There will never be another Robbie
There is a void in the Windhoek city centre where the number one supporter of the people's game used to frequent. There is no place Robbie Savage has not been and there is no one who can say that they have not seen him somewhere in town. The town's keeper, I call him.
Robbie started off as a rugby mascot in the mid '80s and later moved on to football. Robbie was a friend to many, and enemy to none. When there was a football match, if not African Stars then Brave Warriors, he would be first at the field, as if inspecting the field before it gets played on. If he was not watching a football match, he would frequent shops around the city centre and people knew what he needed before he asked.
He would then trek to Nando's and buy himself a hot meal. Not one for ordinaries. Satisfied, he would continue to help passers-by carry their groceries to their cars. That was the man many knew.
Many saw Robbie on TV, sitting next to big names in the football fraternity. Chatting away as if they were old friends. Sometimes he would stand up, walk onto the field and should instructions at the Brave Warriors. Nobody could tell Robbie what to do and what not to do. If a player did not play to his liking, he would hear Robbie's voice on top of that of the coach. That was who he was. He did not need permission to be involved.
He did not like it when fans threw beer or cooldrink cans onto the field. He would walk up to them and order them to pick up their mess.
As much as Robbie went about town, chatting and helping people, he would sometimes just stand and watch. With his arms folded across his chest he would stand and stare as if looking into the future.
He was never in a rush to get somewhere. He took his time in his dealings and when he was done; his presence was always missed because he had left something special behind.
I do not remember the number of times I saw Robbie at a football match. I do not remember the number of times I spoke to him – teasing him as he responded quickly with a temper.
But I remember he was always there. How did he enter the stadium? Does he have a special pass, I would always ask myself, but Robbie was Robbie and he always got his way.
A friend of mine once told me how Robbie used to frequent her workplace because he knew they had a meal or some cash waiting for him.
She said that he was very sharp to answer whatever came to his mind. Sometimes offending people but then again putting a smile on their faces by offering to help them in some way.
When news broke that he passed away, social media went crazy as people shared memories of him. Tributes came in as far as Denmark. People remembered his impish smile.
Robbie was truly a man of the people. A character who feared nothing and no one. He was the middle man who closed the gap between football rivals – if you were for him, he was for you.
Fans and the football players he tormented with orders remember Robbie as a free spirit. Fields around town will never be the same as people will always search for the face of the man who made Namibian football what it is with his presence.
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Robbie started off as a rugby mascot in the mid '80s and later moved on to football. Robbie was a friend to many, and enemy to none. When there was a football match, if not African Stars then Brave Warriors, he would be first at the field, as if inspecting the field before it gets played on. If he was not watching a football match, he would frequent shops around the city centre and people knew what he needed before he asked.
He would then trek to Nando's and buy himself a hot meal. Not one for ordinaries. Satisfied, he would continue to help passers-by carry their groceries to their cars. That was the man many knew.
Many saw Robbie on TV, sitting next to big names in the football fraternity. Chatting away as if they were old friends. Sometimes he would stand up, walk onto the field and should instructions at the Brave Warriors. Nobody could tell Robbie what to do and what not to do. If a player did not play to his liking, he would hear Robbie's voice on top of that of the coach. That was who he was. He did not need permission to be involved.
He did not like it when fans threw beer or cooldrink cans onto the field. He would walk up to them and order them to pick up their mess.
As much as Robbie went about town, chatting and helping people, he would sometimes just stand and watch. With his arms folded across his chest he would stand and stare as if looking into the future.
He was never in a rush to get somewhere. He took his time in his dealings and when he was done; his presence was always missed because he had left something special behind.
I do not remember the number of times I saw Robbie at a football match. I do not remember the number of times I spoke to him – teasing him as he responded quickly with a temper.
But I remember he was always there. How did he enter the stadium? Does he have a special pass, I would always ask myself, but Robbie was Robbie and he always got his way.
A friend of mine once told me how Robbie used to frequent her workplace because he knew they had a meal or some cash waiting for him.
She said that he was very sharp to answer whatever came to his mind. Sometimes offending people but then again putting a smile on their faces by offering to help them in some way.
When news broke that he passed away, social media went crazy as people shared memories of him. Tributes came in as far as Denmark. People remembered his impish smile.
Robbie was truly a man of the people. A character who feared nothing and no one. He was the middle man who closed the gap between football rivals – if you were for him, he was for you.
Fans and the football players he tormented with orders remember Robbie as a free spirit. Fields around town will never be the same as people will always search for the face of the man who made Namibian football what it is with his presence.
[email protected]
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