Online Reporter
IN the last week, debate around the Zimbabwe Football Association’s intention to register and regulate football academies in the country has grown loud and even emotional in some instances.
Some academy owners cried out in fear of the levies suffocating them while some parents expressed worry that rising costs would be passed onto them. Administrators speak of order, compliance and international standards.
Somewhere in the noise, however, we risk missing the most important point.
Football is a game of rules. And without rules that are clearly defined, fairly implemented and consistently enforced, then the game ceases to protect those who love it most.
Zimbabwean football does not need regulation for regulation’s sake, it needs regulation because its absence has already exposed our children to exploitation, embarrassment and, in some cases, potential criminality.
We have previously reported in this publication the case involving former Warriors midfielder Archieford Gutu and a disastrous trip to Dubai, organised under his academy’s banner.
Parents and guardians reportedly paid significant sums for what was presented as a life-changing opportunity, with the promise of exposure, trials and a gateway to professional contracts.
Instead, young players found themselves stranded for weeks, without proper structures in place, with serious questions raised about welfare, logistics and oversight.
The Government’s intervention was ultimately required to bring them back home.
Whether one views that episode as mismanagement, miscalculation or something more troubling, one truth stands out — there were insufficient guardrails. There was no transparent vetting framework. There was zero robust monitoring. There was no clear regulatory architecture strong enough to prevent young Zimbabweans from boarding planes on promises that evaporated upon arrival.
Then there was the spectacle of so-called “Juventus trials” in Zimbabwe. Programmes were using the powerful global brand of Juventus to attract aspiring players and hopeful parents. Fees were paid. Expectations were inflated. Questions later emerged about the authenticity of any official link to the Turin giants, with the Italians disputing any connections to the trials.
This is effectively the weaponisation of aspiration. When a global name like Juventus is invoked, it carries weight in legitimacy, prestige and trust. If such associations are not formally sanctioned or verified, they drift dangerously close to deception.
These are not isolated incidents. Across Africa and indeed the globe, unregulated football academies and rogue intermediaries have exploited dreams. Young boys, and increasingly, girls are promised European contracts, professional trials and scholarships. Families sell livestock, property or exhaust savings to make this dream true. Too often, the promised pathways lead nowhere. In the worst cases elsewhere on the continent, young players have been abandoned in foreign countries, their documentation confiscated, their welfare ignored.
In a world reeling from the effects of exposure of child trafficking, any institution that has such access to children cannot be allowed to run unregulated.
Zimbabwe must not wait for a tragedy before recognising the warning signs.
It is against this backdrop that ZIFA’s move to bring academies under formal registration and regulation must be assessed and encouraged.
The instinct to resist is understandable. Many academies operate on shoestring budgets. They are run by former players, teachers, community volunteers. These are people driven more by passion than profit. They provide structure in high-density suburbs, hope in rural districts and an alternative to idleness for thousands of children.
But passion alone cannot substitute for policy. And this passion should never be used as an excuse for non-compliance.
A standardised registration framework, which is properly designed, can protect legitimate academies just as much as it protects players.
It can create a verified database of coaches, ensure minimum child-safeguarding standards, require basic financial transparency and confirm the authenticity of international affiliations. It can distinguish the serious from the suspect.
Football governance is not merely about who wins elections at Tendeseka Park (ZIFA headquarters). It is about systems that shield the vulnerable. A 14-year-old midfielder from Mbare, Chiweshe or Mutare does not have the capacity to assess contractual fine print. His parents may not have the legal literacy to interrogate international “trial” agreements. Regulation exists precisely because children and families are not expected to navigate complex risk landscapes alone.
At the same time, those calling for oversight must listen carefully to those being asked to comply.
If registration fees are prohibitively high, they risk driving smaller academies underground. If consultation is inadequate, mistrust deepens. If implementation is rushed, compliance can lead to chaos. Regulation without representation can breed resentment, and resentment undermines enforcement.
This is where the debate must mature.
Zimbabwean football has suffered enough from fragmentation. We have seen disputes between leagues and associations, clubs and administrators, players and agents. Youth football, left largely to self-organisation, has flourished in numbers but not in uniform standards.
Some academies provide excellent technical training and holistic mentorship. Others are little more than informal weekend gatherings with big promises and no structure.
Without standardisation, there is no reliable pathway from Under-13 to Under-17 and ultimately, to the Warriors and Mighty Warriors. Without central registration, player records are inconsistent.
Without recognised accreditation, foreign clubs and scouts struggle to trust documentation. And without enforcement, unscrupulous operators find fertile ground.
Those who argue that regulation stifles development should remember that the Laws of the Game themselves are a form of regulation. We do not abolish offside because it frustrates strikers. We do not eliminate referees because they sometimes err. Rules create fairness. They create predictability. They create trust.
The same principle must apply off the pitch.
If Zimbabwe is serious about rebuilding its footballing credibility regionally and internationally, it must demonstrate that its grassroots structures are governed transparently and professionally. That includes compliance with global standards on player transfers, minors’ protection and agent conduct.
It includes safeguarding policies aligned with FIFA’s broader child protection frameworks. It includes accountability.
However, accountability must be reciprocal.
ZIFA must communicate clearly what registration entails, how fees are structured and how funds will be used to support, not burden, academies.
It must engage academy owners as partners, not subjects. It must publish criteria, timelines and grievance mechanisms. And crucially, it must enforce rules consistently without fear or favour. Selective enforcement would be worse than none at all.
If the Dubai episode and the dubious Juventus trials teach us anything, it is that the cost of regulatory failure is not measured only in dollars. It is measured in broken trust, emotional trauma and tarnished national reputation.
It is measured in young players returning home disillusioned, their dreams dented by experiences they were ill-equipped to question. In extreme cases it can end in caskets and lost children.
Zimbabwean football stands at a crossroads. It can cling to a laid-back model where anyone with a whistle, some bibs and a WhatsApp group can call themselves an academy director.
Or it can embrace a structured system where opportunity is channelled through verified, accountable institutions.
The choice should not be about one against the other. It should be one leading to the next.
Regulation, done properly is the foundation of development and it must be consultative, proportionate and transparent.
Let the academies have a seat at the table. Let the fees be realistic. Let compliance mechanisms be clear. And let enforcement be unwavering.
Football is, after all, a game of rules. When those rules are respected, talent flourishes within safe boundaries. When they are ignored, the game becomes vulnerable to those who see in it not beauty, but opportunity for exploitation.
If we truly believe our children deserve better, then standardisation is not an option, it is the very core of development.
