Accident waiting to happen

Published Sep 14, 2014

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Oscar: An Accident Waiting to Happen is the inside story of ex-girlfriend Samantha Taylor’s tumultuous romantic relationship with the athlete that turned into every mother’s nightmare. Told through the eyes of Sam’s mother, Patricia Taylor, it tells of the time that Pistorius became part of the Taylor family’s close circle.

 By Melinda Ferguson and Patricia Taylor 

By the time the Olympics began on July 27, it felt like Oscar was on the phone to me and my family 24/7. He wept constantly, saying how he didn’t want to be there.

In fact even before he got to London, while he was still training in Gemona, Italy, he was distraught about the upcoming Games.

There was so much pressure on him to perform, I don’t think even we, who were aware of a lot, knew how much it was.

On the day he had to fly to London he phoned me from his hotel, sobbing, saying he didn’t want to go. I begged him to call his manager, Peet, or coach, Ampie, or his siblings, Carl and Aimee, but he wouldn’t speak to any of them.

Eventually it turned out that I stayed on the phone with him as he left the hotel, speaking to him as he wept.

Finally he got into a taxi and checked in at the airport, crying all the way.

It broke my heart to hear him so sad and desperate and alone.

I tried to coax him on and encourage him. All the while, I prayed that he would just get on the damn plane. The stress was unbelievable.

Then we all waited in the lounge in Somerset West, eyes glued to the television, with bated breath, watching Sky… CNN… switching channels, desperate to see if he had actually flown in and arrived.

Of course there were many reasons why Oscar was feeling so distraught – having to compete with all the able-bodied athletes after all the effort he had made to be accepted by the World Athletics body, the weight of huge sponsorship deals, his deep insecurity about whether he had what it took to compete against some of the fastest athletes in the world, like Usain Bolt, and simple homesickness.

But I think what was underpinning everything at this stage was the heartbreak he was feeling over the breakup with Sam. Sometimes stubborn to a fault, she seemed adamant about her decision to move on. So I became the unwilling mediator.

A flood of desperate and emotional e-mails, SMSes and phone calls from Oscar were now a daily occurrence.

Things got really intense when Sam tried to tell him that she had met Quinton and that she was planning to go to Dubai with him.

Oscar began phoning and BBMing me and the rest of our family even more obsessively.

By then he had realised that it was over with Sam and there was another man in the picture.

One thing he kept repeating was that Sam was leaving him for Quinton because he, Oscar, was not rich enough.

“It’s because I’m too poor,” he kept on saying. How ridiculous was that, coming from someone who was rumoured to be earning R2 million ($200 000) a month at the height of his career!

At this stage he couldn’t see that it was because of his betrayals and inconsistent and thoughtless behaviour that Sam had decided to call it quits.

Of all of us, I don’t think anyone was more affected by Oscar’s torment than Sam. She cared for him deeply and knowing he was struggling tore her apart, but she also felt really angry and manipulated by him. And as always when Sammy felt under pressure, she simply withdrew. This only seemed to make Oscar more intent on trying harder to win back Sammy’s affections.

As days went by, the endless phone calls, SMSes and weeping got more intense.

Sam, who was trying to put up boundaries and move on, did not always answer his calls. When he couldn’t get hold of her, there’d be endless ones to me and to our other kids, Kerri-Lee, Ty and Greg. He just wouldn’t or couldn’t stop calling, BBMing, SMSing and e-mailing.

Now, in a complete turnaround, after being obdurate about not allowing Sam to join him at the Games in March and April, he begged her to join him in London, offering tickets, anything to have her back at his side.

In Oscar’s camp, it must have become obvious that things were going haywire and their star was suffering from a serious meltdown.

When Oscar’s pleas to Sam did not work, people like his brother, Carl, and his manager, Peet, began to contact Sam, asking her to join Oscar.

But Sam had decided that she was not going under any circumstances. Between crying and phoning, sometimes hourly, and having Oscar himself and people in his camp phone us daily, it seemed as if Oscar was completely consuming every waking (and sleeping) hour of our lives.

Knowing that the world’s eyes were on him, we felt almost compelled to be at his beck and call. It was as if South Africa’s national pride and joy had become our responsibility, as if we held Oscar’s entire mental well-being in our hands.

The insanity of our situation hit me one night while I was cooking supper, after a particularly harrowing session with Oscar, and I thought: if only the world knew what was really going on behind the applause and glorious victory laps.

South Africa’s richest and most famous athlete was calling us almost constantly on both his phones, weeping and sobbing, driving all of us crazy.

As my eyes focused on the television in the background, it felt like I had become part of some lunatic soap opera: on one channel was Quinton on Clifton Shores and on the other was Oscar Pistorius, competing in the Olympics… It was nothing short of bizarre.

When Ke’s boyfriend at the time asked me to listen to him on a radio interview the next day, I jokingly said to him: “That’s it! I never have to leave home again because I can watch our whole lives being played out in the media without having to leave the room!”

As July ended and August began, Oscar’s heart-wrenching calls and mood swings were not letting up and were taking a toll on our whole family, especially on Sam. Even though she didn’t always show it, I knew she felt in some way responsible for his pain.

I felt exhausted and consumed by it all. My life seemed to be going from one Oscar problem to the next… I worried about him constantly. Was he going to be functional enough to make it through the Olympics?

Would he buckle under the pressure? Walk out on the Games as he kept on threatening to do? Do something to Sammy when he came home? Carry out some crazy threat against Quinton? Harm himself? My primary concern was for our family’s safety, especially Sammy’s.

One minute Oscar would be sobbing, saying he didn’t want to be in London, then he would end the call and I would be left feeling responsible for his safety, racking my brain on how I could help him.

A day later I would send him an encouraging SMS, a little line of inspiration, a good-luck wish for his race, and I would get a very rude response saying: “Please don’t ever contact me again. You disturb my mental preparations.”

Then, hurt by his brutal reply, I would withdraw.

The next thing he would be calling me, sobbing and crying. It was like I was on a constant see-saw with him; at times it felt like I was going mad.

As much as I tried to be loving, supportive and kind, in the back of my mind lurked the memory of the Russian model, the final straw in Sam’s breakup with Oscar. I was still really angry about it.

Suddenly everything else that had happened in the past year flooded back, all at once, and I saw how much mayhem, chaos and damage one person was capable of causing. In a flash, all that buried anger and suppressed emotion came flooding out.

On July 18 I sent Oscar a message referring to their breakup and all the times he had hurt Sammy, stood her up, ignored her and treated her badly… the hurt and chaos he had brought on our family; the lies and betrayal.

I just let him have it, although all the way through I still tried to remain loving and supportive of him, knowing the insane pressure he was under.

 

*This is an extract from Oscar, An Accident Waiting to Happen, by Melinda Ferguson and Patricia Taylor, published by MF Books at a recommended retail price of R195.

 

**An Accident Waiting to Happen will be launched at Exclusive Books, Rosebank Mall, on Thursday at 6pm. If you would like to attend, e-mail [email protected].

Sunday Independent

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