In the industrial maul which is the Vaal Triangle south of Johannesburg one has to speak clearly and quickly. People in those smoky, bustling towns don’t stand around listening to speeches.

So when, on a smoggy Saturday afternoon, Piet Greyling dropped beside the first scrum of a Pirates Grand Challenge Rugby match, there were no speeches. Greyling was taken off the field without even a good-bye from his team mates.

As the two packs, still fresh and youthfully vigorous, went down for the next scrum, there occurred a minor speech, which coincided with a meeting between a prop forward’s face and a fist as big as a watermelon.

The verbal part of the episode consisted of: “Why did you hit my captain?”

This story comes to you by courtesy of almost every member of the Diggers Club, who pride themselves on the leadership qualities and loyalty of a player called Kevin de Klerk.

The consequences of that blow are also part of the folklore surrounding this huge young man, who somehow obtained a “gentle giant” tag.

Sure, he does not give the impression of being particularly vicious. He never snarls or shouts. He talks in the gentlemanly manner of a reserved, scholarly Northern Suburbs type, showing little of that bubbly brashness which so often characterises the Southerners of Johannesburg.

But if a Sultan of the South were to be elected, it would be no one but Kevin de Klerk, born in that part of town and still as much part of it as the Springfield grounds, where he has played most of his rugby.

Maybe at heart he is rather gentle for a Southerner of his size, but he has a way of making himself completely understood in all sorts of company, whether it means a soft but well-prepared speech or one of those abrupt statements cum questions.

Kevin, undisputed as the Big Digger of Springfield, at the age of 25 found himself leading Transvaal onto Ellis Park, where men of the stature of Hennie Muller, Avril Malan, Dawie de Villiers and Piet Greyling used to captain the red-and-whites.

Many people still wonder whether the Transvaal selectors should have made such a quiet young man captain of a side containing some boisterous extroverts and some older, seemingly wiser and sterner men. But one only has to ask one or two Transvaal players. They are behind “Kevy”, right from Number 15 to Number 1.

Just as Kevin was prepared to risk a punch for his captain, so his men are prepared to do anything for him. When Transvaal win, they rejoice for Kevin’s sake. When they lose they sulk the way few teams ever sulk - because they feel that Kevin has been let down.

Kevin came into big-time rugby at a very early age. He was only sixteen when he played for Transvaal Schools for the first time. Being so young and being from an English language school (The Hill High) must have been a disadvantage in a union where forwards even at schools level are tough and predominantly Afrikaans-speaking.

Not that Kevin is what can be termed predominantly English-speaking. As could be expected from someone named De Klerk he is as at home in Afrikaans company as he is in his home language, which happens to be his mother tongue. His father, so youthful-looking that he is often mistaken for Kevin’s elder brother, is Afrikaans.

Anyone looking for information about Kevin de Klerk should ask almost anyone but the subject himself, because Kevin has a well-developed knack of leading the conversation astray until the discussion centres around someone else.

Ask him, for instance, about his training methods. Within thirty seconds he starts expounding the fitness and dedication of his brother Viccie, who, he maintains, is the driving force when it comes to road work and power building exercises. Viccie, smaller built than his Springbok brother, has a reputation for being one of the most underrated and most formidable loose forwards in the Transvaal. He is a regular member of the Transvaal Sub-union Fifteen and may conceivably join his brother’s Currie Cup team shortly.

During the summer and especially towards the rugby season, Viccie leads him on long, stamina-building runs in the veld and koppies of the Southern Suburbs, Kevin explains. Were it not for Viccie’s enthusiasm he would never be as fit as he is. Says Kevin.

But he never tries to explain how much Viccie had to do with him playing for Transvaal schools three years running, playing for the schools and the Transvaal Under Twenties in the same year and walking into Currie Cup rugby almost straight out of the Under Twenty team.

When one sees him driving himself to exhaustion during team practices it is hard to believe that it takes someone else to get him away from the light reading matter which he so likes. Never does he give less than his very best. He is the original working horse, always prepared to push harder in the scrums than anyone else, jump higher and more often in the lineouts and run faster and further than the men he leads.

Jumping higher than anyone else has its drawbacks, though. Many spectators, many opponents and, of course, many referees simply do not believe that a man of his size can jump so high in the lineouts. So when he really presses the blast-off button he often gets a reprimanding gesture from the man with the whistle and the other team gets the penalty for “lifting”.

Yet anyone who has seen him jumping at the Springfield height measuring bar will testify that those massive legs under that massive frame can propel him to unbelievable heights.

Earlier this year, when Transvaal played Western Transvaal at Ellis Park, Kevin burst into the open, the ball in his huge right hand. It took the crowd several seconds to realise how fast he covered the distance between the ruck and Western’s last line of defence. Speed is another De Klerk asset which has to be seen rather than described.

When one learns that he was no mean athlete at school - and not only in the throwing events - it is easier to understand how such a powerful man can be so mobile. Still, the suspicion remains that this youngster - at 25 all lock forwards are youngsters - has not reached his true capabilities because he so rarely lets go of his full potential. Even dr. Danie Craven has told him, before an international against France, to “just switch on that devil every now and then”.

Maybe in the back of his mind he hesitates to do just that, remembering Pietermaritzburg and 1967. Playing for Transvaal schools in the Craven week he hared after the ball. A despairing opponent grabbed him by the jersey, holding him back. In the heat of the moment Kevin swung his arm back, knocking the spoiler off his feet.

Some of the teachers were furious and demanded his suspension, even though the referee did not find it necessary to send him off the field. The story goes that it was dr. Craven himself who stepped in and squashed all suspension plans. By doing so the boy’s spirit could be broken, dr. Craven reportedly pleaded. And one can almost hear the Doc adding: “and by Gad, we need tough forwards in this country”.

But maybe Kevin has never quite forgotten the outcry. Maybe it did have a harmful effect on his rugby career, forcing him to grow up a docile, honest player rather than a merciless hunk of fury. That is why so many Diggers members often talk about that day when he knocked out the man who had assaulted Piet Greyling. Rubbed up the wrong way Kevin de Klerk becomes a fearful menace - but he needs someone to stir him into that sort of action. Knowing what destruction he is capable of probably restrains him from “switching on that devil” too often.

Another factor which may have had a harmful effect on his career is the fact that lock forwards of his stature are found only in the Northern Transvaal. If he were pitted against John Williams, Moaner van Heerden, Louis Moolman and others in the red-hot Carlton Cup Competition he might have been a much better player. In his own union he has hardly any opposition worth mentioning.

But holding young Brad or Ryan in one arm and dwarfing his pretty wife Winnie on his other side he does look no more than a gentle, docile family man. But so did Colin Meads at the height of his awesome career and so do most other great lock forwards off the field.

As a captain Kevin has been learning fast. He is a serious student of the game, but knowing his shortcomings after less than a season as a first class skipper he relied a lot on players like Paul Bayvel, Gerald Bosch and Braam van Heerden. He never ceased learning from coaches such as Pa Pelser, Jim Foley and Johan Claassen.

In his relaxed way he has been building a team as loyal as any around him. As did Greyling he leads by example. His rugby has never been stagnant and it seems a sure bet that the national selectors are going to rely on him for several years to come.

Maybe he is too gentle and maybe he is being held back by the fear of his own power and the lack of competition at club level. But lock forwards do not come much better than Kevin de Klerk and rugby players surely do not come more respected and well-liked than the Sultan of the South.