With all the predictability of a political scandal, the chorus whipped up fast and loud after Bafana Bafana reached for the World Cup exit door in Durban last week.

Time for Stuart Baxter to go, was the inevitable response; a lazy, convenient reaction that ignores more fundamental issues that go to the heart of the local game.

The most level-headed response came from prominent agent Mike Makaab who tweeted, “I’m not taking the blame away from the coach, but José Mourinho would struggle in this situation. A complete re-think is needed at SAFA.”

By all accounts Baxter had a tough time drawing his players together for the double leg against Cape Verde. When he did, there were accusations that he favoured his former club. He duly prepared his team and imposed his game plan.

But a game plan is useless without hunger and passion and the inner drive that powers champion teams. There was little urgency, the cute passing masking a glaring lack of ambition.

It’s all very well showing snappy skills, but what’s the point when they are seldom seen in proximity to the goals.

The lack of fire in front of goal has dogged local soccer for many years. Famously, it’s the imports who tend to do most damage, a habit our players have been reluctant (or unable) to adopt.

Zambian Collins Mbesuma’s record 25 PSL goals were scored a dozen years ago and will probably remain unchallenged for 12 more years.

The desperadoes out there will say that Bafana still have a mathematical chance – they must somehow beat Burkina Faso and repeat their earlier win over Senegal after the match was sullied by a dirty referee and ordered to be replayed. But the game is up when you go this route. They’re as good as dead and buried.

There’s an astounding immaturity that permeates the local game, probably because there are so few local skhokhos (generals) who boss the park. In past years, we’ve been fortunate to have hard heads like Neil Tovey, Lucas Radebe, Quinton Fortune and Matt Booth, who were all physical and imposed themselves.

Now, perhaps only Itumeleng Khune commands a similar level of respect.

The SA team has also got to a dangerous point where people have stopped caring. Failure has become so routine – the team last qualified for the World Cup in 2002 – that the frequent horrors are met with a shrug. And that’s half the trouble. When similar episodes occur in cricket and rugby, there is an outcry.

The letters pages erupt; the phone lines fire up on talk radio and the anger simmers. Yet, Bafana are met only with indifference.

There’s something desperately tired and complacent about Bafana whose schizophrenic nature was evident the moment Baxter started. In his first game, an African Nations Cup qualifier, they belted heavyweight Nigeria.

Mere days later, Zambia put the lid on those celebrations by beating SA at home.

And so it goes.

What’s to be done?

Clearly, players must be better equipped to take the step up. Managing egos is vital, a by-product of teaching them life skills. Prima donnas abound. They must be kept in check.

Our best players must play in foreign leagues, where standards are superior. Indeed, almost all the Cape Verde squad play in European leagues, chiefly in France. It’s what allows them to punch above their weight.

We must also move beyond our obsession with the domestic scene, which functions in a bubble. The measure of excellence is found overseas. Player exchange programmes and twinning with overseas clubs is a proven method. More must be done to dip into international best practice, be it in training, nutrition, recovery or science.

Baxter also has a long-term plan, which he must be allowed to impose without interference. Firing him will achieve nothing.

Finally, the talent pipeline must be refined. Skills are there in abundance, but tactical nous, strength and fighting spirit must be nurtured. Skill alone can’t hack it. These qualities must be non-negotiable.

This will allow the coach to select players who are almost the finished product; players who need refinement and little more.

Watching Russia 2018 from afar will be a grind, the heavy price to pay for inertia. – © Sunday Tribune

 

 

 

 

One of the inevitable memes floating around social media in the aftermath of “The Money Fight” reflected a picture of Floyd Mayweather now being “51-0 – if you include the time he beat his wife”.

The great boxer is, of course, officially 50-0 after the circus show in Las Vegas, but anyone with a long memory well knows that Mayweather has frequently had run-ins with the law. Six years ago he did jail time for beating up his girlfriend.

(In 2015, on a visit to SA, he fled from Nelson Mandela’s old jail cell on Robben Island, saying it was a horrible reminder of his own incarceration).

Even as the Las Vegas hype swept up all and sundry, several naysayers questioned the boxer’s wild popularity, not least here where violence against women is endemic.

The question over whether sportsmen are role models or not has lingered in the air in recent weeks, particularly as two members of the All Blacks recently had off-field peccadilloes exposed.

Aaron Smith has been involved in a grubby episode said to have involved sexual escapades in a disabled bathroom with a woman who wasn’t his partner. There have since been allegations of cover-ups and lies, suffice to say that Smith is enduring a lousy time.

When the scandal broke last year, he was banned for one match and sent home from the tour of South Africa.

More recently, teammate Jerome Kaino woke to the horror of a front-page report in an Australian newspaper claiming he was carrying on with an affair. His wife posted a Facebook status with a single word, “Devastated”, before hurriedly deleting the post.

Kaino was promptly put on a plane and sent home.

“Shaggers shame All Blacks brand,” read another brutal headline.

The All Blacks famously have a “no dickheads” policy and these episodes were much in conflict – and not a little ironic.

The immediate consequence of these scandals was that they were big news. As public figures, that’s what they unwittingly sign up for. Fame and celebrity is a by-product of excellence and given how the public is obsessed with celebrities, it’s inevitable that their every move is watched and analysed, more so in the vacuous age of social media.

Sportsmen are often bemused at how fame creeps up on them. Many have no idea of how to manage it. One minute you’re Mister Nobody, the next you’re all the rage.

Some embrace it, but many others try their best to avoid the trappings.

At the heart of the issue is whether sportsmen deserve to be held up as role models at all. To be fair, they seldom describe themselves thus; it’s a label we casually throw on them, as if they qualify merely by being in the limelight.

The matter is further complicated when sportsmen, or indeed teams, consciously sow an image of wholesomeness and goodness. The All Blacks go out of their way to do so, their mantra being “better people make better All Blacks”.

It’s a line that rings hollow when the high-jinks of its members are exposed.

Lately, Mike Tyson has been described as a role model, a curious twist given how he used to be addicted to chaos in his fighting prime. He was vicious and violent both in and out of the ring, had a stint in jail, dabbled in drugs and suffered from alcoholism. When he visited South Africa nine years ago, he was bloated and angry. He blew a gasket when a local newspaper ran a piece saying how aggressive he was.

Tyson is now a much-changed figure who has utterly transformed himself from the “baddest man on the planet” to a cultural icon who is well read, acts in films, plays himself in a much-lauded one man show that had a Broadway run and carries out charity work.

If you consider how he’s rehabilitated himself – he says he was a “psycho” all those years ago – Tyson’s story is inspiring and far more suggestive of a role model than the trio.

The problem of presuming that sportsmen automatically have redeeming qualities is ours. So too the mistake of believing them to be role models.

We put them on a pedestal and are horrified when it comes crashing down, Oscar Pistorius being the most obvious example.

The grand illusion is all our own. – © Sunday Tribune