Andrew Muchineripi : Soccer
Somewhere between the overlavish praise and the unjustified criticism surrounding the friendly between France and South Africa in rain-lashed Lens, lies the truth about our national team. While defeat is never an enjoyable pill to swallow, a country competing in the international arena for just five years has no reason to hang its head in shame after losing 2-1 away to the 6-1 second favourites for the World Cup.
It is a result most European national teams with decades of experience behind them would settle for as France possess in household names like Marcel Desailly, Zinedine Zidane and Didier Deschamps, footballers of the highest calibre.
Yet listening to radio talk shows this week, one would have been forgiven for believing Bafana Bafana had suffered a humiliating six-goal defeat. Perhaps the national team has been too successful and expectations have grown too high too soon.
Some criticisms, like the ridiculously late introduction of Benni McCarthy, were fully justified. Others, like the suggestion that coach Clive Barker is failing because he does not take notes during matches, leave one almost speechless.
The more one listened, the more one sympathised with Barker. Now I know why the diminutive native of Durban needs R50 000 a month as part-time coach. He has to buy special ointment to soothe his burning ears. When are success-spoilt South African supporters going to realise that we do not have a divine right to victory. That at the highest level of international football, the host nation usually wins. That Rome was not built in a day (or two for that matter).
Barker made two promises when he assumed control of a then-struggling Bafana Bafana (five wins in 15 matches) three years ago. He predicted that South Africa would lift the 1996 African Nations Cup and qualify for the 1998 World Cup finals.
Most observers, this correspondent included, felt Clive had been in the sun too much. Well, as they say, the rest is history. Why this patriot is still not trusted nor respected ranks among the great unsolved mysteries of African football.
Let me hasten to add that the Muchineripi family are not neighbours of the Barkers in the city where we are told the sun never sets, nor has Clive and his good lady invited us to lunch, or offered sports wear from his agency at cost price.
Nor was I happy with everything I saw below those leaden clouds in the industrial heartland of France. Far from it. Even South African man-of-the-match Willem Jackson had moments he will not recall with pride. Remember the scene midway through the first half when Deschamps faced the new cap, pushed the ball past him, ran round, and carried on. Remember who dodged an even race for possession with Deschamps seven minutes from full-time?
It was the Orlando Pirates defender and it proved fatal as the French captain pushed the ball into the path of the Brian Baloyi of France and Monsieur Ibrahim Ba comfortably held off the rather tame challenge of Neil Tovey to score the winner.
That said, Jackson deserved most of the accolades showered on him and Tovey, a static figure on several occasions in the closing stages, surely realises that the pressure is on again. I refuse to join the anti-Tovey brigade because each time he is crucified in the media or by fans, he bounces back with a superb display.
The sooner we realise there are good, average and bad players and not young and old ones, the better.
Jackson apart, the selfless dedication of Philemon Masinga and John Moeti deserves praise, while giant question marks now hang over several members of the ”establishment”, notably Sizwe Motaung, Shoes Moshoeu and Helman Mkhalele.
Motaung was once again found wanting by a direct, fast forward; so-called play-maker Moshoeu was nowhere to be found for most of the proceedings; and why completely out-of- touch Mkhalele was not substituted for 64 minutes, only Barker knows.
Even Lucas Radebe cannot escape censure. One can almost forgive his half-hearted attempt to clear a Zidane through-ball as one of those things, but why did he then stand still, allowing Stephane Guivarc’h the time to pick his spot for the equaliser.
Returning to substitutions, when is the coach going to end the nonsense of sending on players to run down the field once before the final whistle blows? It is to the eternal credit of late arrival McCarthy that his one run almost produced an equaliser.
Mkhalele should have gone at half-time and McCarthy deserved at least 20 minutes to prove his worth as it remains a major concern how few real scoring chances were created by South Africa and how seldom our strikers got behind the French.
Another formidable mission looms on November 15 in Germany and my starting line-up would be: Baloyi; Mark Fish, Radebe, Jackson; Doctor Khumalo, Dumisa Ngobe, Eric Tinkler, Moeti, Alex Bapela; Masinga, McCarthy.