At the launch of 'Invictus' at Emperors Palace on Tuesday night, Joost van der Westhuizen told a radio journalist that every South African should go and watch the movie. He believed it had come out at the "perfect time".
For Van der Westhuizen the "perfect time" was a reference to the movie bringing a reminder of those glory days of 1995 as we head into what South Africans feel will be an even more glorious 2010 with the World Cup.
One could also argue that Van der Westhuizen would hope the movie would help South Africans remember him more for being a member of the team at the centre of 'Invictus' rather than a man who stared in a home-movie version of "Inglorious Basterds".
At least we know where Van der Westhuizen was on June 24, 1995. Where were you when Nelson Mandela handed the Webb Ellis Cup to Francois Pienaar on that winter afternoon over 14 years ago?
I was at the Pirates Club in Greenside with a bunch of mates, partying up a storm. The marquees the club had erected to watch the games were full so we were taken to another bar by a kind club official, which was empty save for five television sets, a stocked bar and a barman.
Heaven.
The place filled up in minutes as word got around and soon the party kicked off in spectacular fashion. I remember drinking a Springbok shooter every time South Africa scored points, Ed Morrison not giving Ruben Kruger's try, Van der Westhuizen going down on one knee to stop Jonah Lomu and Japie Mulder's outstanding covering tackle, also on Lomu, after the big man had slipped past James Small.
I remember Pienaar roughing up Lomu after a tackle, Sean Fitzpatrick trying to milk a penalty from Morrison, claiming Van der Westhuizen had elbowed him when the two were wrestling off the ball on the ground.
I remember Small, his hair cut so short on the sides of his head you could see his scalp, pulling up with cramp in extra time, his legs spasming, stiff and screaming at him as he pushed himself off the field backwards while sitting on his backside, his face a mask of pain.
I remember those final minutes, that steady scrum, Joel Stransky in the pocket, screaming, cancelling the call, shouting "he's going to drop!" and then watching as it went up and up and up and over.
I remember that final scrum, the re-set, the hit, the feed, the rumble for control, Morrison checking his whistle and then blowing.
I remember shouting and crying, and thinking this must surely be the greatest day in sport ever. What would it mean for this uncertain and brave young nation, I wondered. Then I went and drank a lot of beer.
I remember buying The Sunday Independent the very next day. It was the first edition of the paper and it ran that iconic picture of Madiba and Pienaar on the front page, stretching the entire width of the page.
I think I still have that copy somewhere.
Five years after the final I was sports editor of The Sunday Independent and asked Bruce Fordyce to write a column for me, telling me what he did on the final. He splashed out R800 for a ticket to the final, a small fortune in those days, and has never regretted the expense.
Jenny Cryws-Williams of Talk Radio 702 was on the field, having accompanied Dan Moyane, who then co-hosted the breakfast show with John Robbie. Moyane sang "Shosholoza" that day.
My mate, Rory Steyn, was beside the All Black bench, as part of the VIP protection for the team. He remembers it being one of the hardest days of his life, not being able to cheer on the Springboks.
So, where were you on June 24? What are your memories of that day? Was it the greatest day in sports ever? Answers below, if you please.