The sun rose a little differently over London on the morning of June 14, 2025. It glistened not only on the dome of St John’s Wood but also on the polished surface of the World Test Championship mace, newly clasped in the hands of South Africa’s head coach — my childhood friend, my neighbour, the boy from Number 65 Devon Road, Lansdowne: Shukri Conrad.
As the Proteas completed a historic five-wicket victory over Australia at Lord’s, the “Home of Cricket” became the canvas for a story half a century in the making. For Shukri and me — childhood comrades in cricket and chaos — this was not just a win. It was a homecoming of the heart.
READ PART ONE OF SHUKRI’S REMARKABLE STORY HERE:
The Backyard Baptism
We didn’t have manicured lawns or sponsored kits in Lansdowne. Our Lords was a cracked tar road. Our scoreboard was an old notepad. Our stumps were sewage drain covers. We played until the southeaster stole our light, crafting cover drives with taped-up tennis balls and cutting our teeth on makeshift turf. That wasn’t just play — that was pilgrimage.
“I remember it like yesterday,” Shukri told me after the final, a gold medallion glinting from his neck like the rising sun off a new innings.
“Those games on Devon Road — that’s where we learnt everything. Pressure, patience, pride. Cricket was our rebellion and our refuge.”
He smiled the way he used to after hitting a six over Boeta Majid Galant’s garage.
“We had no Facebook, Instagram, YouTube or TikTok. Our algorithm was imagination.”
Then he paused, eyes glinting with nostalgia, and shared a memory buried deep in our street cricket archives.
“When we hooked the ball for six it went into what we called ‘The Jungle’ [This refers to a well-known Claremont family nickname that is best not mentioned on this platform]. That was the double-storied home of Mr Mogamat Jacobs ‘Bappa’ — better known as ‘Boeta Gammatjie Wille’.
Mr Jacobs and his family operated the scoreboard at Newlands Cricket Ground since it was opened by then SA governor-general Brand van Zyl in 1948 – to say we were lucky to have him as our neighbour, is an understatement.
“As kids we would accompany him for scoreboard duty with his son-in-law’s Boeta Lorn’s beaten up old Volvo — our main task was to operate the overs. Our reward was a 250 ml dumpy Coke and a fruit cake. Whenever the TV cameras focused on the scoreboard, we poked our heads out of the small opening because we wanted to be on TV.
The scoreboard was a haven for dozens of other cricketers like Laam Raziet, Dik Abed, Timmy Lakay, Taliep Behardien, Faiek Davids and many others who went on to become top provincial cricketers. The ground floor of the three-level scoreboard even served as a prayer room!
“We always aspired to bigger things and dreamt of eventually operating the lights on the third floor. And looking back now, that’s where the dreams all started. Who would have thought it would end up lighting up the highest stage in cricket — holding up the WTC Mace at Lord’s with the whole world watching.”
Coaching from the margins to the Mace
Shukri Conrad holding up the WTC Mace at Lord’s
Appointed as national Test coach in early 2023, Shukri Conrad was never meant to be a headline act. Not in the traditional sense. He was the coach from the underbelly of the game — of dusty nets, chalked walls, and township fixtures. But if Test cricket is the ultimate measure of character, then Conrad was built for its long-format truths.
He stitched together a team not of stars, but of believers. Critics questioned his bold calls — naming Temba Bavuma replacing Dean Elgar as captain, backing Aiden Markram to return to form, playing Lungi Ngidi in a high-stakes final after ten months on ice. But Shukri wasn’t picking favourites. He was picking fighters.
And it worked.
On a see-sawing Lord’s wicket where 28 wickets fell in two days, South Africa needed just 69 on the final morning — a number Shukri didn’t miss.
“Isn’t that poetic?” he said. “We used to sneak balls into Number 69 Devon Road when we cleared the hedges. Maybe we were chasing this run all along.”
The Captain, The Cause
Temba Bavuma, limping with a torn hamstring, wasn’t supposed to bat. But like any great Protea, he refused to wilt.
“We weren’t just chasing runs,” Bavuma said through gritted pride. “We were chasing ghosts.”
Shukri had hand-picked him for this moment.
“Temba carries weight like a Test opener combats a new ball — with grit, not grumble. He plays for people who never had the chance.”
Together, they redefined leadership: one from Lansdowne, one from nearby Langa. One with a clipboard, one with a bat. Both with stories to honour.
The Ghosts they beat
South Africa’s past is a graveyard of near-misses. Edgbaston ‘99. Auckland 2015. Manchester 2019. But this team — this mosaic of resilience — didn’t flinch.
Aiden Markram’s ton was a tapestry of timing and tenacity. Keshav Maharaj wept for his father’s denied dreams. And Kyle Verreynne’s cover drive to seal the win was more than a shot — it was a release.
“I saw that ball pierce the off side,” Shukri said, wiping mist from his glasses, “and I swear, I saw the old wooden fence at Boeta Majid’s house crumble again.”
He wasn’t crying. Not exactly. But neither were his eyes dry.
Legacy of the Long Game
“This wasn’t just a cricket win,” Shukri said in the post-match huddle. “This was for the kid with a chalk-drawn crease. For the forgotten fields and forbidden players. For my father, Dickie, who never got to wear this badge but lived for this dream.”
Sedick Conrad passed away three months before the final. On his deathbed, he had whispered: “Just beat Australia one day.”
Poignantly, at the end of the funeral proceedings Shaykh Ebrahim Gabriels, himself a former provincial age-group cricketer, apologised for departing from the religious ambience as he prayed for the team to deliver success “for Boeta Dickie”
They did. At Lord’s.
Creating his own reality
“I’m not here to justify my selections,” Shukri said defiantly. “We beat the defending champions. We didn’t inherit success — we created our own reality.”
He coached like a street fighter — playing the cards dealt, folding none. And when people scoffed at South Africa’s ‘easy route’ to the final, he didn’t blink.
“We play what’s in front of us,” he said. “It’s not about the hand. It’s how you play it. And we played it bloody well.”
Final thoughts from Devon Road
As he stood in the shadow of the Long Room, he remembered where it all started.
“This isn’t just our win, it’s for all the people of South Africa that supported us despite all the odds. From 65 and 67 Devon Road. We made it.”
Yes, we did.
The boy who learnt to flight leg-spinners on broken tar now holds the world’s most coveted Test crown. He coached not for accolades but for answers — to generations denied, to communities overlooked.
From the Cape Flats to cricket’s Everest, Shukri Conrad is now etched in the annals of sporting greatness.
But to me, he’s still the kid who bowled yorkers with a taped-up ball and believed that dreams weren’t just meant to be imagined — they were meant to be played out.
On a field. In whites. Under sun.
At Lord’s.
World Champion Coach. Son of Sedick. Brother of the Flats. Forever Number 65.
