23 September 2009

Castor is the new Zola

When I first saw Caster Semenya, I wanted to give her a manly high-five, writes Chris McEvoy.


When I first saw Caster Semenya, I wanted to give her a manly high-five. Even in those glorious nanoseconds just after her victory and before everyone ruined her life, I thought that she wouldn't be out of place as a guest on the Jerry Springer Show. You know, on one of those "Honey, I Have Something to Tell You" specials.

She'd walk onto the soundstage, grotesquely girled up, just like she was on that wretched YOU cover, and everyone in the room would know immediately that she was a he. Everyone, that is, except for the trailer-park beer receptacle that's been married to her for the last two years.

It's great entertainment when it's happening to some crackerhead nobody on the other side of the world, but we South Africans are very defensive about our 15-minute idols – so much so, that we tend to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room.

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