What if Mario is the right man?

Howard Musonza in MARRAKECH, Morocco

WE left Morocco with the same number that has followed Zimbabwe at this tournament for two decades. One point. Another group stage exit.

Another flight home before January had a chance to breathe.

And yet, as I sat at Menara Airport waiting for a connection that would take me through Zurich, Johannesburg and finally back to Harare, a different question refused to let go.

What if, in all this familiar disappointment, Zimbabwe have finally stumbled upon the right coach?

It is an uncomfortable question, especially now. Elimination sharpens instincts.

It invites blame. It pushes us to tidy the story into something familiar and angry.

But football has a habit of complicating neat conclusions.

Marian “Marino’’ Marinica arrived in Morocco under suspicion. I was among the first to say it out loud. His record in Africa did not inspire confidence.

His appointment did not calm a restless public. And history was not on his side.

No coach, local or foreign, had ever taken Zimbabwe beyond the group stage.

That history swallowed him quickly. One point from three matches placed him alongside Kalisto Pasuwa in 2017 and Sunday Chidzambwa in 2019. Others before them had done slightly better on paper and still returned home early. The pattern looked unbroken.

But patterns do not always tell the full story.

Zimbabwe did not hide in Morocco.

They did not park themselves behind fear or reputation. Against Egypt in Agadir, I was still in transit, watching on a phone screen somewhere between continents, but even through delay and distance, the shape of the night was clear.

The Warriors led. They stood toe-to-toe with seven-time champions. Washington Arubi made saves that belonged on a bigger stage. Prince Dube scored. Mohamed Salah decided it late.

That match did not feel like surrender. It felt like a team discovering itself under pressure.

By the time Angola arrived in Marrakech, belief had already begun to shift. Zimbabwe attacked. They created. They missed.

Knowledge Musona scored with calm authority. The draw felt incomplete, but it carried something forward.

Then came South Africa. A derby shaped by memory, proximity and consequence.

Zimbabwe needed a win to rewrite history. They scored twice. They kept coming back. They fell again. The exit was final.

What matters now is not the score-lines. It is what lived underneath them.

Across three matches, Zimbabwe scored in every game. They created chances against all three opponents. They refused to fold when momentum turned. That alone separates this campaign from several that came before it.

Marinica did not promise miracles. He spoke instead about work, sacrifice and patience.

“We went there to score goals, we went there to attack the teams and we went there to actually win the matches, not to defend, not to park the bus,” he said.

That was not rhetoric. It showed on the pitch.

The coach’s influence was most visible in his willingness to trust youth when the stakes were highest. Tawanda Maswanhise’s performance against South Africa did not arrive by accident.

Marinica had held him back. He had listened to the noise. He had ignored it.

“We wanted him to be a little bit of a hidden gem for this match,” Marinica said.

“We needed something fresh. Something different.”

Maswanhise delivered. He scored. He hit the post. He stretched defenders. He looked like a player belonging at this level, not surviving it.

“He has a bright future,” Marinica added.

“The boy is starting to mature now.”

That line matters because it points forward, not backward. This team is young in places that count, Maswanhise. Tawanda Chirewa, Tadiwa Chakuchichi, Isheanesu Mauchi and others are still developing at home.

Around them are experienced players, who understand the weight of the badge and the cost of mistakes.

Marinica believes that balance is where Zimbabwe’s next chapter lives.

“These players have to be the backbone of CHAN, the backbone of COSAFA, the backbone of the next big team,” he said.

“We need to start building from that.”

There is honesty in that assessment. No shortcuts. No grand promises. Just a clear sense of direction.

The hardest moment of this tournament did not belong to the coach. It belonged to the captain. Marvelous Nakamba stood in front of microphones after the South Africa game and took responsibility without shelter.

“I just want to say sorry. I just have to man up and accept the mistake that I did. And I’m sorry to the country, to my teammates, to everyone involved.”

There was no deflection

“We lose as a team. Hopefully we soldier on and learn from the mistakes. It’s life.”

That tone matched the team Zimbabwe saw in Morocco. Honest. Imperfect. Willing.

Marinica echoed it

“People shouldn’t be hard on the players that make mistakes because everyone in their daily life makes mistakes,” he said.

That is not a plea for sympathy. It is a call for perspective.

Zimbabwe’s problem at this AFCON was not effort or courage. It lived in the narrow space between performance and control.

Between creating chances and closing games. Between belief and maturity.

Marinica has been in charge for just over a month. He inherited a side that had gone four matches without scoring.

He leaves one that found the net every time it played in Morocco.

“I’m proud,” he said. “In a very short period of time we managed to change a team from not scoring any goals into a team that scores in every match and creates lots of chances.”

Pride and disappointment can live in the same room. They did here.

So where does that leave Zimbabwe?

It would be easy, even tempting, to sacrifice another coach and reset the story once more. It would fit history neatly. It would satisfy anger. It would also risk missing what has quietly begun.

This team did not leave Morocco broken. They left unfinished.