All in all it hasn't been a great week for the Springbok. Luke Watson wants to vomit on it, Naas Botha wants it shot, a National Assembly politician has accused it of being divisive, and South Africa's governing African National Congress Party is preparing to consider its abolition.

All this over a herbivorous antelope that cavorts and leaps about like a Vaudeville dancer. I mean, it's hard to understand how it became the South African national emblem in the first place, given the wealth of options available. Can you imagine how pissed off the lions must have been?

But now all the talk is about the need for change, and especially after reports that Watson, son of anti-apartheid activist Cheeky, told Cape Town students last week that he felt like emptying the contents of his stomach on the jersey. Actually, what he said was that, while he felt like vomiting on the Springbok emblem, he understood his responsibilities; the fact that so many folk had made sacrifices to provide him with the opportunities of today. For thousands of South African rugby followers, however, it was just another provocation from the most recent of the Watson progeny.

It was Cheeky, remember, who confounded his peers and put himself at great personal risk during the apartheid years, not only refusing an invitation to trial for the 1976 Springboks, but also shocking the whites-only rugby establishment by choosing to play in the black townships, and joining the ANC. He was threatened, shot at and ostracised, and his house was torched in a failed bid to frame him for insurance fraud. And if some of the reaction to his son's comments last week is any guide, many diehards still loathe what the family name stands for.

"In all honesty, the Watson family has become nothing more than a cancer within the body of South African rugby," wrote columnist Quintin van Jaarsveld on the website, SARugby.com, where hundreds of readers rushed to write their support. "In his and his [idiotic] father's pathetic minds they think they are standing up for the struggle." one wrote. "If I am not mistaken apartheid and the 'struggle' ended about 18 years ago," wrote another. "If they were fighting against it then ... why are they still clinging to it now?" "Keep politics out of rugby and keep the Watsons out of rugby. They are doing more harm than good," opined yet another. You get the picture. Now enlarge it by thousands.

Easily the most amusing response, however, came from former Waikato halfback and Sharks' coach Kevin Putt, who surely had his tongue jammed in his cheek when he said of Watson, "it's an interesting summary of what a player has done with his mouth instead of his body". Coming from one of the biggest yappers in the game; a man who could make both George Gregan and Sean Fitzpatrick sound like Trappist monks, this was indeed hilarious stuff. Presumably Watson has allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

Truth is, the republic's rugby traditionalists can bang on all they like about the heritage value of the Springbok emblem, but it's unlikely to change the fact that for millions of non-white compatriots, the logo is effectively a South African swastika. As symbolic of the apartheid regime as the former national anthem, Die Stem, and the old South African flag. It evokes the memory of folk such as former chairman Danie Craven (who once said a black man would never play for the Springboks) and Louis Luyt; of a time when top-class athletes were denied the chance to represent their country, and of a regime that merrily legislated for crimes against humanity.

Some people like to kid themselves that reunification has ended the injustice. But the sort of comments we've heard spilling from the mouths of Andre Maakgraaf, Rudolph Straaulie and Geo Cronje; never mind Chester Williams' claims of institutionalised racism, suggests a more sobering reality. Against that backdrop, it's probably not surprising that so many South Africans want to preserve the symbol, despite it offending and enraging so many of their population.

Yet, that, in a nutshell, is why it has to go. It's not that so many people are willing to accept it; it's that so many can only abhor it. It's time for the Springbok, symbol of white supremacy, to be set free.

I mean, it's not as if anyone asked it if it wanted to be the face of the apartheid movement. Poor thing was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The argument that it now represents a bright future rather than a shameful and criminal past is at best specious: You could try to make the same claim about the flag, the anthem, the numerous town and street names changed since reunification, and the republic's official coat of arms, changed in 2000.

It was only last week that the National Assembly's controversial sports committee chairman Butana Komphela put the Springbok nicely into perspective in terms of the place it holds within white South African culture. All he needed to do was raise the issue of an old video clip that depicted the late Craven questioning the logic of the 102-year-old symbol in a modern, multi-racial society. "The Springbok has always been associated with whites," said Craven. "The Leopard has always been associated with blacks". And there's the truth of the matter.

There will be those who claim that an overwhelming majority of the South African rugby public want to preserve the Springbok emblem; that most folk have learnt to look forward rather than back, and that only those trapped in the past are continuing to have any difficulty accepting it.

With respect, they rather miss the point. As long as there's a minority who despise it as symbol of white supremacy, and another minority who champion it as a symbol of white supremacy, it will continue to cause bouts of nausea. Watson was merely stating the facts. He deserves to be congratulated.