Online Reporter
Howard Musonza, Head – Zimpapers Sports Hub
PIETER DE JONGH is walking a fine line between passion and chaos. The Dutchman has turned every Highlanders match into a one-man show, wild touchline theatrics, relentless referee confrontations, and emotional outbursts that now threaten to eclipse Bosso’s football altogether.
Three weeks ago, before Highlanders’ league match against Dynamos at Barbourfields, De Jongh set the tone for the storm that followed. “We will be playing against a good and very physical side (Herentals). What we demand and hope for is fair play,” he told reporters. “People would say Pieter De Jongh is always fighting with referees, I will not stop. I have coached in 14 countries and I will always stand my ground.”
He wasn’t lying. De Jongh has been booked several times this season, restrained by his own staff as he tears into match officials. His players have begun to follow suit, mobbing referees, contesting every call, and picking up his bad habits. The line between leadership and lunacy is fading fast.
A few weeks earlier, during the Chibuku Super Cup quarter-final against Scottland at Barbourfields, the coach’s unfiltered passion spilled over spectacularly. When a late Bosso goal was ruled out, De Jongh looked ready to explode. Moments later, Andrew Mbeba’s thunderbolt equaliser sent him sprinting toward the Scottland bench, fists flying. Then came an unprintable gesture, a crude grab of his privates that summed up the spectacle. It wasn’t celebration. It was theatre. That same temperament was on full display again in last weekend’s Chibuku semi-final defeat to Dynamos at Rufaro. Bosso lost 5–3 on penalties, but De Jongh’s running commentary on the officials turned the match into a circus. He stormed into the Dynamos technical area, harassed the fourth official, and left journalists cameras with more drama than football.
“It’s always difficult to play against 12 players,” he fumed after the match. “The first goal was a big shame. There is no fair play.”
He then turned on the media.
“How is it possible that Dynamos must always play on Saturday and next week play on Sunday? Make an article about that. But you are not doing that,” he snapped.
The irony? Highlanders played Dynamos that very Sunday, and both clubs had identical fixtures the following weekend. The complaint wasn’t about fairness; it was frustration disguised as conspiracy.
The Premier Soccer League has confirmed it is reviewing the coach’s conduct, with communications manager Kudzai Bare saying, “We have taken note of the concerns raised and will review the match reports. Appropriate action will be taken if necessary.”
De Jongh’s drama mirrors the downfall of former Warriors coach Michael Nees, recently shown the door after a year of contradictions. Both men walked in believing they were here to save Zimbabwean football, and both are now being consumed by their own egos.
Nees called himself no messiah, but spoke like one. He described local football as being “down” before his arrival, framing his short tenure as a miracle turnaround. De Jongh does it differently, not through speeches, but through defiance. Every referee call, every scheduling gripe, every emotional explosion carries the same message; only I see the truth.
Neither takes blame. Nees hid behind statistics and narratives; De Jongh hides behind passion and fury. Both shift responsibility to others: referees, administrators, journalists, anyone but themselves.
Nees dismissed the achievements of past Warriors coaches, claiming he “turned the page.” De Jongh dismisses the PSL system, painting it as corrupt and biased whenever results go against him. Different temperaments, same superiority.
Their leadership styles are equally corrosive. Nees lectured the media, belittled players, and spoke as if he was grading a classroom. De Jongh leads through confrontation, barking orders and intimidating officials. Both mistake noise for authority.
And just like Nees, De Jongh’s act is wearing thin. What once looked like fire now feels like fatigue. The self-belief that once inspired has curdled into arrogance.
Football thrives on emotion, but it collapses under ego. De Jongh’s job is to coach, not to crusade. Yet each week, he seems more obsessed with proving a point than winning matches. His players are distracted, his credibility thinning, and his club’s image dragged into the mud.
De Jongh insists he’s fighting for fairness. The truth is he’s fighting himself and right now, he’s losing.
But beyond the noise and gestures, the numbers tell a more sobering story. With only three rounds left, Highlanders are still not mathematically safe from relegation. They sit among eight clubs; Dynamos, Yadah Stars, Bikita Minerals, Manica Diamonds, Greenfuel, Triangle, Chicken Inn and CAPS United all yet to cross the 40 point safety line.
Kwekwe United have already gone down, and if Bosso’s slide continues, they could find themselves in that same conversation sooner than they think.
De Jongh’s next three games against Simba Bhora, Manica Diamonds, and Chicken Inn will decide more than just Bosso’s survival. They’ll decide whether his fire can finally light a recovery, or burn the club even deeper into trouble.
