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he watched the 2011 BancABC Sup8r Cup final between Highlanders and Motor Action.
Exactly 20 years after he last played for Bosso, en-route to a career in England that would scale dizzy heights he would even be compared to the legendary George Best, King Peter was back to watch his first major final in the stadium that he used to call home.
He had taken a road trip earlier that day from his new base in Harare, where he has been based since he moved back home from his foreign adventures that took him to England and South Africa, and arrived just in time to see the game get underway.
King Peter wore a dark business suit, complete with a corporate blue shirt and matching tie, for the grand occasion and he looked every part the Zimbabwean football ambassador that we all want him to be.
He was a guest of the sponsors, BancABC, who felt that it was important that the legendary football star also graces the occasion and lends his Midas Touch to the first major knockout final staged in the City of Kings for a very, very long time.
In a country that has a sickening habit of quickly forgetting its heroes, especially its sporting heroes when they leave the theatre, it’s refreshing that we have people like the guys at BancABC who have found a way of connecting us to our past.
For some of us, as we watched what was unfolding on the pitch at Barbourfields that day, the presence of King Peter provided a timely throwback to the days when our domestic football was alive and kicking and provided a quality product that was worth every penny.
The days when magicians roamed our football fields and you didn’t have to wait for the Harare Derby or the Battle of Zimbabwe for a reasonable dose of entertainment given that even Black Aces,
BAT Ramblers, Darryn T, Gweru United, Bata Power, Mhangura or Eiffel Flats would provide something magical.
Even little Fire Batteries would guarantee you a good afternoon of magic at Chibuku on a Saturday afternoon with Mike “Dutchman” Maringa being the conductor of the orchestra for Lovemore Gijima Msindo’s side that also had magicians like Lewis “Mangezha” Kutinyu and Austin “Masebho” Juwayeyi.
I was lucky to watch King Peter during his spell on the domestic scene, exploding as a raw 17-year-old schoolboy in 1990, and doing enough to become the youngest player to win the Soccer Star of the Year when he shared the award with George Nechironga.
I still remember that dashing schoolboy, in oversized black Bosso shorts, with a blinding pace and incredible trickery, who became even a better player the following year, in 1991, where he only played half the season before Coventry City snatched him away from us.
But in those six months, King Peter had already taken us down memory lane to the golden age when Stanley Ndunduma could wreak havoc down the wing with the touch of class, and when the spiky-haired Moses Chunga exploded and did things that we had never seen on a football pitch before.
So, after the scandal of robbing Stanford “Stix” Mtizwa to reward Masimba Dinyero with a Soccer Star of the Year gong he didn’t deserve in 1989, and the shame of the GNU ceremony of 1990 when the award had to be shared, the football writers restored innocence to the gong when King Peter won in 1991.
And, as King Peter watched a very dull BancABC Sup8r Cup final at Barbourfields on Saturday, some of us could not help it but mourn about how things have changed on the local scene and how the present was a far cry from a past when such a game would produce fireworks and leave lasting impressions.
To say that the BancABC Sup8r Cup final was a dull affair would be an understatement because the game never got going, there was never a time during the match when one team conjured a move that had five passes, the midfield was dysfunctional, the defenders kept pumping long balls forward and there was no creativity at all. Now and again we would wait for that spark but it never came.
Maybe Allan Gahadizkwa would provide it, so we thought and waited, but now and again he found himself lost in that confusion in midfield where there were too many bodies but very little creativity and, inevitably, there was lifelessness in the game.
Maybe Eric Mudzingwa would provide it, or so we thought and waited, but now and again he found himself isolated in that web of confusion in midfield where there were too many people but very few ideas of how to turn this crucial department into the creative hubs of the teams.
Yes, Conrad Whitby tried his best in the first half and showed a lot of potential in the way that he held up play and directed the movements but he soon fizzled out, being swallowed by the ocean of mediocrity and we soon lost him and the little light that had flickered in the darkness was gone.
Just as well Whitby, who has the potential to develop into a very good player capable of playing for a foreign club, was the architect of the goal that separated the two teams in a game so dull we should consider ourselves lucky that we apparently were witnesses to a goal from open play that day.
His weighted cross from the left was perfect and, somehow, the Bosso defence let it float towards the blind side with noone tracking its path and they paid a huge price when Gahadzikwa headed home what proved to be the decisive goal.
Oh, by the way, Gilbert Banda fired his effort from a free-kick against the crossbar, with Marlon Jani well beaten, and you get a sense that maybe the football gods were cruel on Bosso on this occasion because, given the way both teams conspired not to play football that day, a draw in regulation was a fair result.
Yes, substitute Graham Ncube should have equalised, when through on goal and with Jani at his mercy, but fired horribly wide – right in front of Soweto – and maybe the same football gods will say that we presented the perfect opportunity, for such a lifeless game to end in a draw, but Bosso blew it away.
Maybe, just maybe!
Bosso Fans and Hooliganism
The pain of losing such a match, in their backyard, must have been too much to bear for some of the Highlanders fans who rained missiles, from Soweto, and then attacked the security fence after the match as they turned their anger on the police on duty that day.
Some analysts have questioned why the police took time to react but, as I watched from a distance, I felt the police on duty at Barbourfields on Saturday were thoroughly professional in handling a public violence incident.
There is always a danger of reacting too early and worsening a situation that can be contained by letting the emotions run their course and you have to give the Bulawayo police full marks for the professional way they handled a volatile situation.
They didn’t fall for the bait for them to fire teargas, and worsen the situation, and even when they were taunted, they stuck to their professionalism and monitored the situation, using their shields to protect themselves from the missiles and then sending their dogs to flash the hooligans from the stadium.
Well done, Bulawayo police.
One of the foolish conclusions that have come from the incidents at Barbourfields on Saturday is the blanket statement that Bosso hooligans ran amok that day.
Yes, there were some disturbances and it’s unfortunate that this could happen during a major cup final with the sponsors present inside the stadium.
But to blame the deeds of a minority faction on the majority of Bosso fans who, to their credit on Saturday, did not join the hooligans in their senseless battle against order, would be unfortunate and a miscarriage of justice on the Highlanders’ institution.
My rough estimates will show that about 20 or so people we involved in those violent scenes and they cannot in any way be a true representative of the other 7 000 plus who chose not to throw a missile onto the stadium and swallowed the pain that came with defeat at home.
When we start taking 20, no matter how violent those people might be, to be a true representative of 700 people, let alone 7 000 plus people, then we are certainly losing the plot.
To me, the majority of the Bosso fans came to support their team and they did so with their hearts even on a day when their beloved side conspired with the opposition to produce one of its worst performances this season.
That they were still pushing their team forward, as late as the 85th minute with the introduction of Gift Lunga breathing life into their attacks, showed that they were on a mission to win this game and everything else, to those fine men and women, didn’t matter much.
Some of them might have been hurt that noone from their stands, housing the Bosso fans, won any prize in the raffle draw, with all the prizes being won by the fans in the away supporters’ end, and they showed it with their songs, but their frustrations were understandable because we all want to win such prizes.
But when it came to the madness of missile throwing and that attack on the security fence, the majority of them – and that is what matters – didn’t join and watched it all unfold, possibly wishing that it should all end as quickly as it had begun.
I have been to Barbourfields when serious violence erupted and I was there when Taribo West ended up seeking refugee at Mpilo hospital.
But while what happened at the end of the BancABC Sup8r Cup final was an eyesore, it would be foolish to paint the majority of the Bosso fans, who were at Barbourfields on Saturday, with a black colour and label them hooligans when they didn’t join that madness.
When journalists write stories saying that Bosso fans spoiled the BancABC Sup8r Cup final, I tend to disagree with that because I think we should be selective in our words so that we don’t end up even grouping the victims among the aggressors.
Cup finals, by their nature, also attract the odd fans who usually don’t come to watch the team on a regular basis and there is a danger that, in this group of supporters, old habits of hooliganism still live large and this group, which we might not see again at Barbourfields this year, was probably responsible for the chaos.
I had a good view of what was happening, from a vantage point, and I could see that 99.98 percent of the Bosso fans didn’t plunge into that madness and if we can’t give them credit for that, then we are losing it.
The last time I watched a Castle Lager Premiership game, there were 10 000 fans packed at Lafarge for the tie between Gunners and Dynamos where Callisto Pasuwa’s buoyant men turned on the style to end Moses Chunga’s unbeaten run in his second spell at Chando Kupisa.
The colourful road show of cars, as they made their way out of the capital on the Mutare Road to Mabvuku for that game, the lively nature of the crowd inside that small stadium, the four goals that we saw, all helped convince me that I wasn’t wrong to still believe in the Castle Lager Premiership.
The other day at the gym, I was discussing football with a colleague called Dumi who told me that he has lost whatever interest he used to have in the domestic Premiership and would now rather spend his time watching his favourite Arsenal or anything from Europe.
I told him he wasn’t the only one because there were a lot of people in his shoes.
But I wasn’t one of them because, while I believe that European football is technically better than our game and I have a passion for Manchester United, home still provided a product that could be watched and, if you stopped wanting to see a Wayne Rooney every time you see Rodreck Mutuma, something that could be enjoyed.
I love the Castle Lager Premiership, as poor as it is, and there is a reason why there were 10 000 people at Lafarge the last time Dynamos played a league match and there were delirious scenes in Mabvuku, with cars blowing their horns, when the Glamour Boys won that match.
Home is where the heart is and if we can’t support Murape Murape, Gilbert Banda, Charles Sibanda, Gilbert Zulu, Ashley Rambanapasi, Marlon Jani, then who will support them?
If we can’t write about Murape Murape, Gilbert Banda, Charles Sibanda, Gilbert Zulu, Ashley Rambanapasi, Marlon Jani and all the rest of the crew in the domestic Premiership, who will write about them?
There were 91 000 fans at the FNB Stadium on Saturday, for the Mtn8 Wafa Wafa final between Orlando Pirates and Kaizer Chiefs on Saturday, six thousand more than those who watched the World Cup final between Spain and Holland, and it tells a story about the power of local stuff.
Rooney has The Sun, Daily Mirror, Telegraph, Guardian, Times, Evening Standard, Express, Daily Mail, Manchester Evening News, BBC, SkySport, you name it, about 50 media organisations to write and talk about him every day, and all that Murape has is The Herald and the other newspapers around.
If we can’t be there for him then noone will be there for him.
The point is that our loyalty to the product offered by the domestic Premiership is not misplaced because if we can get 10 000 fans at Lafarge, and hundreds others calling my phone trying to get the result, then it means there is interest in what is happening.
That local newspapers generally sell out, every time Dynamos wins these days, is indicative of the power of the product and the interest that is in that commodity.
I couldn’t wait for the Castle Lager Premiership to return and I’m pretty sure that we are in for a battle royale, starting today, in what is set to be a fascinating race for league championship honours.
FC Platinum might have wobbled just before the break but they remain a very competitive team and you can feel that they are ready for the final assault and a lot, I feel, will depend on how they deal with the test posed by CAPS United today.
Motor Action are bubbling with confidence but beating Chicken Inn, even on home soil, will not be easy and Dynamos are waiting for any slip-up and, on the basis of the opposition, they look to have the weakest opponents when Saints come to town tomorrow.
Then we will have that Motor Action/Dynamos game and that Dynamos/FC Platinum game at Mandava. Who said the Castle Lager Premiership is boring?
Musona Is Not King Peter
Knowledge Musona spoke about a number of issues this week, including the comparison that he keeps getting from the fans who believe that he could be the next Peter Ndlovu.
“I cannot stop people from making comparisons but I know I am still very far from getting close to what Peter achieved in his career,” said Musona.
Well said, young man.
When you have an exciting talent like Musona, you want to get the comfort that he is keeping his feet on the ground and he is not being swallowed by everything that is happening to him.
So, when you hear him say such wise words, you realise that he is keeping his feet on the ground and that’s encouraging.
King Peter was a one-off, and we might not get another one in our lifetime. A century of matches for his nation, record number of goals and twice taking his Warriors to the Nations Cup finals at a time when he was in the twilight of his career.
To me, that’s greatness.
Musona is starting a journey and it promises greatness but he still has a lot to do, and a lot to learn, and we should not labour him with extra pressure that he is the new Peter Ndlovu. What we want is a stable Knowledge and if we can get a fully fit Musona for the Cape Verde match, I can tell you that we have every chance of winning that match.
Mark my words!
Jose Mourinho On Young Talent
Young players are a bit like melons. Only when you open and taste the melon are you 100 per cent sure that the melon is good.
“Sometimes you have beautiful melons but they don’t taste very good and some other melons are a bit ugly and when you open them up, the taste is fantastic.
“One thing is youth football, one thing is professional football. The bridge is a difficult one to cross and they have to play with us and train with us to taste the melon.”
Come on United!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chicharitooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
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