Online Reporter
Wieslaw Grabowski called me Sharauko, somehow his Polish accent could not allow him to call my name without adding an ‘a’ between the ‘r’ and the ‘u’. The guys who were in the media trenches in the ‘90s will testify to you that no Grabowski press conference ended without him mentioning my name. Or, if you want, his bastardised version of my name.
GOODBYE GRABOWSKI, THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE FUNNY
THERE was a time, in the ‘90s, when Wieslaw Grabowski would call a press conference just to talk about just one subject.
I was that subject.
And, he would rip into me, tear me apart, blast me, crush me, hammer me, thrash me, slander me, whatever you might want to call it.
Guys would come back from the media conference to tell me how animated he was, how fierce in his criticism he was and how dramatic his presentation was.
That was the era before Whatsapp groups, Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, Instagram and all these social media platforms and tools.
I can only wonder what would have been the case if those press conferences were held today and how his videos would have trended on social media streets.
There was a comical touch to his criticism, and generally in everything that he said, he wanted to see people laugh even as if he put his serious message across.
Grabowski was someone who believed in comedy, and the power of using comic illustrations to hammer home his point, and I can safely say that in the ‘90s, I was the main recipient of his comic attacks.
You have probably already heard, or you know, of the one in which he accused some guys of being so irresponsible, and lacking basic wisdom, they appeared like some crazy people who were diving into a swimming pool without water.
All that was thrown at me, to provide what he felt was a perfect description of the person that I am, probably more times than any other human being.
He called me Sharauko, somehow his Polish accent could not allow him to call my name without adding an ‘a’ between the ‘r’ and the ‘u’.
The guys who were in the media trenches in the ‘90s will testify to you that no Grabowski press conference ended without him mentioning my name.
Or, if you want, the bastardised version of my name.
Lovemore Banda still calls me that way, and so does Robson Mhandu and so do many of my close colleagues in the media and, to be frank, they don’t do it with any bad intentions.
To them, it’s just a throwback to a bygone era, when Grabowski was a big part of our football and when I was the biggest victim of his attacks, packaged with a heavy dosage of comedy.
As fate would have it, on the day that news broke out that the good coach had died in Poland, on Wednesday, I was on a flight from Harare to Johannesburg.
It brought back memories of a similar flight, which a media colleague of mine took, in the first decade after the turn of the millennium, but this time flying the other way from Johannesburg to Harare.
Grabowski was also on that flight and they sat beside each other.
My colleague tells me that along the way, after touching on a number of subjects, he told Grabowski he was a journalist.
“Which newspaper?” the coach replied.
And, when he said he worked at The Herald, all hell suddenly broke loose.
“Kurwa, no, no, very bad newspaper,” the coach is said to have thundered.
“Sharauko, Marisa not good Kurwa, very bad journalists, horrible people.”
THE STORY OF ELASTO AND I – THE BOYS FROM THE SAME VILLAGE
At that juncture, my colleague said he told him that Marisa was now late.
And, the response, he said, shocked him.
“Oh, that’s good,” the coach is said to have replied. “Now, only Sharauko left, very bad journalist, he goes then Herald become good newspaper.”
Wow!
Big Sam died at the turn of the millennium.
He was a gentle giant, one of the pioneering black sports journalists who shaped the Sports Section of this grand old newspaper and inspired a generation, including some of us.
Grabowski lived for another quarter-of-a-century, after Big Sam’s death, he was there when we played at the AFCON for the first time and he was there when the World Cup came to Africa for the first time.
It’s an open secret that the coach did not like both Big Sam and did not like me, too, and if we compare his dislike for the two of us, I’m sure that he disliked me more.
Yes, Big Sam and I were critical of the coach, but that comes with the job.
And, in my case, I think he just couldn’t understand how a young and raw journalist, fresh from a mining town, could see any faults in him and his work.
Neither could he understand how, during the All-Africa Games in 1995, I was critical of Elasto Lungu, given the midfielder’s family was now based in Chakari.
One day, as he always did, Grabowski called a media conference to deal with this issue.
He told the journalists that my criticism of Elasto’s performance was largely inspired by jealousy because, even though we were from the same “village,” the midfielder was more successful in his life than me.
“You know Kurwa, Sharauko and Elasto come from the same village,” Grabowski told the journalists.
“Now, in same village Kurwa, there is only one beautiful girl. Sharauko and Elasto like the same girl Kurwa. Now, I send Elasto to Europe Kurwa, at Christmas he go to village, give girl good presents from Europe and she is happy.
“Now, Kurwa, Sharauko also go to village for Christmas, he also bring girl present, a newspaper, and shows her his name on the back page. So girl choose Elasto and that’s why Sharauko continue criticising Elasto.”
You can only imagine the explosion of laughter in that room when the coach said all that with the conviction that what he was saying was real.
And, you can only imagine how this would have broken the internet, if it had been said today, with all the tools available to the football fans to spread such news across social media platforms.
Of course, it was not true but that was Grabowski, when it came to me.
This is the same man who told his players, after a training session one day, that I was banned from travelling to any European country.
When they asked him why, he said it was because of my “crimes against the white population.”
Wow!
WHAT AN EXCELLENT TALENT SCOUT
But, beyond the jokes, the comedy, the fact that he didn’t like me, both as a person and a journalist, was a football coach who was a genius when it came to his job.
He might not be the best coach to have worked in this country but he was certainly the best talent scout, among all the foreign coaches, who have worked here.
He had a gift, when it came to spotting football talent, at a very young age, and the amazing work that he did in Chitungwiza is the stuff of legends.
The Hall Of Fame of those who graduated from the Wieslaw Grabowski Talent Factory is just mind blowing.
Norman Mapeza, who rose to captain his country and then coach the Warriors, too, is one of his crown jewels.
He took what Grabowski taught him and used it to share the stage with the likes of Romario and Stoichkov as he became the first Zimbabwean infield footballer to play in the UEFA Champions League.
He transformed Stewart Murisa into such a fine star he made history as the first footballer from Chitungwiza to be crowned Soccer Star of the Year – exactly 30 years ago.
He gave CAPS United their most decorated footballer, Lloyd Chitembwe, with three league titles, as a player, and another title, as a coach.
Think about all the great CAPS United players – Joel Shambo, Friday Phiri, Stanley Ndunduma, Stix Mutizwa, Shacky Tauro, you name them, and none of them is as decorated, at the Green Machine, as Chitembwe.
He gave us Alois Bunjira, who could have been Soccer Star of the Year in 1996, had injury not ruled him out about halfway into the campaign that season.
Given his impact that season, another award had to be introduced, the Kingsgate Player of the Season, at least, to ensure that the unfortunate Bunjira was honoured for his brilliance.
It was never given to any other player after that.
He gave us so much more – Gift Muzadzi, Edelbert Dinha, John Phiri, Shingi Kawondera, Dickson Choto, Musareka Jenitala, Costa Nhamoinesu, Raphael Kawondea, Takesure Chinyama, Felix Antonio, Wonder Timoti, to name but a few.
These are the ones who quickly come to mind.
But, there were many more, who slipped under the radar, for one reason or another, but who could have been bigger, in terms of profile, if their careers had panned out as expected.
Just go to Zengeza today, sit down with the elders in that area for a drink and ask them about a guy called Chomondo.
His name is Richard Zvomuya.
They will tell you that this man was blessed with extraordinary football skills he should have done far better than just having a short stint at Legia Warsaw in Poland.
It’s quite likely that without Grabowski, the CAPS United success story of ’96, which was built on a foundation of attacking football, which was as beautiful as it was seductive, would not have happened.
Take away Shutto, Bunjira, Dealer, Chitembwe from that team and it’s unlikely they would have been champions that year.
In football, seventy is a special number.
In 1970, the World Cup was shown in colour on TV for the first time, Pele became the only player to win it three times, the greatest national team, that Brazilian side, were crowned champions that year.
Gordon McQueen, Ray Kennedy and Florian Albert, the Hungarian legend who won the Ballon d’Or in ’67, were all 70 when they passed away.
And, so was Grabowski, when he died this week.
Forget that Kurwa was a very bad word, just remember that he was a very good coach and an excellent talent scout.
To God Be The Glory
Peace to the GEPA Chief, the Big Fish, George Norton, Daily Service, Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse and all the Chakariboys still in the struggle.
Come on Warriors!!!!!!!!!!!!
Antoniooooooooooooo!
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Mathew Masinge