adminMy old man used to tell me, long before he waved goodbye to the world of the living, that everything happens for a reason and how in the old days strange things would happen let’s say when a chief was about to die or when the lean seasons, wrecked by drought, were on the way.
Times have certainly changed, from those old days, when the tone of the seasons could be detected from just looking at the behaviour of the flying birds.
But there was something ironic about Wednesday’s events that made me think again about fate after the football gods somehow chose the occasion of my birthday to stage the iconic clash between the two masters of eye-catching passing football in the world – Arsenal and Barcelona (in their alphabetical order not necessarily in terms of importance or superiority).
On my 40th year on this earth last year, when they say life finally begins, the football again provided the world with another Arsenal-Barcelona clash in the Champions League, in a quarter-final tie, but then, unlike now, the majestic showdown did not come exactly on my birthday.
This year, as if on cue, it did.
Barcelona arrived at the Emirates as the team widely acknowledged as the best football club in the world, with the best football player in the world, the best creative midfielder in the world and seven or eight players who, with a little bit of help from their countrymen, were good enough to win the World Cup.
This was not just a football team landing in London but a club that was changing the way football was being played, totally divorced from the ugly defensive shields of the era when the Italian teams ruled the world, and taking us back to the innocence of Total Football when Johan Cruyff and his Flying Dutchmen came close to ruling our world.
This was a team that combined the best of Argentina, with the best of Spain, and in their poetry, so loud and clear in every pass that Xavi releases and in every move that Lionel Messi makes, they had found a way to take the game of football to another level.
Of course, they were not the defending champions of Europe, when they arrived in London for Wednesday night’s showdown.
Neither were they the defending champions of the world. Inter Milan, during an era when Jose Mourinho was their coach, had found a way to contain Barcelona last season, knocking them out of the Champions League in the semi-finals, and then going to win the tournament before beating TP Mazembe to win the World Club Cup crown.
But, even without the titles, Barca still had the respect and this season they got their revenge on Mourinho in the best way possible, with a 5-0 humiliation of his Real Madrid, in El-Clasico Part One, on a night when they put on a show, so rich in quality, seasoned observers struggled to remember the last time a club had played so well in a major game.
Arsenal, destroyed so mercilessly in the second leg of their quarter-final tie by Barca at the Nou Camp last season, had possibly matured from the team that ran onto the field that day but, for all their talent, their big-match temperament was still in question.
Samir Nasri had played better football, as an individual, than anyone else in the English Premiership this season and, to their credit, the Gunners had managed to hold on the Cesc Fabregas, at least for another year, while Robin van Persie’s recovery brought a new dimension to their attack and it was as if Wenger had signed a new player in the January transfer window.
For the best part of the season the Gunners had caught the eye, doing just what they do best, passing the ball around, walking the ball in the net, making a mockery of their opponents with their bag of skills but, whenever you talked that Arsenal were a good team, someone would tell you about Barcelona.
It was as if Barca were on another planet, they were the machine that could not be stopped, they were the team that could not be beaten on the big stage and, as long as Messi was playing, the rest could forget about getting something from the Catalan giants.
So, to some people, Wednesday night’s showdown was like Dynamos versus Shooting Stars in 2006, the real thing versus the replica, Brazil versus Portugal, the real deal versus the clone, CAPS United versus CAPS FC, the real drama versus the reality show, Uchi Nwachukwu versus Munya Chidzonga, Big Brother versus Small Brother But Big In Zimbabwe.
Most of them felt this was just another tie where Barca would fulfil a fixture, Messi would score a goal or goals and the Catalan giants would win with ease.
Thanks Gunners For The Memories
But there are some of us who have always argued that there is a competitive element of the English Premiership that can never be taken for granted, which can never be ignored and, which, can make a difference when the going gets tough.
Those of us who have always argued that, for the better part of the season, the Spanish La Liga is a two-horse show, terribly mismatched, it has started to look more like a Big Brother version of The Scottish Premiership where you know that when there is a loss, among the games that Celtic have played, it is certain that it came against Rangers and vice-versa.
Those of us who have always questioned the mentality of the other teams in La Liga, a key point also raised by Mourinho this season, who felt that most of the teams in the league had this fear mentality, when it comes to playing Barcelona, they all seemed to lose long before they ran onto the pitch.
Those of us who argued that defending was certainly not a virtue, when it comes to La Liga, the performance of some of the players and their teams were so overblown they ended appearing as Playstation merchants simply because there was no resistance at the back.
Those of us who had said that it would be interesting to one day see a situation where Barcelona also falls behind, and they chase a game for long periods, because we had seen so much this season of them leading from the front and it tends to be easy doing that.
On Wednesday we didn’t get an answer to all our questions but we were rewarded by our belief in the competitive nature of the English Premiership, our belief that Barca could be vulnerable on the break, our belief that tough defenders could make them look just like all of us and our belief that Arsenal had matured from last season.
I’m not an Arsenal fan, never was and never will be, but there comes a time in life when the beauty of something, even when it is coming from your enemies, destroys all the little things in you that always make you see evil in them, when their fans are seeing something good.
There was something about the Gunners’ performance on Wednesday that shattered the barriers that divide us as rival clubs, that charmed even the hearts of their eternal enemies like myself, Zwane Dhlakama, Obert Masvotore, Samson Muza and the list could go on, that made rivals look so beautiful we ended up powerless and could only embrace them in their moment of greatness.
There was something about the Gunners’ performance on my birthday that was a reminder of life itself, how this world rewards those who fight for what they want, how this world is so fair that it’s no longer true that it’s only a place, like the old Wild West where only the bad guys triumph.
Yes, Barcelona played well and could have scored more goals than the one they will take to the Nou Camp, yes Messi had his moments, without reaching his stride, he should have been rewarded with a goal or two, yes we can’t be carried away by a 2-1 lead, yes the ball is still in the hands of Barca.
But Arsenal played with passion, made Barcelona work hard, their defence was simply sensational and, in Jack Wilshere, they had a player who a visitor to our planet on Wednesday could have picked as the best playmaker in the world, instead of Xavi.
RVP took his goal well, even if it might have come with a bit of luck and given that the goalkeeper lost it badly in covering the wrong space, but fortune favours the brave and to get into that space, to time his run so well to receive that superb pass from Clichy, to hammer so powerfully, all deserved reward.
The second was a typical Gunners goal.
A break down the flanks, thanks to another touch of genius from Wilshere, Nasri fooling his marker as we expected him to, rolling the ball nicely for Arshavin to curl home a beauty.
Even a Red Devil will find it difficult to ignore such beauty.
Compare And Contrast
While Arsenal gave those who believe in the English Premiership, like myself, to celebrate, our dear Warriors were doing exactly the opposite in their game against South Africa’s developmental side in the CHAN finals in Sudan this week.
Madinda Ndlovu and his men decided to use the platform called CHAN to give ammunition to those who have always argued that there is real substance in South African club football and our club football is not only in a mess but is horribly inferior.
Those who have always told us that Super Diski, the flagship league of the seventh richest league in the world, is the real deal and the unbranded Zimbabwe Premiership is so far off colour that it’s pointless trying to compare it with what happens down South.
Those who have always said that the fact that our best players, like Knowledge Musona, Nyasha Mushekwi, Method Mwanjali, Khama Billiart and Tafadzwa Rusike play in Super Diski means that it’s on another planet while our dear Premiership is still staggering in darkness.
What has always charmed some of us, who believe in the talent that our country has in terms of football, is that we have managed to be competitive without the money, without the sponsors, without the incentives to drive the players to try a little bit harder.
A South African kid growing up in Soweto will love to be like Teko Modise one day, so he trains hard from day one to be a football star, because he can see the life that his role model lives – thanks to the sponsorship that is in South African football.
A boy growing up in Zengeza will probably want to be like Tatenda Taibu, because he sees him playing at the World Cup, against teams like World Champions Australia, flying around the world in the name of sport, coming out in the newspapers speaking about the house he bought in the leafy suburbs etc.
They don’t grow up saying they want to be like Benjie Marere because all they read about him is the challenges that he faced last year as he tried to settle his bills at the flat he rented, how his pregnant wife was kicked out of their lodgings because there was no money to pay the rent and why he is so disillusioned with football he wants to rest.
Incredibly, even against such a depressing background, we still have a breeding ground that produces talented players, against all the odds, who can develop to play competitively against the best that the continent can offer and, for the second time in as many CHAN tournaments, our home-based Warriors qualified for the finals.
Against such a depressing background, we still have players who can compete against the best when the Champions League comes along that Motor Action, on their debut season in the tournament, can have the character to go to Madagascar, after having lost the first leg at home and two of their best players to FC Platinum, and win there and qualify for the next round.
We still can produce a team like Monomotapa which can take on Ajax Cape Town, in the Champions League, and still triumph even though their rivals are branded, and funded, by Dutch giants Ajax and can afford to have expatriate coaches whenever they choose.
We can produce a team like CAPS United which can take on Moroka Swallows, in the Confederations Cup, and still triumph even though their rivals are branded, by German auto giants VW, and can afford to sign even players who are playing in Russia.
We find the passion to believe because when Mushekwi moves from our league, as the winner of the Golden Boot, his quality shines quickly even in Super Diski and when Musona moves, even from our Division One league, he quickly establishes himself at Kaizer Chiefs and becomes the best man in the league.
Our argument has always been premised on the basis that we have the natural talent but our rivals have the big money, have the television, have the sponsors, have Absa, have SuperSport, have Nedbank, have Telkom, have everything that they can want.
Vodacom sponsors Division Two football in South Africa.
Our Premiership has been crying out, without luck, for a partnership with any of our mobile phone network companies and, for the last two years, had no brand.
But on Sunday our bragging rights came to an end when our home-based Warriors were humiliated by the South African developmental side in Sudanin a game that we needed to win to survive and remain in the tournament.
While it’s unfair to build a case on just one game, especially given that our bragging rights were built on what had happened over a long time (CAPS, Monoz, the home-based Warriors winning the CHAN qualifiers), we will be lying to ourselves that what happened on Sunday didn’t hurt.
It hurt because it spelt the end of our campaign, because it was against South Africa (no matter in which colour or form), because we should have won that game, because we lacked the technical capacity to win it, because we blew away our chances and because we defended like we were mad men.
It hurt because, when push came to shove, there was little that came from the bench to give us guidance and help us in our hour of need, because when the South African coach reacted it paid off, because we didn’t read the game and paid a big prize for that and because, crucially, we had all combined to reach this conclusion.
Too Bad Madinda Ndlovu
Madinda Ndlovu has come in for fierce criticism from fans who hold him responsible for the failure by the Warriors to beat South Africa and also move beyond the group stages of the CHAN tournament.
It’s hard to get into Madinda’s corner and provide his defence although I have maintained that he was not solely responsible for the mess that we found ourselves in during the CHAN finals.
Yes, as the head coach he was the most influential man, who could make a difference, and I agreed with all those who are saying that he fell short of expectations.
But let’s also consider this for a moment.
Why did we send a rookie national team coach, going into his first major football tournament, a rookie assistant coach going into his first major football tournament, a rookie national team manager, going into his first major football tournament, and a rookie kit manager also going into his first major football tournament?
Madinda was going into his first major football tournament in charge of the national team, Darlington Dodo was going into his first major tournament as assistant coach of the national team, Chris Chitindi was going into his first major tournament as manager of the national team and Gift Mabvudza was going into his first major tournament as kit manager.
On that technical bench, only one man, the team doctor, Nic Munyonga, could claim to have experience of how to handle situations when it comes to such tournaments.
Mabvudza was a big surprise, in terms of appointments, and his case hasn’t been helped by all the insinuations coming that he is linked to this and that person and he is also a director, in a company, with one of the officials who travelled to Sudan for the tournament.
It’s such little things, which we must get right, for our football to come right.
When people are appointed on merit, like Rosemary Mugadza, they know that they have a challenge to do very well otherwise they will be drowned by their results.
When people are appointed by certain criteria, because they know this and that fellow, because they are being repaid for this and that reason, then they are not under pressure to perform.
The tragedy is that players don’t usually respect such structures.
But even with such a set-up, we should have qualified for, at least, the quarter-finals of the CHAN tournament and that we didn’t is all because, in key decisions, the head coach came short.
When Madinda left for CHAN, we could tell in his first game that his best two strikers were Charles Sibanda and Clive Kawinga.
The majority of the people who watched domestic football last season will certainly disagree with that because, while Kawinga had a decent season at CAPS United when he arrived there, he never established himself as the main man, as the supplier of goals that the team could depend on.
He has never enjoyed a reputation as a goal-scorer, the fox in the box who makes a difference every time the ball goes in the area, and – in terms of a proved goalscorer who can win you matches – if I was to choose between Kawinga and Enasio Perezo, I would go for the latter.
You might find it funny but that would be my choice.
The same way I would choose Simba Sithole, in terms of natural goal-scoring instincts, ahead of Kawinga or even Charles Sibanda.
But to choose either Kawinga or Charles Sibanda or both, ahead of Norman Maroto, when you need a gunman, is either self-destructive or simply a decision that can only be made by a man who is not familiar with our football.
Madinda got his first choice wrong, in terms of attack, and lost a good opportunity to beat Niger, which then thrust us under severe pressure for the remaining games.
People will look at the game against South Africa, because it was the winner-take-all, but we lost our chance when we failed to beat Niger.
The other major blunder by Madinda was to keep faith in players who showed promise but were not delivering and they were many of them in that team.
The third was to change his defence, when it had gelled into a unit, in the game against South Africa with the introduction of Zeph Ngodzo for Gilbert Mapemba.
It confused the defence and we all saw what happened when everyone else in that backline moved forward, to sell that offside trap, and Zeph was alone on the line to provide cover.
Yes, the team had challenges and these challenges will always be there because that is the way our football is and, as long as sponsors remain on the sidelines, this will not change.
But some coaches have done well under such conditions and so the challenges can’t be an alibi.
This was a huge test for Madinda and he could have silenced all his critics.
He failed to do so and I don’t think he should wait for Zifa to decide because he clearly has a future beyond the Warriors and it’s clear that the more that he sticks around the team, the more divisions that it creates, and he will always be under pressure.
You can’t get results when you work all the time knowing that probably half the supporters don’t believe in you.
Norman Mapeza walked away because more than half the Zifa board members didn’t believe in him as a man who could coach the Warriors and take them to a new level.
That is what principled men do.
Madinda might have the support from the board but he should also consider that he has lost the support of more than half the fans who believe in the Warriors and that should be good enough a reason for him to walk away from it all.
He was given his chance to serve his country and, in my opinion, he wasn’t a disaster but there were some little things, those little things that matter, which he got wrong, and in those few days in Sudan, I think it became clear that he still needs time before he graduates into the big post.
A Letter From Brian Mutasa
Hie Rob,
You once wrote that Charles Mhlauri is the only credible person on the list of coaches, compared to all the clowns that have been brought into the team, and that was about a few weeks ago.
I believed you. But as l was reading your article yesterday (Thursday), and I could be wrong, I sensed some negativity directed to Mhlauri.
The bottom line is he has already done his part and what is killing our football is this hard stance from you and Zifa.
You even dismissed what he is doing in the USA without even verifying your facts. Director of coaching means that he is in charge of all teams and has to conduct sessions and, instead of applauding the US system and how they are working on their grassroots, you appeared to diminish his involvement with Under-8 all the way to Under-18.
This is what we lack.
Gerrard Houllier was also director of coaching and now he has been hired by Aston Villa and Jurgen Klinsmann did the same.
I think for the record are you aware the US Under-21s have won the World Cup if my memory is right. They have two other World Cups under their belts at junior level.
As l was researching I came up with a number of coaches that have worked as director of coaching and this includes Carlos Queroiz, ex-Portugal coach and Manchester United assistant coach and Bob Bradley, who coached the US at the World Cup.
If someone is a good coach that will never change. Mhofu stayed for almost six years without coaching and came and won the Cosafa Cup and Kenny Daglish is also doing the same at Liverpool as coach, the same club he served as director of development.
I think Charles has shown creativity by not moving from mine to mine and other towns in Zimbabwe but breaking new ground.
How many Zimbabwean coaches are holding coaching positions outside of Africa? My cousin is playing at Bradley College and tells me how they are drafted into MLS and how football is in that country and he tells me that directors of football are important there.
I think while Benedict Moyo may have his issues, you appear to have fallen into the same trap of just dismissing even good deeds by Zimbabweans.
I thought instead of belittling Mhlauri, we should be encouraging Zifa to end the speculation. Right now there is a damaging H-Metro article giving us a story five years old.
You travelled with national team to Egypt for the 2006 Nations Cup and you know that Mhlauri does not drink beer yet you are silent.
You know that his wife was not with the national team, and you know this, but you still keep quiet. I doubt that Peter Ndlovu can do a blog and we all know him.
We are told the Warriors woke up at 4am to do a training session after beating Ghana . . . come on Rob you know this does not add up. Vadyiwa they wake to train for what come . . . on guys. Now you try to use that to allege there is hatred between him and the media.
Why are you quiet on this issue?
Our football will move forward if we start standing for the truth. I thought your story line was going to be that let’s move forward.
Even advise Mhlauri to focus on building than trying to plunge into the divisions that we now have.
Stand above partisanship and help our football Baba.
Brian Mutasa
No Brian, You Got It Wrong
I never attacked Mhlauri because I still feel, among those who are in the running for the position of national coach, he is the better candidate.
What I just highlighted was that it was now uncertain that he was going to come because of the issues I raised, including the fact that he appears tied up with his projects in the United States.
I never belittled his role as a college football coach because I know what it means and I will advise Brian that he should read my story again and, just as well, the story has since been confirmed by senior Zifa officials on websites.
The other option Brian would have been to write nothing, keep quiet and wait for nature to take its course. But journalism doesn’t work that way because the readership wants to know what’s happening.
I can’t talk about events in Egypt at the Nations Cup because I never wrote about that.
So, in short Brian, I’m not an authority on the issues and I believe H-Metro went to lengths to give Toni Yeboah acres of space in which he was saying all that thing was not true.
It’s a tough world Brian and, yes, you are right that we have to build bridges and, if you have seen the tone of our coverage in recent months, you will see that we have been trying to do just that.
That is why we embraced the Warriors in Sudan and supported them all the way until they lost.
A Lighter Look – Prostitute Parrots
A lady approaches her priest and says, “Father, I have a problem. I have two female talking parrots, but they only know how to say one thing.”
“What do they say?” the priest inquires.
“They only know how to say, ‘Hi, we’re prostitutes. Want to have some fun?'”
“That’s terrible,” the priest exclaims, “but I have a solution to your problem.
“Bring your two female parrots over to my house, and I will put them with my two male talking parrots whom I taught to pray and read the bible. My parrots will teach your parrots to stop saying that terrible phrase, and your female parrots will learn to praise and worship.”
“Thank you!” the woman responds.
The next day, the woman brings her female parrots to the priest’s house. His two male parrots are holding rosary beads and praying in their cage. The lady puts her two female parrots in with the male parrots, and the female parrots say, “Hi, we’re prostitutes, want to have some fun.”
One male parrot looks at the other male parrot and exclaims, “Put the beads away. Our prayers have been answered!”
Come on United.
Chicharitooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
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Bongani Ndlovu