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Product Description Beginning in a jail cell and ending in a rugby tournament—the true story of how the most inspiring charm offensive in history brought South Africa together. After being released from prison and winning South Africa’s first free election, Nelson Mandela presided over a country still deeply divided by fifty years of apartheid. His plan was ambitious if not far-fetched: use the national rugby team, the Springboks—long an embodiment of white-supremacist rule—to embody and engage a new South Africa as they prepared to host the 1995 World Cup. The string of wins that followed not only defied the odds, but capped Mandela’s miraculous effort to bring South Africans together again in a hard-won, enduring bond. Watch a Video About the Author John Carlin is senior international writer for El País, the world’sleading Spanish language newspaper, and was previously the U.S.bureau chief for The Independent on Sunday. His writing has appeared in The New York Times, The New Republic, Wired, Spin, and Conde NastTraveler. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter XIVSILVERMINE On May 25, 1995, the Springboks would meet the reigning world champions,Australia, in the first match of the World Cup in Cape Town.The day before, the team was gathered at Silvermine, an old militarybase inside a mountainous nature preserve on the Cape Peninsula,where they had established a temporary training camp. On the easternhalf of the peninsula's narrow waist, Silvermine was one of the mostbeautiful spots in South Africa. Looking north, you saw the totemicmonolith of Table Mountain. Looking south, you saw the rockyextremity where the Indian and Atlantic oceans met. All around werecliffs, forests, valleys, and sea. The team had just finished an afternoon training session when theylooked up and saw a big military helicopter throbbing down from thesky. Morné du Plessis, who had been tipped off about the visit, had puton a suit and tie. As they gawked up at the flying machine descendingtoward the field, he announced that this was Mandela on his way to seethem. They continued to stare as Mandela himself stepped out fromunder the rotor blades in a bright red and orange shirt, worn loose below the waist, in what had become his trademark presidential style. As Mandela strode smiling toward them, the players crowded forward,jostling each other like photographers at a press conference, craningtheir necks to get the best view. Mandela made some light remarks, raising some laughs, and thenDu Plessis called for quiet so that the president could address the team.Somewhat to their surprise, Mandela started by taking up the samelofty themes he generally did when addressing white people. (His audiencewas all white that day, as Chester Williams was away nursing aninjury.) He reminded them that the ANC had promised that the newgovernment would keep the commander of the army, the nationalcommissioner of police, the Reserve Bank governor, and the ministerof finance. He then pointed out that, a year after the elections, his governmenthad remained true to its word. As Afrikaners, they had nothingto fear from the ANC. Nor, Mandela added, breaking into a grin,from their opponents the next day. "You are playing the World Cup champions, Australia. The teamwho wins this match will go right through to the end," he predicted,before returning to a solemn tone. "You now have the opportunity ofserving South Africa and uniting our people. From the point of view ofmerit, you are equal to anything in the world. But we are playing athome and you have got an edge. Just remember, all of us, black andwhite, are behind you." The players cheered and applauded, then Mandela took turns tochat with them one by one. "He asked me why I had dressed so formallyto see him," Du Plessis remembered. "But what was amazing wasthe chemistry. The players were drawn to him immediately." KobusWiese admitted, "I can't remember why we laughed, but I remember wewere lau