The IPL's secret weapon

Francois Pienaar is an impressive man. This may not sound like news to South African readers, who regard the image of Pienaar holding aloft rugby's World Cup trophy in 1995, Nelson Mandela looking proudly on, as a seminal moment in the nation's emergence from the apartheid years. But to someone who has grown up outside the country, it is the kind of observation that is not easy to make until you actually meet the man.

Pienaar has been hired by Lalit Modi and the Indian Premier League to add the kind of ballast to public relations he used to provide at the back of the Springbok scrum. It was a very smart choice. Like his former English counterpart, Martin Johnson, Pienaar's very physicality commands respect. On top of that, he has a keener marketing mind than you would imagine for someone who built a career on going toe to toe with giant All Blacks and Wallabies, and the sort of moral authority most sportsmen can only dream of. When he was introduced to the pupils at the Alexander Sinton High School in Athlone on Friday, the roar almost shattered the windows. And that was from 1000 kids from another ethnic background.

Modi, being a shrewd cookie, knows he is on to a winner with Pienaar, even if he has had trouble pronouncing his name in public. Last night, as the IPL upped sticks along the coast to Port Elizabeth, Mr "Pini-air" was in the thick of things again, presenting a mid-innings slot highlighting the IPL's much-publicised HEAT (help for education and teaching) initiative in which rands are handed out to the underprivileged. The pupils - "learners" in the local parlance - behind him went berserk, allowing Modi to ride the crest of another wave as he handed over a large cheque.

The risk is that several weeks of this lark may breed insincerity, but up close Pienaar is as persuasive as he is on camera. He and a colleague, Etienne de Villiers, wandered up to the press box before the start of yesterday's match between Chennai Super Kings and Bangalore Royal Challengers and chatted openly about their excitement and hopes. Pienaar was frank, ingenuous and humble. And he has the handshake of a powerful vice. You can see why Modi wanted him on his side.

After that, he ushered a group of scruffy British hacks into the St George's Park presidential suite, telling us to mind where we stood in the rickety lift and showing us into a room laden with the kinds of culinary delights most journalists see only in their imagination. A glass of wine? Sorry, Francois, work to do. But you'll join us for some food afterwards? Honestly, Francois, deadlines call.

South Africa are keen to portray themselves as a can-do nation, and Modi is even keener to praise them for it. On the evidence so far, he has found himself the most authentic can-doer of the lot.