always the smile, the laughter and the love of life.
The last time I spoke to him was a few months ago on zoom, and he told me he was loving family life, and felt truly at home in the US. We promised to catch up for a beer when we saw each other again.
There will be many who knew him better, who have better stories and who can probably write a better tribute to a player who was well-loved all around.
But that was the thing about Pedrie. He had an impact on everyone he met. This weekend my phone continued buzzing with disbelief at friends and colleagues who heard the news.
Pedrie taken so soon from us. It can’t be true.
But it is. And the rugby world has lost one of its greatest characters.
Thanks for the beers Pedrie. Thanks for the laughs.
My only hope is that everyone who knew him will think back to the memories, how that smile warmed the room.
And all those stories that can never be told in print but made him the legend he was.
RIP.