In Old Norse literature, we read of Viking warriors who fought as if in a trance, immune to pain, without armour, in an uncontrollable but strangely calm fury. They were the Úlfhéðnar, or Berserkers.
We also read about the Berserkers in the annals of the lands they invaded; often these men fought naked, and were worth five or ten ordinary warriors. Nothing short of a mortal wound could stop them. They literally had gone berserk, a word that is a gift from these men.
But were they men? Some anthropologists believe the Berserkers were not just abnormally large Norsemen who drugged themselves into fury before battle.
There is a theory that these were the last of a hybrid between larger-skulled, harder-boned Neanderthals and homo sapiens. Their extraordinary pain tolerance, power, and lust for blood is certainly evidence for this theory; but nobody really knows.
Duane Vermeulen, as I have described in a past article, seems not to acknowledge pain or exhaustion or the excuses of mere mortals. He has become known as Thor, but maybe he is the Bok Beserker.
I write this ode to him:
Mad as the blood wolf
You bite your shield
Throw aside the armour
And slay the dragon
Eat the wallaby
Rip the puma apart without fire nor iron
And when the darkness comes
And pantomimes your death
You smile and welcome the thought.
In your warm lair
You are a father
Gentle as hibernation
But as battle forms,
You change
Into a shape of wild fury,
Into the hardest of men,
Ravenous for carries
Looting the breakdown,
Plundering at lineout,
Laying waste to the ruck,
Mauling not just men, but even chariots,
Laughing with deep knowledge,
Passed down from times past,
Before the mists of the menagerie were formed.
Tackling as if possessed
By some otherworldly lust
For blood and bones broken.
Your foes shake their head
As they expire
And ask “what is that devil made of?”
What are you made of,
Beserker Bok?
You taster of blood,
Strong ox,
Intrepid hero
Who wades out into battle
With fired ferocity
And demoniacal frenzy.
Why do you furiously bite and
Devoured the edges of the scrum,
And gulp down burning coals?
How can you snatch live embers
And drink them into your mouth?
What is in your mad entrails
That allows you to take heavy contact
And keep coming,
Raving and raging
Against the almighty night team,
Even exultant during their haka,
Risking both victory and life,
And ever refusing to retreat
From fire or iron,
Blunting the spell of Sir Richard,,
With one glance of your eyes.
You leave your victims shivering,
Chattering their teeth,
Feeble and dull,
Speaking in hushed tones
Of TMOs and videos and stadium replays and modernity,
But we see them as you left them:
Chilled and discoloured.
While you howl in victory.
Piet
Guest
Brilliant blog. Great to see poetry being appreciated to the extent it is here. Armand, net soos jy is ek ook Duane befok !!!!!
Armand van Zyl
Roar Guru
Richie, Richie burning bright In the pitches of the night What mortal hand nor eye can frame thy fearful symmatry?
fredstone
Guest
Ask Murray if he can remeber anything about Ellispark '87.
Beef
Guest
He's a vital cog in that team mate. Instrumental in those achievements I would say.
It isn't about the team mate, it is about the individual.
Beef
Guest
I don't think he can achieve what Read has achieved. Super rugby title, World Cup, Rugby championship (3 years on the trot) An unbeaten season (2013) Equaling 17 straight victory record, and 22 match unbeaten run.
Harry Jones
Expert
Don't worry about me at a braai Fred Poetry when p----ed is great
Harry Jones
Expert
Haha!
hahaha, brilliant.
fredstone
Guest
Late one evening in a Auckland bar Retallick runs into Brad and asks him for a couple of pointers. Eventually after a long chat over a pint or two Brad gets a bit emotional. Brodie with a quizzical look on his face thinking that the conversation had woken a bit of emotion asks him if he was ok. To this Brad responds by begging Brodie to promise him to refrain from doing one thing and one thing only on a rugby field. Brad goes as far as to say that it's the one thing that'll make him have a long and happy international careeer. Brodie's intrest is now peaked since this now sounds like the secret to the holy grail. Brad is rambling on about how important this thing is and how it would, if not adhered to corrupt your soul, nay the soul of an entire team. Brad then gets, what sounds to Brodie, a bit philosophical and starts speaking of situations and contingencies and how you eventully arrive at the point where you just can't take a chance which then leads to tampering with elements of control and...but Brodie doesn't let Brad finish, you mean match fixing he exclaims! Brad hushes him with a wave of his hand as to symbolically wipe it all away and absentmindedly states that it's all been done before in '56. Brodie with a raised eyebrow is aglow with antisipation. It seems the future and character of New Zealand Rugby hinges on what Brad is about to tell him. So with great anticipation he quietly urges Brad to divulge his secret feeling all the while that he's about to be handed the keys to the rugby universe. Brad, with a deep sigh then confides that Alli Williams had called him aside when he had just been selected to represent the All Blacks and that they had a similar conversation to the one which they were having now. Alli had basically started off by saying that there were certain rivalries that transcends space and time and that there were special rules of engagement that governed these rivalries. He had told Brad that the Springbok All Black rivalry had such a context. He further went on to explain that you could literally treat the springbok captain as a ragdoll and throw him around with much gusto, but there were certain boundaries that you should not cross since you end up staring into the abyss with nowhere to turn to. Alli then confided that he himself had been taugh this horrific lesson by Mark Andrews. At this moment Brodie's patience had run thin and he cries out for Brad to tell him immediately. Brad with a startled look then utteres the following words "promise me that you will never hit a springbok lock". A surprised but slighlty dissapointed Brodie responds with " I'll never hit a... why?" "Well" says Brad with a tortured expression " when you've hit him as hard as you can and he gets up and then emplores the ref not to send you off, then my boy you wish for the rest of that game and every game that you play against the springboks after that game that the ref had sent you off..."
fredstone
Guest
Jeepers, has the Cape not seen a real tough loosie in such a long time you's have to make all these poetical stuff up about a bloke? The oke is from the deep Northern Transvaal where you say stuff like that at a braai people will think you should go slow on the witblits. Now I has a suggestion for you's, like why don't you's make a nice story of all those legends that has perpetrated the spiritualistic bloodline before him from bearthplace of good loosies? I don't think a story with Juan, Andre, AJ, Rasie, Ruben(if he was still alive) Hendro to name but a few, would be boring if you were to invite a few kiwis over for a braai and it may just get them to realise that they are doomed to the pits of Niflheim where Johan Le Roux will be gnawing on their corpses forever.
Harry Jones
Expert
It would just be straight from the Old Testament. Destruction.
Harry Jones
Expert
Non-Ode to Richie If he were born On a cold Cape morn His dad with a mustache The hospital in Stellenbosch And he was pure Bok A flank, not a lock I'd revere his theft, But he was not; and he leaves me bereft.
Of course you can, I will give you the intro. His secret desire Richie had to hide Having Thor on his side. Packing down next to the enforcer.......
Harry Jones
Expert
Let's see about that Only a year ago The pundits scoffed At the idea That he was in the same league As Read
Harry Jones
Expert
I cannot I just can't
Jacques
Guest
Pah! Duane has won the most important trophy in world rugby in 2012 already. The Currie Cup with WP.
wardad
Guest
Saw a history doco where they put some of that berserker rage down to Magic Mushies !
Beef
Guest
Great piece Harry. You forgot to mention that he's yet to win a trophy with these accolades.
deano
Guest
Mac stop been a hater Harry's having fun you should enjoy his love of the game Btw I'd only put cowboy in the class of hard men out of one's you mentioned other 3 good players but none a cowboy Shaw I can't recall any of others dishing it out as cowboy did