Journalist Carly Adno relives her memories of growing up in Mandela-led South Africa Nelson Mandela hands Springbok captain Francois Pienaar the 1995 World Cup trophy. I was 11-years-old when I had my first Madiba moment. It was a typical winter's day on the highveld - cold, dry, a perfectly blue sky. Only there wasn't really anything typical about June 24, 1995, because it was a day that changed generations of South Africans forever. The Springboks weren't expected to win that Rugby World Cup. They were meant to. Two days before the final against the mighty All Blacks I celebrated my 11th birthday. My aunt gave me a Springbok jersey with the number six printed on the back - the same number our captain Francois Pienaar wore. "I know it's a bit big for you now," she told me. But you'll grow into it. I pulled on the green and gold jersey immediately and boasted to my friends. I must have worn it for days. Former South African-born Wallaby, Clyde Rathbone, chats to Fox Sports News about the passing of Nelson Mandela. When Joel Stransky kicked that audacious drop-goal to seal South Africa's fate, the country erupted. I jumped up on the couch at home, where I had watched the game with my parents and little brother. We were ecstatic. But nothing could have prepared us for what happened next. Into the euphoria at Ellis Park Stadium stepped Nelson Mandela. With that glorious smile he walked onto the field, fists raised in celebration as the crowd, the Rainbow Nation, chanted his name. And he was wearing the number six Springbok jersey. I was too young to fully appreciate the greatness of the man, but I knew how important he was. And as I watched him present the gold William Web Ellis trophy to Pienaar, I understood that they - we - were suddenly united by more than just the number on their backs. My dad took us out onto the streets of Johannesburg to celebrate. There we all were - white, black, Indian, coloured, Asian - swelling with pride at the achievement of our team. Madiba and the Springboks had brought our fractured nation together barely a year after the first democratic election. Thirteen years later I walked into the building of the Nelson Mandela Children's Fund near Mandela's home in Houghton. It was Madiba's 90th birthday and members of the media had been invited, along with Bafana Bafana (the national soccer team) and the Springboks, to wish him a happy birthday. Nelson Mandela holds the Jules Rimet Trophy beside Cape Town Archbishop Desmond Tutu. We gathered in the small auditorium and patiently, quietly, awaited his arrival. For many of us, it would be the first time we'd be in such close proximity to him. He was frail when he walked in, but that wonderful smile hadn't lost its magic. "Oh, I hope you haven't been waiting for me," he grinned. His presence was immense, awesome. Here we were, Mandela's Rainbow Nation, gathered in one room singing him happy birthday. He sat there, in his colourful Madiba shirt, flanked by some of the country's best sportsmen. He smiled and sang along. I was old enough then to appreciate his greatness. His vision, borne out of forgiveness and tolerance, allowed us all to be in that room together, the question of race a distant memory. Mandela retreated from the public eye in the years that followed, but just knowing he was there was enough. He made what was to be one of his final public appearances at the closing ceremony of the 2010 Football World Cup. The euphoria of 1995 was recreated fifteen years later at Soccer City in Soweto, on a cold, winter's evening. Our ailing hero, the moral backbone of South Africa, was driven around the field on a golf cart, a reminder that he was still there, and always will be. I grew into my Springbok jersey many years ago, but I will never outgrow it. It's about more than rugby. It's a reminder that I was blessed to live in the time of Nelson Mandela. I watched him walk free; listened as he was sworn in as the first democratically elected president of South Africa and will forever be inspired by his humanity. Carly Adno is a Daily Telegraph sports journalist who hails from South Africa.