
The former Springbok coach (2004-2007) underwent emergency surgery to remove part of his small intestine a few weeks ago, an operation that saved his life – and brought a new perspective to his daily activities.
In a letter to the public White told how rugby is like life and death for people, how lucky he is to be there, and exactly what happened when he got sick a few weeks ago.
White, who was in charge of the Boks when they won the World Cup in 2007, said he now had a new and different perspective on life and rugby and that it was important to enjoy every competition, “and not get bogged down by the feeling that it’s do or die.”
He added in the letter, “I’ve been given another shot at life, literally, and I’m very happy with what I’m doing. And I’ll live and the coach knows how lucky I am. Because I know, it can be taken from you quickly. You can here and tomorrow gone.”
“For most of my career as a coach, rugby matches were like life and death for me. The next try was life or death for me. But when you’re lying in intensive care with a tube stuck down your throat, you quickly realize what life and death really comes down to . It’s not the next attempt. It’s the next heartbeat, and the hope that it will happen.
I started feeling sick around the time of United’s Rugby Championship game against the Stormers shortly before Christmas last year. Next week going to the game against the Sharks I’ll practice and then come back and just sleep. It got progressively worse to the point when we came to Wales for the tour we couldn’t even get out of bed.
I thought it might be COVID, but I started having stomach cramps. Not long after I returned to South Africa after the tour, I was rushed to the hospital for emergency stomach surgery caused by a blood clot in my small intestine.
Lucky to be alive
This experience has changed everything for me because I feel so blessed to be alive.
You know, as a coach, your job is to motivate the players and you may often go into textbooks or speeches that you often see in movies. You know that. ‘Boys, let’s die for each other outside today’. ‘Don’t give up’. ‘Fight to the end’. ‘If you fall, don’t get down.’ That’s how it is.
But let me tell you, when death is as close and real as the metronomic beeps of ventilators and heart monitors, and the silence of a quiet hospital room replaces the cheers of thousands of fans, saying smart doesn’t mean much. That’s when you have to walk.
Lotto tickets
When I was coaching the Springboks, I often told the players that the Test match was called for a reason. It’s a test. But you just know that you are facing the biggest test of your life. And that’s when you realize how lucky you are to escape with your life.
This is what made the biggest impact on me. This wasn’t the actual surgery, but how the surgeon explained all the things that could go wrong during this ordeal, and how my fate was.
When I came out of surgery, as a joke I asked the surgeon, “Doc, should I buy a Lotto ticket?” He was very serious when he looked at me and said, “Jake, you used it”.
He explained that if the aneurysm had entered my brain, I would have had a stroke. If it had entered my heart, I would have had a heart attack. If it had entered my lungs, it would have collapsed.
I found out later that this last scenario is how many people have died during the COVID-19 pandemic. So the fact that the blood clot was in the stomach area was the first miracle.
Three miracles
Then the surgeon explained how he had to cut out 30cm of my small intestine because it was dead. They said that if the dead part was only a few centimeters lower and closer to my colon, I would have had problems and would probably have to use an external bag for the rest of my life because my colon had been reconstructed. .
I am 59 years old. I’m still young. I can’t imagine having to carry a bag for the rest of my life. So the fact that there is enough small intestine left for the patch is the second miracle.
Then he explained, because a part of my small intestine had died, it was causing the problem. If something explodes or breaks while I’m on the next plane, he says there’s nothing they can do for me on the plane. I shudder to even think that something happened while I was on tour. It is the third miracle.
Three miracles. Or in my rugby parlance, the kind of three-pointer that actually saves your life.
And then when I was recovering in intensive care, even the ability to perform the smallest bodily functions became a lifeline for you. It’s no longer about this season or the next, or the bigger picture or the five-year plan and so on.
The next heartbeat
Life is condensed down to the smallest detail of the next heartbeat, the next breath, and even the smallest bodily functions if you can do the box for the doctor, and if you can’t send a major red flag for the doctor.
The doctor explained to me that every time he removed one of the tubes down my throat, I was one day closer to being released. But then your mind starts racing. When they take out this pipe, I will be fine without it? Will everything work as expected?
One of the complications during surgery in the abdominal area is that the stomach or large intestine can become spam and cannot be used. Or even a blood clot in the first place. What caused it, and how can we prevent it from happening again? A seemingly small answer suddenly becomes a major answer.
A balanced perspective
All this has given me more perspective on life and rugby. While lying in intensive care, I had a lot of time to think and think. I think how lucky I am to be involved in rugby. And I will use it now. As a coach I will use this balanced perspective has been given.
Yes, there is pressure in professional rugby. As players and coaches, we all feel it. I remain as competitive as I am now and will continue to be. But the enjoyment of what is our privilege must be there too. I will push that on the Bulls even more than I have. The joy of competition, and not to be stifled by the feeling that this is do or die.
The average age of the players I coach is 24. They are young, and I want to learn the principles. Principles we all talk about as people. But to live them, and to live the fact that they are here one day and may not be here the next, totally different.
Support
I have been given another shot at life, literally, and to truly enjoy what I do. And I will live and the coach knows how lucky I am. Because I know, it can be quickly taken from you. You can be here and leave tomorrow.
We all say we know this, but if you’re a resident, it’s different. Also, don’t consider the support messages you send to people in these situations. I beg you. Don’t send messages to people in these situations because you feel it’s the right thing to do. Then don’t do it. Only do it if you really want to.
I am amazed at the number of people in rugby who send messages from their hearts. This is a sign to me that this rugby family is great.
When I came out of surgery I asked the doctor if the Stormers had won the match. I didn’t ask because I’m addicted to rugby. I asked for another reason. Hope. I have realized that like life, if you have a team and you still have a chance, you have hope. You have the next heartbeat. If the Stormers win we won’t have a chance this season. But now we do.
We live.
And this is all we have.