Eben Etzebeth and the Brandies of Heaven

I never would have imagined that it would be my duty to defend Eben Etzebeth, the giant among giants of Springbok rugby. Yet, I see it as my responsibility to stand up for this gargantuan hero, as well as for another of South Africa’s fortified phenomena – namely brandy – and to bravely come to the defence of both.

It all started when Eben was quoted in the newspaper Rapport. The occasion was after last month’s match against the All Blacks, the one in which he became the first player to wear the Springbok jersey 128 times. In the news report, Eben spoke about his late father, Harry: “I thought of my Dad looking down from above. I think he poured a few brandies with the angels.” As per quoted, and in print.

Several commentators then claimed that these words showed a grave level of religious disrespect, arguing that brandy, supposedly, has no place in heaven.

The correction that must be made in the face of such ignorant accusations is that of all the blessed beverages known to man, it’s precisely brandy that commands a special place in heaven. And this is thanks to the very angels that were mentioned, the ones who, according to Eben, would have shared a few sips of brandy with his dad, Harry.

Because, as everyone with a true love for brandy knows, it’s the one type of drink for which the angels descend down from heaven, coming to fetch it from us here on earth. In the drinks industry, it’s even officially called “the angels’ share.”

You see, brandy is made by distilling wine twice. After this process, there’s a strong, clear liquid, which is only the beginning stage of the brandy-making process. This distillate is placed in oak barrels for years, where the wood gives the liquid its characteristic golden-brown colour. The barrels also soften the brandy, removing the harsh, sharp flavours and transforming it into a smooth spirit with the generous, fragrant, and warm heart that everyone loves.

But nothing great comes without a cost: brandy makers must be willing to sacrifice something in the process of blessing humanity with the miracle they conjure from the grape. And that’s the part that belongs to the angels.

While the brandy ages in the barrels, evaporation occurs. Around 3% of the barrel’s contents are lost annually, and this – according to tradition – is the portion of the brandy given up to the angels. Their longing for a little brandy is respected, lovingly offered.

Therefore, Eben’s comment about what happens in heaven, with the gathering of angels and his dad around a few snifters of brandy, is far from disrespectful. It shows Eben’s lucid, heartfelt religious understanding, along with above-average knowledge of all that takes place in the making of brandy.

My co-author of this column, the recently deceased Martie Retief Meiring, would surely be sitting alongside Harry and the angels, though with a glass of Stellenbosch red wine. How that made its way to heaven, only Martie would know. What a pity we won’t get to hear her version of this story.