You’ll think you’ve cracked the code. “Kick off at 7:45 PM in Johannesburg? That’s 3:45 PM in Perth!” you announce triumphantly. But then your mate says, “Nah, mate, daylight saving ended last week.” Suddenly, you’re an amateur astronomer with a broken sundial.
It’s like trying to plan a BBQ with a relative who lives in a different galaxy. You ask, “When should I put the snags on?” and they say, “When the moon is over the braai stand.” Utterly useless.
Why the wait feels like a marathon
I remember one Saturday last season. I had my jersey on, a cold one in hand, and my lucky socks—the ones with the dodgy elastic. TV said “Kick Off: 7:15 PM AEST.” I settled in. Then the pre-game show dragged on. The anthems felt longer than a school assembly. By the time the whistle blew, I’d already eaten my body weight in chips from nervous anticipation.
It’s the same feeling as waiting for your pizza delivery when you’re starving. You watch the tracker, you refresh the page, and finally—arriving soon. That’s the Force vs Lions kick-off time. It teases you.
