Equipped for the challenges cricket will bring

Norman Arendse: a lightning rod for controversy © Getty Images

Alarm sirens must have rent the air the instant Norman Arendse became president of Cricket South Africa (CSA). That's if we take to heart the tone of much of the reporting of his unopposed election during the board's annual meeting at the weekend.

Arendse's elevation was greeted as the end of South African cricket as we know it, a dark day for all in this country who hold the game dear.

His opinion of all that: "Absolute crap." Arendse's skin really is that thick. It has to be, because he would seem to be a lightning rod for controversy.

A sampling: Arendse has been embroiled in the mess that is Zimbabwe cricket (he represented the then Zimbabwe Cricket Union in the 2004 racism hearings), he was cast as a bedfellow of toxically unpopular former South African rugby supremo Brian van Rooyen, and he has been tangled in the saga of the allegedly improper business relationships of John Hlophe, the judge president of the Western Cape. Inevitably some of the coverage of Arendse's wide-ranging career has been unfair. But he is not losing sleep over the picture the media tends to paint of him. "Good or bad, I can deal with it," he said.

In fact, Arendse would seem to be resigned to attracting the kind of attention most would try to avoid. He was just 16 when he clashed with the mighty Hassan Howa, the godfather of non-racial cricket in South Africa, over the latter's policy that cricketers who played at senior provincial level could not return to the lower rungs when they needed to overcome spells of poor form.

That was after Arendse, a top-order batsman and offspinner, had become the youngest player to represent Western Province. He was well established as a prodigy by then. He was just four years old when he first attended school, he was the first member of his family to matriculate, and he was a mere 16 when he began to study law at the University of Cape Town.

When Arendse qualified for his LLB, the university found itself in a quandary because of its regulation that the degree could not be conferred on students younger than 21. A plan was nonetheless made. "I was one of those youngsters who always challenged things," Arendse said.

In the South Africa of his youth there was much to challenge. His father began work, aged 12, as a chimney sweep in a power station. His mother was among the army of women who kept the country's textile industry on the march. Neither of Arendse's parents had any formal education to speak of. But they raised their six sons and Mr Arendse senior's three young brothers as best they could.

"It was hard," Arendse said. "My parents made every effort to provide enough food, but there were many nights without food. Thankfully, we always had shelter."

His upbringing, he feels, will stand him in good stead in his new position. "With the help of some hard life lessons, I think I'm very well equipped for the challenges that cricket will bring," he said. "I hate exclusivity, I hate unfairness, I hate all those things that I wouldn't want to happen to me."

Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to see youngsters of all races playing together without having to think about how that happened

Understandably, the transformation of cricket is high on Arendse's agenda. "My vision is that cricket must be a game for everybody," he said. "Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to see youngsters of all races playing together without having to think about how that happened."

He is wary of the tendency "to look at the national team and decide on [the basis of] that whether transformation is taking place or not". And he is aware of the other side of the coin: "If there is a perception that transformation or quotas can stop a young player from advancing in the game, that concerns me."

There are clear echoes of Percy Sonn in Arendse, and so there should be. "We come from the same community on the Cape Flats, we come from identical backgrounds," Arendse said. The bond was strengthened when Arendse, now a high-profile advocate, served his articles of clerkship under Sonn. Arendse was still playing when Sonn began his career in administration, but they would serve together on many committees.

Sonn's modest playing ability was overshadowed by his stellar skills as an administrator, but at 49 Arendse hasn't quite consigned himself solely to the blazered side of the boundary. "I've always got my kit in my boot," he said. "I make sure I'm registered as a player, and when the thirds or the fourths need someone I'm there."

Victoria Cricket Club is indeed fortunate to have him. Might most South Africans, even those who fear the worst in the wake of his election, come to think so, too?