True greatness has the ability to inspire beyond its discipline. That is one of the reasons I have always loved watching sports. I grew up in a family where everything centered around cycling. When I cycled myself, between the ages of fourteen and nineteen, the most important lessons I learnt was how to push my physical and mental boundaries, and how to lose. During the five seasons I raced, I participated in two events almost every weekend (in those times not enough girls cycled, so the handful of us usually ended up in the boys’ categories – our races were anything between 30 to 100 km). I trained regularly, in all conditions. No weather was hot, cold or wet enough for me not to go out on my bike, whether alone or with the team. But I was not particularly good at cycling. I was nearly always among the last ten to finish a race, yet I finished every single one of those I entered in the five years. I remember that achievement as my greatest victory. I stopped cycling when I went to university. No regrets, just amazing memories – of perseverance and endurance. And being part of a team.

I continued watching sports, live and on TV. When I came to live in South Africa, I was immediately introduced to rugby. Initially, it did not feel like a sport I wanted to understand, but then I saw its poetry and fell in love. I can’t say I am a superfan, but give me biltong, a brandy with coke, and put me in front of a TV on a Saturday afternoon for a good game of rugby, and I will be a happy woman, win or lose.

Over the years, I have watched some incredible games, and witnessed rugby history unfolding. I also read the books, and always came away inspired.

When one of Nancy Richards’s sons, Tom Dawson-Squibb, contacted me to talk about a rugby book project he was considering, I was immediately intrigued. We met online earlier this year, had a chat about what he wanted to do and where he and his co-author – Nic Rosslee – were at, I read the first few chapters, and told him that they were on the right track – they had a great story and they knew how to tell it well. It was no surprise that a few months later, they contacted me to say: the book was at the printers and they would send a copy soon to say thank you for the conversations we had about the early stages of the project. I immediately pre-ordered a copy of the book for my love, too.

At the heart of Humanball lies the story of a team that is more than just the sum of its parts. It’s a story about getting the very best out of those around you. It’s a story about defying expectations—both those imposed by others and the ones we set for ourselves.

Performance coach Tom Dawson-Squibb tells the entertaining and inspiring story of his five years as the head coach of the University of Cape Town’s Ikey Tigers rugby team. Tom reveals how the most potent teams connect and inspire individuals to give effort far beyond what’s expected–and even what we believe to be possible at the time. He shows us how to find joy, meaning, and connection in our work and how to see much of what we call “work” as a serious form of play. 

The books arrived on Friday – Humanball: A leadership journey in South African rugby. I finished reading my copy this morning. I could not put it down. It is a story to inspire beyond its own discipline. While reading, I was constantly reminded what made our team – the one called Karavan Press – special, and what I could still learn from Tom and his amazing experience with the Ikey Tigers rugby team. I feel empowered to continue building and strengthening the Karavan Press team, and inspired to continue dreaming our dreams. Like John Dobson, who wrote the foreword to the book, “I found myself reading and rereading segments and taking notes for instant application at the Stormers”. I will leave the Stormers in John Dobson’s capable hands, though, and apply what I have learnt to being a publisher.

Memorable quotes from Humanball: A leadership journey in South African rugby:

The currency of sport is trophies, and in that currency as a head coach, I am poor. But the real currency of life is found in your connections, and in that currency, I feel rich for my experience at UCT.

… I always say that the key is to surround yourself with people who are better than you. In many ways, your success is defined by the company you keep.

It’s about choosing not to play small.

… energy could be transferred through your words and your actions.

… I had an insatiable thirst for meaning and significance. I wanted to find purpose in what I did and feel a sense of significance and accomplishment.

If you make it [experience] bigger that it ordinarily would be, the players will feel special. If you make players feel special, they will behave in a way that is special. They will bring energy and performance.

… but I definitely gave a shit. I’ll never forget the importance of that.

The role of a performance coach is to help the players prepare mentally for their roles, advise and assist the coaching staff and facilitate leadership growth within the team’s structures.

To join a community where you don’t have to prove yourself as you walk through the door is a liberating thing.

… success isn’t just about personal achievements but about lifting others up along the way and making them feel great.

Every time the team stepped onto the field, the goal wasn’t just to win – it was to bring joy to the city. It reminded us that rugby was bigger than just the team; it was about the fans, the community, and the happiness we could spread.

The essence of sport is that you need to do the boring things well and often.

… we are more capable than we realise. You just need to keep being relentless in your pursuits.

And who doesn’t love a good story?

… consistently finding ways to inject joy into our environment was essential.

… it’s incredible how the losses along the way are crucial in your ability to grow as a team.

The primary focus should be on what we need from each other on and off the field to contribute to the collective effort.

I realised that collaboration isn’t just nice to have; it’s essential for navigating the inherent chaos of rugby.

If you’re feeling nervous or uncertain, judging yourself harshly only amplifies those feelings. But if you’re curious about why you feel that way, you open the door to understanding and growth.

… the best are always curious, always seeking to know more.

The same principles apply if you’re facing a personal challenge or struggling on the field. Acknowledge the issue, accept the reality, and then act decisively.

One person speaking from the heart can change the temperature of any room.

Confrontations can be awkward and unpleasant, but they are necessary. Importantly, there needs to be a strong relationship in place and the environment primed for them to have an effect. And they certainly need to come at the right time.

I’ve come to realise that the ability to get people to tell the truth to each other is crucial. When someone speaks from the heart, it can create massive shifts. But there needs to be a relationship at the foundation. Without the relationship, there ia a risk of the intended audience going into defence mode. If there’s trust and you value that person’s viewpoint, honest conversations make a real difference.

If your ‘honest feedback’ comes across as an assault on the individual’s character, you’re unlikely to get the desired effect and may find yourself short of friends. To inspire growth, you must reinforce the idea that improvement is always possible.

Being part of an environment where people contributed far more effort than was ever expected of them is something that I will forever be grateful for.

Part of what motivated me to write this book was that you can do deeply purposeful work away from the places that reward you with money or status.

Maybe the ‘how’ of making an impact isn’t so complicated. It’s about showing up with genuine passion and commitment, and as I’ve said before, giving a shit.

You can order your copy of Humanball here: humanball.co.za