We posted a message from Jack Spanish the other day leading up to the epic game against France. Included in the mail were some words of inspiration for the team that had been written before the start of the tournament. Although they may not have made it through, I certainly believe they rocked out. And while I know we’re being bombarded with all things World Cup at the moment, there are parts of this message that may resonate with you in that game we call life.

Rock out
Rock out Bafana Bafana
Rock Out
Rock out like you’re a lion, and the world cup is the jungle
Rock out like you are seeing Table Mountain for the first time, and the sun is rising
Rock out like you’re dancing to the bones thrown by the witch doctors on the hilltops of Kwazulu Natal
Rock out like you Are the fires of Soweto
Rock out like you’re a Fundamentalist and a terrorist and just this time, in this place, you decide not to light that fuse, or plant that bomb, or drive that car – Rock out like life matters
Rock out like you’re a great white f*cking shark
Rock out like there is no tax
Rock out like the only thing standing between you and a legend, is another man from another place, wearing the same boots – Rock out like the stadiums were not expensive, and the crime is not so bad, and that other shit will have space again some time, but not now – Rock out like the Vuvuzela is a trumpet and you are blowing with the sweet lips of Hugh Masekela
Rock out like you are behind the cricket nets, and it is him or you, and peace or surrender is not an option
Rock out like you believe in that little part of the bottom of you, untouchable by critics, or statistics, or chequebooks, or names, that you too love this game – Rock out like it’s the 70’s and passes are abolished, and the world has changed, and the colour of a man’s skin is not a measure of his worth – Rock out like you’re driving the garden route, and the top is down, and Jay Z is talking about a Yankee cap, and you know all about African Bhambatha sh*t
Rock out like there was no Slavery
Rock out like jou ma se pus*
Rock out like you are the Atlantic, or Indian Ocean, or the Kruger National Park, or Sandton Square, or the local Shebeen, or the Drakensburg Mountains, or the Klein or Groot Karoo, or a herd of Buffalo on the charge, or a Highveld thunderstorm
Rock out like you’re a doctor, and everything you do heals Africa
Rock Out like it’s 1994
Rock out like you trekked a thousand miles through some of the harshest terrain known to mankind, because you thought that this land is a lekker place to live – Rock Out like the air is clean, the water is pure, the sand is white, the sea is warm, and you are one with the wave – Rock out like you are cooking on the open fire and the heavens are blue
Rock out like you’re drunk – on Klippies and Coke
Rock out like you are the Springboks
Rock out like you know it is about inches
Rock out like you are fighting the gunfire of the red people with nothing but your shield, and your spear, and your heart – Rock out like the beat of the drums is tuned to the movement of your feet
Rock out like you’re in love
Rock Out like you just found out the secrets of the universe
Rock out like you think that hosting the world cup is cool enough, but it would just be that little bit cooler, that little bit tastier if you won the whole f*cking thing
Rock out like this is your town, and this is your time, and this is your test, and there are no other chances, no other lives, and your footsteps now on the ground of the land you grew up on, are your last chance to echo throughout eternity
Rock out like this World Cup is the last gift you will ever be able to give to Nelson Mandela
Rock Out like You Believe
Rock Out like God came down and touched your shoes with his lips
Rock Out like you are an African
Rock out like the only word you know, or speak, or hear is Laduuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuma
Rock Out like you are a South African
Rotterdam – Friday 11 June (10 hours until 2010)