Thursday, August 16, 2012

'My Father, My Father, when shall it be well?'

My under-rated playing career ended at Highlanders Football Club as a reserve team substitute goalkeeper against Matebeleland High City captained by Nqobizitha Humptey Maenzanise. It was a match that ended 8-1 in our favour and the City scorer was Humptey himself and past yours truly at BF.

It is the over-rated stint as a Bosso Technical Advisor, my last meaningful contribution of the game on the technical side, besides lecturing the coaches at the Belvedere Teachers' College under the FIFA/Olympic Solidarity Committee banner weeks after my departure, that I want to talk about. 

Every community has its Nelson Mandela, all inferior in 'size and stature', but there is always 'the man'. I can assure you that I never came close to being that anyway, save to my family, where my wife would put head on the block and say I am her Rolihlahla and better.

The game saw the influences of relatively unknown youthful men, currently labelled career coaches, based on their lack of high profile football-playing experiences like myself. While the late Benjamin Moyo (MHSRIP) quickly moved off the blocks by being at Tshilas, Charles Mhlauri, whom I could have 'technical supervised' at Amazulu, endeared himself well in taking a gamble by migrating across provincial borders.

Such was his impact that he cut a niche in a traditionally hardcore mentality of the 'has beens' from whom we had studied football for years, by not only excelling with the Warriors of Zimbabwe, but qualifying for the African Cup of nations. 

Only two men achieved that in the entire history of Zimbabwean football. The other was obviously my former school-mate of the Brazilian Football Academy, Sunday Marimo. He is now Sunday Chidzambwa.

That era ushered gifted and cunning strategists like probably Zimbabwe Saints' youngest coach, Bongani Mafu. In the same-like manner, probably one who never played at high level or as a former Saints great, his credentials was the football knowledge. 

In all our football education and experience, it was the cursing and swearing that made the whole thing fun. Such was the language that the usually popular and pompous Soweto Stand supporters' language would be deemed legal for family TV in comparison. Vulgar was nothing.

At best, I would say there were well and good nurtured players who kept themselves out of the flock, though not immune to the XXX language rating. Comedians made things easier and few players who withdrew due to the embarrassment and ridicule of vulgarity would suddenly feel the part and come out of the closet. That was coming out of the closet, not what we have these days

The senior generation of mentors indulged successfully in that psychological mischief, until a later breed of the younger stock came forth with football revolving around studies and data (statistics and so forth). The successes of Mafu at Saints and Mhlauri at Caps United resulted from decomposition of raw facts and utilisation of resources to the maximum.

What we did was purely scientific, no magic, no juju and no cheating. It worked as simple as; 'If our team kicked the ball into the opposition's goal once, and prevented the opposition doing the same past ours, what will be the results?' The teams went on to do or at least try that to prove it. As long as the facts remained intact, the result remained a 1-0 victory. 

We could get the luxury of doubling the figures and the efforts and the results doubled. Better still, the result meant three points all the same. This made Railstars Football Club promotion look easy while I worked with Barry Daka. It was tough but looked like we were a hot knife through warm butter.

One thing a good coach does, is to look at other ball sports. As a habit, my comparison of team-work, work ethics, tactics or lack of, makes a huge chunk of my interest. Out of divine intervention, I came to like a USA basketball team that was so religious that swearing and cursing was a 'NO GO' area. The best part was that it worked just fine.

That I did not comprehend. It was a ritual for teams to group and pray even after kissing a witchdoctor, but this was profoundly out of place some how. 

Years later, as I sojourned the world and coached primary school children as well as varsity students, I kept on wondering how religion can be part of the game. As a fashion statement, many players made a Christian cross symbol synonymous with Roman Catholics when entering or exiting the field. Muslims kiss the ground. These gestures would be seen even at celebrating the goals.

One big thing to note, the lives of these players did not follow these true religious practices, and so, with under-age children, you let them live their  dreams of imitating their heroes. 

As a Christian, faulty as I am, never had I ever imagined that the power of God would influence the result of the game. If I could count things God did for me, this would surprise you and that is exactly my point. Many sports people do not pray for the defeat and destruction of others, naturally, but if divine intervention can cause par excellence and beyond, victory can only be in the foot of the kicker.

It is at this point that after The Only One saw that there is nothing special about himself, that the title of The Special One came home. 

Zambian born-and-bred former fire-brand striker of Highlanders FC of Zimbabwe, coach Kelvin Kaindu taught me and many others, that the power of God cannot be limited. What sends shivers down the spine of many,is that the season is still young and the team he is building has already dethroned the ancient studs of the game.

Kaindu is not religious.The man is God-fearing and publicly acknowledges the power of God in his life, which is Highlanders at this point in time. Refusing to accept credit and preferring the modesty referral to his maker, the Bosso coach proved that cursing and swearing can be replaced with prayer and praise.

Highlanders had been down and out for over six seasons, like my finances after I tried to run two football clubs and an academy from my salary. My misconception had been that I cannot live large. Kaindu just gave me an idea. If I want to be ON TOP, I must start by saying 'My Father, My Father...', then it shall be well.

(Check my name on the Forbes list soon.)

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