Online Reporter
Eddie Chikamhi
Zimpapers Sports Hub
“Catch! Catch!”
The call cuts across the Goromonzi Sports Club field, sharp enough to turn heads beyond the boundary.
A small boy misjudges the ball and it slips through his hands. For a second, Russell Chisikarambwe lowers his gaze, then claps once, firm and encouraging.
“Again.”
The drill resets without fuss.
A few metres away, his twin brother Ralph works with another group, quieter in tone but just as exacting.
He stops a young bowler mid-run-up, adjusts his grip, walks him back a few steps and asks him to start again. It is detailed work, the kind that builds habits before it builds players.
The pitch is worn. The outfield uneven. Equipment is shared, sometimes improvised. None of it slows the session.
On a ground that has, in recent years, drifted towards weekend social football, cricket is beginning to breathe again.
At the centre of it are two 23-year-old twins who once believed they would be chasing a very different future.
There was a time when Russell and Ralph saw themselves in the middle, not on the edges guiding others.
They made the long trips from Goromonzi to Highfield, chasing opportunity at Takashinga Cricket Club, one of Zimbabwe’s most respected development hubs.
It demanded everything.
Early mornings, late returns and constant conversations at home about transport money.
They trained under Nigel Mupurura and Kelvin Jena, improved steadily and held onto the belief that the pathway, though demanding, would open.
Then it narrowed.
“The dream collapsed because of a lot of challenges,” Ralph says. “We couldn’t attend training regularly. Transport became a problem, even though our parents were trying their best. It got too difficult.”
When the Covid-19 pandemic disrupted structures that were already fragile, the little that remained gave way.
The rhythm of training broke. The link to opportunity weakened. For a while, the game slipped out of reach.
What pulled them back was not convenience or chance. It was something closer to disappointment.
Zimbabwe’s failure to qualify for the 2019 ICC Cricket World Cup, sealed by that defeat to the United Arab Emirates at home, left a mark that lingered.
“It hurt,” Russell says. “We felt like we had to do something so that maybe in future the country doesn’t go through that again.”
It was a shift in thinking that did not arrive with a plan, but with a question.
If they could not make it through the system, could they build something outside it?
Back in Goromonzi, they started training on their own. A few children began to watch. Curiosity turned into participation. Participation turned into routine.
“We started including them in our sessions,” Russell says. “Teaching them the basics. The numbers kept growing.”
There was no funding, no equipment worth mentioning, no structure beyond what they could manage between them.
Just time, patience and a willingness to start.
What followed took shape naturally — Goromonzi Sharks Cricket Academy.
Today, its reach stretches across Chinyika Primary, Musonza Primary, Wilmar Junior and Chinyika High schools.
Children arrive from different corners of the area, some walking long distances, others without proper kit, most carrying little more than interest and the hope of learning something new.
They come back the next day. And the day after.
“Cricket is expensive,” Ralph says. “Some of these kids and their parents are struggling, but they are trying. We don’t want them to face the same problems we faced.”
That thought runs through every session.
A cleaner catch. A straighter seam. A corrected stance. Progress is measured in small improvements, repeated until they stick.
In recent months, numbers have grown faster.
Zimbabwe’s spirited showing at the ICC T20 World Cup has stirred interest in places where cricket had almost disappeared.
In Goromonzi, that interest has found a base.
The academy is now affiliated with Zimbabwe Cricket through the Mashonaland East Cricket Association.
Russell and Ralph have completed their Level One and Basic Intermediate coaching courses, adding structure to what began as instinct. Support has started to come in, slowly but meaningfully.
Equipment donations from former Zimbabwe Cricket director of cricket Hamilton Masakadza have eased some of the pressure.
Parents contribute where they can, fuel for trips, food for players, small things that keep sessions going.
What began as two brothers working alone has become something shared.
Their father remembers when they first made the decision to step away from the conventional route.
“They dropped a bombshell on us,” says Crispen Chisikarambwe, now involved in managing the academy. “We wanted them to continue with school, go to A-Level, maybe university. That’s what any parent would want.
“But they just wanted cricket.”
At the time, it felt uncertain.
Now, standing at the edge of the same ground, watching dozens of children moving through drills his sons have set, the view has shifted.
“They are doing well,” he says.
Late in the afternoon, as the session begins to wind down, Russell sends one final ball high into the sky.
It hangs for a moment, drifting slightly with the breeze.
A young boy positions himself underneath it, feet adjusting, hands steady.
He takes it cleanly.
Russell gives a small nod. Ralph glances across, satisfied but already scanning the next group.
Nothing dramatic follows. No celebration. The work simply continues.
But in that moment, on a patch of ground many had stopped paying attention to, there is a quiet sense of direction.
Something that once slipped away is being rebuilt, piece by piece, in the hands of those who refused to walk away from it.
