KEVIN MCCALLUM: Cheers to Derek Watts, a giant of a man

There aren’t many pictures of Derek Watts and me together. It’s a hard ask for a photographer to get a skyscraper of a man and one the height of a small cottage into the same frame.

But there is one that I hold dear. In it, Derek and I are walking through the Mauritius airport having a good old natter. We were there for the 2016 Change a Life tour, an annual fundraising cycle tour involving some of SA’s top executives. Four days and 400km of riding lay ahead.

In that photo, Derek and I were talking about the Paralympics in Rio, which I had just returned from covering. We spoke about how the Paralympics had changed over the five editions I had attended since Sydney in 2000, and how it transcended sport. He wanted to know about Ntando Mahlangu, the 14-year-old who had won silver in the 200m sprint.

Mahlangu was born with fibular hemimelia — his legs did not develop below his knees — and in 2012, after he had spent most of his life in a wheelchair, it was decided to amputate his legs. Four years later, Mahlangu was a Paralympic medallist. It was a fairy tale — and Derek loved a good news story as much as he took pride in uncovering the bad.

Change a Life is a very social event. Derek, as the most social of social folk, was the heart and soul of it. The best bit of a day’s riding is the reward of a beer at the end of it and, inevitably, Derek would be the one leading the charge to the bar. A natural storyteller, he would regale us with extraordinary tales of adventure and misadventure, told with his casual elegance, so unaffected and funny.

Eight years ago, Derek Alberts interviewed him on 702 about his early days as a sports journalist. He had started off on The Herald in Harare as the “national rugby writer”. He moved to SABC to anchor Top Sport with Martin Locke in 1985. The big men in sport at that time were Louis Luyt and Ali Bacher, and Derek’s “job was running between their offices”. 

“I remember going to Louis Luyt’s office one day and standing outside his office for maybe an hour and a half. Eventually the man came out and we were talking about Transvaal, as it was then. And he said, ‘no comment’,” said Derek. “I went back to the SABC news office and the phone rang, and it was his secretary. She said, ‘Dr Luyt has just said that he doesn’t want to be quoted on that ‘no comment’.”

His bosses at the SABC had very different priorities: “I wore the same old jacket every day, there was no makeup. I’d been doing it for three years. There was no feedback, no ‘you are doing well’ or badly. Sakkie Burger, head of news, cornered me in the passage one day. ‘Derek, I just want to ask you, my wife wants to know why you changed your parting (in your hair).’ That was the first comment after three years and it was about the parting in my hair.”

One of my fondest and vaguest memories of Derek is from Dan Nicholl’s wedding. Derek, his wife Belinda, Jacqui and David O’Sullivan and I were at the same table. Derek got hold of a bottle of tequila and convinced quite a few people that drinking triple tequila on ice would not only not make you drunk, it would sober you up. As David wrote in his tribute to his old friend, “no-one turns down a chance to have tequila shots with Derek. He got that reception moving at high speed very quickly.”

Dan Nicholl was close to Derek and wrote of the Derek he knew: “There was also Derek the philanthropist, Kirsty’s foundation just one of the many platforms he championed. Derek the charmer, adored by almost everyone, especially my children. Derek the dancer, as his brilliant Castle Lite commercial demonstrated. Derek the comedian, finding a laugh in any situation. And Derek the friend, always on the other end of the phone to help out, offer counsel, or simply keep you entertained.”

His passing marks the loss of a man who lived life fully, a household name, an SA icon who was the best of human beings.

As David wrote this week: “When I think of this self-effacing, gentle, fun-loving, giant of a man, with a ready smile and laugh, I immediately remember his unhurried gait, his goofy laugh, his impish sense of humour, his kindness and his humility. And his ability to get a party going.”

Cheers for now, Derek.