Sundaymail Editor
Veronica Gwaze
Zimpapers Sports Hub
IN a town forged on iron and sweat, Kwekwe United’s dream of Premier Soccer League glory is crumbling before it even takes form.
Six games into their historic debut season in the top-flight, the Goldminers, as they are affectionately known, already find themselves in crisis. It is not the kind of crisis caused by poor form alone, but a systemic one: no money, no structure and no guarantees.
As the players train inconsistently, sometimes showing up and sometimes not, the club teeters on the edge of the same abyss that swallowed teams like Cranborne Bullets, Hwange and Bulawayo Chiefs — clubs undone not by the quality of their football, but by the silent, unrelenting erosion of financial instability.
“We are doing everything possible,” says club owner Phil Makekera, “but it’s tough.”
He does not need to say more.
The struggle is visible on the pitch, in the stands and on the balance sheet. It is no longer just a bad patch; it is a sinking ship.
When Kwekwe United secured promotion into the elite league, they did so with the vigour of a club on a mission.
The community buzzed. Bata Stadium brimmed with renewed hope. There was talk of building a new legacy, a return to relevance for a city long absent from the top-tier football map.
But that honeymoon was painfully short-lived.
After six rounds, they sit anchored at the bottom of the PSL log, 16th out of 16, with a meagre five points from 18, their only victory a fleeting flash of promise.
They have conceded 13 goals, the most in the league, and twice watched opponents complete hat-tricks against them, in a 4-0 hammering by Highlanders and a 5-0 humiliation at the hands of ZPC Kariba.
At the other end of the pitch, it is no better. Only two goals scored, both by Masimba Mambare, a former Bikita Minerals player now carrying the burden of an entire frontline on his shoulders.
Behind the statistics lies a dressing room battling more than tactics.
Players have reportedly gone unpaid for weeks. Training sessions are boycotted. Rumours of strike action swirl.
And whispers about player exits in the upcoming mid-season transfer window are growing louder by the day.
Makekera, who single-handedly financed Kwekwe United’s rise from obscurity, has become both hero and hostage to the club’s fortunes.
Without sponsors, every operational cost, from stadium rentals to police security, is met from his pocket. That pocket is now emptying at an alarming rate.
“We signed 30 players and we’re still owing some of their signing-on fees,” he admits. “But we are not alone; many clubs have the same challenge. Signing-on fees are often cleared across the season.”
Still, in a move that hints at desperation, Makekera has now offered up a stake in the club to potential investors.
The call is open: partners, sponsors and even donors; anyone willing to keep the club afloat.
“We want to turn Kwekwe United into a football business,” he explains, “not just a self-funded passion project.”
But time, it seems, is not on his side.
At the helm is Saul Chaminuka, a seasoned tactician now tasked with coaxing results from a squad emotionally and physically frayed.
He has been here before, most recently with Black Rhinos, where, in 2023, he was brought in to rescue a sinking team late in the season.
It did not work. The club went down.
“There is a huge need for financial support so that our boys can really give out what they have,” Chaminuka pleads. “Training is no longer consistent. Sometimes the boys are here, sometimes they’re not. From a coach’s standpoint, that ruins any chance of building momentum.”
It is little surprise that Chaminuka is reportedly eyeing the vacant Triangle United job, left open after the sacking of Luke Masomere.
For a man with options, staying with a club that can barely afford to function is a gamble. But for now, he remains, still hoping for a turnaround.
Despite the gloom, glimmers of hope have emerged, most notably in their gritty goalless draw against former champions FC Platinum at Bata Stadium recently.
That performance was a reminder of what the side can be when the stars align.
But moments like those are increasingly rare for the club. Even tomorrow’s fixture against Herentals, themselves licking wounds from a 1-0 defeat to red-hot league leaders MWOS, feels less like a contest and more like survival theatre.
It is not just about three points anymore. It is about proving to fans, funders and the football gods that Kwekwe United deserve to stay alive.
Zimbabwean football has seen such a story before. Clubs that rise too fast without the administrative and financial scaffolding to sustain themselves often end up as footnotes.
They include Hwange, with its proud mining heritage; Bulawayo Chiefs, social media darlings who turned relegation casualties; and Cranborne Bullets, a team that simply ran out of cash.
Now, as whispers grow louder in Kwekwe, the question that arises is: Will Kwekwe United be next?
What began as a story of ambition now reads like a cautionary tale. A club built on passion is struggling to stay afloat in a league that demands more than heart.
For now, Kwekwe United fight on, from week to week, dollar to dollar and dream to dream.
But if salvation does not arrive soon, the Goldminers may find themselves back where they started: outside the topflight, peering through the glass, wondering what could have been.
Online Reporter