Look — we say this with love, with a beer raised, and with the full respect due to a man who once kicked Loftus into orbit. But this week the Liefling van Loftus, Derick Hougaard, launched a GoFundMe for his rent, food and monthly bills, wrote “Every little bit helps,” aimed at roughly R327,000 — and a whole country that is currently grinding through loadshedding, petrol hikes and month-end maths collectively looked up from its own empty wallet and said: boet… us too. And on this one, ScrumAtMe is standing shoulder to shoulder with the okes in the comment section. Sorry Derick. We love you. Now update the CV.
The maths of the rugby rockstar that nobody wants to hear
Here's the arithmetic the whole nation did in its head. You earned CEO money in your twenties — proper CEO money — while touring the planet and living like the drummer in a band that never got told last rounds. It's the golden years: the parties, the paycheques, the mysterious little dust under the nose that you swear on your boots you know nothing about, officer. Nobody's judging the highlight reel. But a country where the average oke is stretching one salary across a whole family is a very tough crowd to pass the hat around, especially when the hat once held a Springbok flyhalf's wages. Live like a rockstar for a decade and the encore, unfortunately, is a job. Sorry. That's just how the song ends.
The comment section: and honestly? The okes cooked
Normally we defend the little guy against the pitchfork mob. Not today — today the mob had jokes AND a point. “He can go work like the rest of us, sweet vir jou geld,” said one, to 205 salutes. “Welcome to the real world buddy,” offered another, gently. “Pro rugby players earn millions and live like rockstars and then life happens?” asked a third, arms folded, unimpressed. And the MVP of the entire thread: the oke who pointed out that Derick could stroll into any bank on reputation alone, and that if he simply opened “a small koekie besigheid in Pretoria he would have to fight off the money.” Chef's kiss. That is the most South African sentence ever typed. Sir, you have solved it — the man is one koeksister stall away from solvency, and honestly, we'd queue.
Enter Chris Cloete, galloping in on a white horse
Then, right on cue, up rode Chris Cloete — the granite flanker of Munster and Bath — swinging the gate open to defend his boy. “99% of you don't know the struggles of a professional sportsman,” he wrote, laying out the injuries, the expectations, the brutal transition from sport to real life. And listen: fair play, Chris. It's a real thing, it's a good-hearted thing to say, and standing up for a mate is proper clubhouse behaviour. We tip the cap to the sentiment. But — and we say this as we hand you a lukewarm Castle — a heartfelt paragraph doesn't pay Derick's Eskom bill, boet. The speech was lovely. The country still politely disagrees.
Tough love, because that IS love, Derick
So here's the ScrumAtMe verdict, delivered with a hand on the shoulder and a klap on the back: step it up, my broer. You are not out of options — you are sitting on a goldmine and calling it a graveyard. That Springbok badge is a skeleton key in this country: it opens doors to punditry, to coaching, to kicking clinics, to ambassador gigs, to that legendary koekie besigheid, to a hundred honest hustles where the name Derick Hougaard still makes people grin and reach for their wallet the RIGHT way. Reputation is currency and yours hasn't expired — so go and spend it on a job, not a jar. The whole point isn't that we don't care. It's that we care enough to say the thing your yes-men won't: get up, dust off (the good kind of dusting off), and go earn it. We're rooting for the comeback — the working kind.
Because this is exactly how you're SUPPOSED to walk off
And for the blueprint, look no further than this week's other headline: Springbok and Bulls prop Lizo Gqoboka announced his retirement, and did it like a grown man — thanking his faith, his wife, his three boys, and a career of “growth, challenges and meaningful connections.” A URC-winning warhorse, hanging them up with his head high, his family under his arm, and a plan in his pocket. THAT is the postcard. No hat passed around, no GoFundMe, just a champion closing one chapter and calmly opening the next. Take a photo of it, frame it, and put it on the fridge.
So no hard feelings, Derick — from the bottom of our loadshedding hearts, we're behind you. Just behind you in the queue at the job centre, not behind you at the ATM. Salute to Chris Cloete for having a mate's back, salute to Lizo Gqoboka for showing how it's done, and a firm, loving South African klap to the Liefling of Loftus: you gave us the magic, now go make the money the honest way. The party's over, boet. The good news is the country's still on your side — the second you pick up a shovel. Nou gaan werk. 🇿🇦