Far better being His son

"A servant does not abide in the house forever, but a son does abide forever." - John 8:35

Think about that for a moment. Put a story together in your mind about how that would look. A servant / slave / maid doesn't stay in the master's house forever, but a son does. Let me put something out for you...

Suppose a multi billionaire has a servant that cleans the home, runs after the family and serves in whichever way is required. He is an employee and as employee, receives a wage for the work he does. He may even have a bonus scheme worked into his package. No matter how well this servant treats the master billionaire, runs after his wife and cleans up after their son; a time comes where at the end of the day he has to leave. He retires to the his servant quarters. He may receive his bonus and maybe even a meal. But he still has to leave.

Lets say that same billionaire has a son who's as lazy as hell, doesn't bother to work, sleeps until 10 am, hasn't the foggiest idea how to tidy up after himself and sucks whatever he can get out of his father's wealth in order to support his cravings for gadgets, computers and the like. This son may be the laziest, most ungrateful kid in the land, but he stays with his father. His poor performance doesn't change the fact that he's still the son of a billionaire. His father still welcomes him at the dinner table, to his private bedroom for chats as they lie on the bed, his father is still willing to pay for his son's studies at any learning institution in the world. No amount of laziness, lack of gratitude or bad performance could ever kick the son out of the billionaire's house. It was his father's home.

In the story, no matter how well the servant treats his master and performs in his job; he's still the servant and he has no permanent place in the father's home. No matter how well he performs, he'll never be welcome at the father's table, into his room or more importantly, into his heart. The best he'll get is a 13th cheque and a pat on the back. He's a servant. He works hard, he does his job to the best of his ability because he works for a wage. At the end of the day he has to leave.

The son however, never has to fear being thrown out or scared about being disowned. His bad behavior can never un-make his sonship. He never earned his sonship through good behavior in the past. He was born to the billionaire. He was born into intimacy. No matter what he does, there is always place at his day's table or besides him in his bed and most definitely in his father's heart. He's a son. Forever and ever. A son.

"A servant does not abide in the house forever, but a son does abide forever." - John 8:35

How much retirement planning should one plan for?

It's funny how, when growing up, a person feels invincible. Think about it. You hardly ever get sick. You visit the doctor two to three times a year; and maybe only taking antibiotics twice a year. "Sick?? I don't get sick." Many folks in their 60's and 70's whom I know  also used to say that. Something happened when they hit 45 though. Things like kidney problems, gall stones, back issues and caterax started to plague them. 

It's funny how when growing up, we live for the here and now. We don't give much thought to when we hit 50 or 60 or even 90. We're 30, we're peaking and we have lots to live for. We hardly give any thought to pension plans or retirement annuities. We hardly ever think about how we're going to live when we can't earn a salary any more do we? 

The thing is though....how much time should we spend thinking about our retirement? How much money should we be putting aside now for that stage of our lives? I mean, how long are we talking about? 10 years? 20 years? 40 years? Some people live till they're 90 you know! How much financial planning should we be putting in? And also, are we willing to sacrifice our "living" now for a time when we can't do much "living" when we're older anyway? What happens if we sacrifice financially now and then we die when we hit 60? We could have done so much more "living"when we were alive and able. How much is too little? How much is too much?

I think a balanced approach would be wise. Having a pension plan or an RA now in place; and probably a house. At least when a person hits 60, they don't have to pay a bond or rent any more. And for normal households, that's around 30% of their monthly income. Making sure they have a medical aid would be crucial. A really good one as well. But how much does that cost? And more importantly, how much WILL it cost? Medical aids aren't cheap you know; and you DO NOT want to land up in a South African government hospital (ask anyone who's been to one). 

And living expenses in 30 years time is another story:
Did you know that a 2lt Coke was R4.99 in 1996. In 17 years the cost has tripled. Think about this with me...if that's the case, then simple maths tells us that in the year 2030, the cost of a 2lt Coke will be around R45.00. If you're 40 years old now, 2030 will be a mere 2 years into your 'retirement'. 
Did you know that the cost of fuel (petrol unleaded) was R7.08 p/litre in May 2008. It's now R12.10 a mere 5 years later. To fill up my car in 2008 cost just over R400. It now costs just over R700. It's only 5 years later. Imagine the cost of fuel in 2040????

The scary thing is that today I see many older folk who struggle - they have had to cut their medical aids, they live barely making ends meet and they some are living in old age homes because they have no homes for whatever reason. The only really well off older folks are the ones who were quite rich when they were able to work, and so had the money to set aside for their retirement. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. I'm 32. And I have 336 months to go till I reach 60. That's 336 more months to put aside some savings for when I stop earning a salary at all. Am I doing enough. How you doing?

Money, Match Fixing and Cricket

It always disappoints me when I read/hear of match fixing of any kind in the sport I love to play and watch. The story of Hansie's fall was an eye opener for me as to how much easy money one can make without actually doing anything to jeapodize the outcome of the game. Below is the article written by Neil Manthorpe about the latest fixing in India during the IPL. 

"Three Indian cricketers from the Rajasthan Royals IPL franchise have been arrested by Delhi police for ‘spot-fixing’. Or ‘over-fixing’ as the cops called it in their statement. Here are some FAQs I have encountered in the last 24 hours:

Q – What the hell happened?

A – Three bowlers – two ‘no-names’ and Shantakumaran Sreesanth who was once brilliantly talented and played 27 tests and 53 ODIs for India – allegedly accepted money from match-fixers to concede a given number of runs (or more) in a given over.

Q – How difficult is that to do?

A – Pretty tricky because all three players were required to concede 13 or 14 runs in their stated over and one of them was one short! He only conceded 13 and he was supposed to have conceded 14. Bowling pies is pretty straightforward but you can’t be certain that the batsman won’t top-edge one straight up in the air and be caught!

Q – How do the gamblers know which over to bet on?

A – The bowlers gave a predetermined signal. They played with their watch or, in Sreesanth’s case, he placed a towel in the top of his trousers at the start of his second over and then helpfully indulged in some stretching and loosening up exercises to allow the punters some extra time to place their bets.

Q – How much were they paid?

A – Sreesanth, who was on a contract with the Royals of $400 000, was allegedly paid around $75 000 to bowl his six pies. If proven guilty, it will end his career. Doesn’t seem worth it, does it? Doesn’t make sense. Ajit Chandila and Ankeet Chavan were on much smaller contracts so the ‘bribe’ may have been more tempting, but it’s still not worth ending their careers.

Q – So why did they do it?

A – Have you ever actually seen $50 000 in cash? Or $100 000? Has anyone held it out to you and said ‘you can have this, it’s all yours. I just need one small favour…’

Q – There are some players, though, who can’t be bought? Surely?

A – Maybe, but Hansie Cronje taught us that nobody, ever, should be presumed untouchable. Nobody. Greed and obsession can strike anyone, without reason or logic.

Q – Is this an isolated incident? Or is the IPL just a fertile breeding ground for match-fixers and gamblers?

A – The gambling industry in India, which is illegal, is worth billions of dollars a year. If organised correctly, each of those three corrupt overs could have been worth tens of millions of dollars. No, it’s not isolated. And yes, it’s very fertile.

Q – How were they caught?

A – Recorded cellphone conversations and BBMs, and tracking huge movements on the betting markets.

Q – Sad day for cricket!

A – No. It’s never a sad day when cheats and criminals are caught.

Q – How do we eradicate it?

A – That will never happen. Impossible. While there is money around, there will be corruption. And even if a cricketer is immune to the lure of money, there is love and lust, both of which can and have been used to entrap sportsmen."

Sad. Really sad.

Lie to me

If you google 'Lie to me TV series wikipedia', you'll get a boring synopsis that reads:
Lie to Me is an American crime drama television series. In the show, Dr. Cal Lightman and his colleagues in The Lightman Group accept assignments from third parties (commonly local and federal law enforcement), and assist in investigations, reaching the truth through applied psychology: interpreting micro expressions, through the Facial Action Coding System, and body language.

If you had to ask me, "So Ross, what's the Lie to me TV series like?" I'd reply by jumping off my chair and while doing a star jump and proudly proclaiming "FREAKING BRILLIANT, OFF THE HOOK, A MASTERPIECE NEXT TO NONE!!!! AWESOME!! RADICAL!!! " Okay, probably not so calming....but! I might be over dramatizing it a bit but hear me out dude: It's brilliant. You're speaking to a movie/series fanatic here (well, if you asked me that is). I've watched over 1000 movies and over 100 series in my life (I don't think thats a lie either), so I think every now and then I know what I'm talking about, and the truth is that Lie to me is an excellent show! It takes on fantastic real life scenarios, mixes it with some excellent actors who play interesting characters, and introduce an unknown science to the viewer that is quite captivating: the science of micro expressions, manipulators, leakage and indicators in the way people lie. It unravels the science that lie-telling ain't a cultural learning but a natural human instinct that can be spotted, if looking for it, on anyone. It's a fascinating show.    

The show is inspired by the work of of a guy named Paul Ekman, the world's foremost expert on facial expressions and a professor emeritus of psychology at the University of California San Francisco School of Medicine. Paul Ekman has served as an advisor to police departments and anti-terrorism groups and acted as a scientific consultant in the production of the series. In the TV series, the main character is a guy named Cal Lightman, unbelievably portrayed by Tim Roth, who is one of the most raw people you'll ever see. He suffers from a god complex, he's extremely intelligent and cuts to the crap. It's a character which most viewers would want on their side if they had to pick teams for lie competition! 

I've watched 19 episodes in 6 days (2 days I didn't watch anything) and I've enjoyed every one of them. So I beg you in the most severe way possible - hire or download ...get hold of 'Lie to me - Season 1 Episode 1" - you won't stop. And, you'll thank me.  

My Blackberry Bold 9900

Okay, I admit it, I am crazy about gadgets. You know, iPads, iPods, Plasma screen TVs, Blackberrys, Blueray players. It's true what they say about us guys - our toys are still for boys, except now they cost an arm and a leg. Literally!

Last week Monday I woke up at around 6:20am and it felt like Christmas morning. It was the day for my cellphone upgrade...drum roll...roll out the red carpet.I entered Vodacom that morning feeling like Richard Branson....I felt important. I don't know why. I was just getting a new piece of plastic with which to make phone calls. It's funny how the craving to have an 'image' grabs us as times. I was caught between a Blackberry Bold 9900 or an iPhone 5. I compared the features and the monthly price. I chose the Bold 9900. I like Blackberry. I like BBM, even though Whatsapp is free for all smartphones. I don't know, I suppose I feel more 'at home' with Blackberry. So I made my decision. "Bold 9900 it is!" I told the Vodacom guy. It was the white one. I opened the box and smiled at my new toy. My heart literally began racing. I signed on the dotted lines and paid my R105 starter fee. That was it - I had my new phone!

I took it to work and put it on charge. I was so proud. That night I charged it to the full, all ready for the next day - Tuesday. I set my ring tones, downloaded my preferred pics and photos, downloaded some songs and videos from  my laptop and inserted most of my contact details. I was ready. My Bold 9900 was awesome! I left the office that night and as I walked outside I realised my phone was in my pocket. I reached for it and pulled it out. And then...the unspeakable happened. It happened in slow motion. Time actually froze - like in the Matrix. I saw it leave my hand and head towards the tiles in the flash of an eye. *CRASH!!!* My heart sank and I grabbed for it as fast as I could hoping if I grabbed it quick enough it would be okay. It wasn't. The screen was bust. Thank God I insured the darn thing. But heck, it was bust. My new toy. My beloved gadget. I had committed the unpardonable sin. I dropped it. It was barely 24 hours old. Has this ever happened to you?? Nothing could cheer me up. I was angry. I was very cross with myself.

Vodacom couldn't do anything and neither could Blackberry. It was broken. And it was my fault. One day into a 2 year contract and my phone was useless. R7,699 worth of phone broken. Vodacom suggested I take it to a Vodacare shop that repairs phones. "YES! Of course!" I said. I took it first thing Saturday morning. I pleaded with them to create a miracle on my behalf and in agony ( I'm a good actor!) I pleaded my case....I'm sure they bought my desperation. I left it with them. Hoping. And praying.

An hour later I received a call to say I could come and collect it. They had replaced the screen. They were checking the software, but all seemed normal. It was ready for collection...AAAAND....it was done for free. I was blown away. Upon receiving the call I was at a restaurant with my family. Right there and then, I broke into a jig resembling Justin Bieber and Usher! (I thought the moves were quite impressive.) I collected my phone and I was happy again. My pride and joy was fixed. My gadget was repaired and returned back to me! Aaahhhhh....the relief, the joy.

It kind of makes me wonder....if that's how I felt over a blinking phone, imagine how God feels about us. And to follow that up with another question: Think how He feels when we get broken.Just a thought....

PDV - the former coach Springbok supporters will never forget

"You can never write the Cheetahs off you know. Any team has a chance to win but remember they also have 50% chance to lose." I chuckled to myself after hearing this campy statement from Peter De Villiers, the man who AlgoaFM is using this year as their Super 15 'expert'.

I have never been a Peter De Villiers fan. I could never make sense of what he said, while at times he did display some acute rugby knowledge. But I do think PDV is his worst enemy. Just have a look at this video clip to see my point: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vi8ioPBh2vo

I haven't read his book, but I want too. I believe he holds nothing back while exposing SARU's short comings and mistreatment of him. I still remember watching the press conference of his appointment and gasping at Oregon Hoskins' reply to a jounalist's question regarding the criteria of PDV's appointment - "it was not made on pure rugby alone." He then spoke in circles while admitting that Peter was an affirmative action appointment. If PDV was white, I'm sure his cheeks would have reddened in embarrassment. Right there - it was quite clear - this was going to be a hard road for the man whom SARU admitted wasn't good enough. To my shock, while reading through his book at Exclusive Books (we all do it!), his contract with SARU still hadn't been finalized or agreed too.

But still, with everything that's transpired over the past few years, I still have my reservations about the man whom many Springboks supporters loved to hate. Especially when he makes dumb ass comments like he did this morning.    

The Department of 3 Months!

What is it with our government departments? Everything takes over 3 months to get done whether it be certificates, diplomas, etc. Other countries, with better systems in place take 14 working days at the most. Why are we the '3 MONTH’ nation??

I wanted my N6 Diploma. The actual thing – the piece of paper. I passed the subjects and I've been qualified for over 10 years. I passed with 3 distinctions. But still to this day - no actual document to brag with. Or proof! Last year I decided that enough was enough and that I needed this darn piece of paper. On 6 May I applied again, sent my documents. In December 2012 I had received my 3 certificates (N4, N5, N6). I then needed a letter from my employer proving that I have worked in the field in which I studied. I took them my employer’s letter. I was then told it was the wrong format. "So what format must it be" I asked. They then gave me a template example to follow. I took the letter back to them - the original. They sent it off on 2 March 2013.

On 4 May I received a letter in the post with my application to say that my application for my N6 diploma had been rejected because I needed an ORIGINAL letter from my employer. BUT IT WAS!! It's not my fault my company's letterhead is black and white. They thought it was a copy and sent it back. It took them 2 months - TWO MONTHS - 60 DAYS - to receive it, deny me and send it back. I was furious to say the least. I got a guy in my company to colour our company's letterhead blue (just for this purpose) and took them the letter. It was rejected. "WHAT NOW??" I pleaded. It didn't have a company stamp on the letter. No one, up until now, had said anything about a company stamp. I then got it stamped and took it in today.

I am one frustrated South African. Why is my country's internal system so inefficient? Why does there seem to be a 'don't-care' attitude with most government officials??

As a huge supporter of South Africa cricket, I sometimes wish I could have been present at some of the best matches our guys have played - 438 game, beating Oz in the Tests 2-1 2008, So I wrote the following piece about what it could have been like if I were to have experienced the Allan Donald vs Mike Atherton duel back in 1998 at Trent Bridge. I hope you enjoy!

Trent Bridge 1998

It was only days ago when my heart sank as Angus Fraser blocked out Allan Donald’s over to secure England a draw at Old Trafford. And now, needing to put up a fight in the 3^rd innings and again put England under the kosh, the boys were throwing it away. Shucks! England were given just over a day to score 242 to seal the deal. “My bru, we need a blinking miracle if we going to pull this off!” I mumbled to the oke behind me. He was just as dumbfounded at our boys’ batting display. Someone will have to rise to the challenge! Hansie would surely have to turn to White Lightning! Forty minutes ago the Proteas were all out for a meager 208. It was the 4^th afternoon of the 3^rd Test. The Proteas batted first scoring 374 with Hansie making a valiant century, carting their debut spinner to all four corners of the park. England replied with a gutsy 336 to make sure they were still in the fight.

The boys took the field, and within a few overs Shaun nicked off Butcher. Hussain strode in. He was in with Atherton. “We need another wicket tonight if we going to have a chance of cleaning them up tomorrow’ I thought. I saw Hansie gesturing to his number one strike bowler to warm up. “This was it! This was surely the game’s defining moment.” My excitement was mounting. Over up. Allan walked up and gave his cap to Steve Dunne and marked out his run up. Atherton, having a chat with Hussain, peered through his helmet’s visor; he must have sensed what Allan was getting ready to dish up. I clapped my hands together in anticipation; geeing myself up. When Donald took the ball, anything could happen. Little did I know but the next 40 minutes would forever be recorded in the great annuals of cricket history. Allan, after the first ball, decided to come around the wicket. “Whoo Hoo – let him have it AD!” I screamed, knowing some short fire balls into Atherton’s rib cage were coming up. The atmosphere in the ground was silently electric as AD ran in. It was short. It was nicked. Taken! I jumped. I screamed! “Got him! It brushed the glove! Yes baby!” I joined in with my Proteas as they celebrated. Kallis ran from first slip to a cheering Donald as did the rest of the guys. Atherton was out. Time stopped. My stomach sank. “You can’t be bloody serious.” I shouted. The umpire was unmoved. No raised finger. Celebrations ceased. Not out. The Barmy Army cheered even louder. I was the mooring. But flip was I pumped. I could see Allan dropping some f-bombs mid pitch while Hussain, at the other end, just smiled and turned away; knowing the luck he’d just seen. Allan turned around and walked back to his mark. Atherton, without uttering a word, trudged down the wicket, tapped a few cracks, and surveyed the field. He cleared his head and fronted up for the 3^rd ball of the over. Four more balls were bowled. No wicket. 

This was getting tense. We needed that second wicket. We had to get it. Allan had to get it. 15 minutes past, and Allan was still on the rampage. The boys were clapping and getting in the batter’s ears. Hussain was looking nervous. Donald glided in, jumped, landed and released. Hussain fended and Boucher grabbed. I leapt from my seat. “There it is. That’s the wicket we needed.” I shouted in the split second as the ball skimmed off Hussain’s bat and into Mark’s gloves. And then, like a slow motion replay, it popped out. “NOOOOOOOO!!!!” Donald screamed in disbelief. “Jislaik it! How could this be happening! Atherton edged it and he’s given not out. Hussain edged it and the keeper drops it. What’s going on?” the guy pleaded behind me. What made us feel worse was that replays showed that if Jacques had stayed at first slip, he would have been perfectly positioned for Mark’s rebound. The proverbial ‘if” strikes again. The disappointment on the young Mark’s face was clear to all; he never meant to drop it; who does? Even Allan’s bum tap gesture after the over couldn’t make up for what some of us thought was the game changer. To many supporters it was a game to forget and yet, to others of us, we’ll reminisce about that 4^th afternoon duel for many years to come. We saw history unfold before our eyes and it was glorious. Truly.