It is the Cup of Dreams — and the Cup of Paradox. As hundreds of millions of people tune in for Friday’s opening of the football World Cup on the immaculate fields of Germany, there will be the temptation, if only for a moment, to forget the other reality: that 99% of soccer is played at amateur level, most of it in dingy surroundings, in donga streets and uneven fields, in parts of the world whose names won’t be heard on the streets of Berlin, Munich, Leipzig and Stuttgart.
In these townships and favelas, dorps and villages, the World Cup will capture the imaginations of the youth. And as the opening whistle sounds for Germany and Costa Rica, millions of mothers will fervently be hoping that their sons will become the next Ronaldinho (Brazil), Didier Drogba (Côte d’Ivoire), Michael Ballack (Germany), Steven Gerrard (England), Miguel (Portugal), Mantorras (Angola) or Stephen Appiah (Ghana).
In South Africa, while researchers haven’t yet caught on to the trend, anecdotal evidence suggests that a great many parents regard football as a fallback should their children be unsuccessful in academic pursuits. A growing number of young women spend their Saturday mornings taking their children to one of the many sporadic development centres around the country in the hope that they will be spotted by one of the big clubs.
What has happened to shopping, you might ask?
The answer lies in the realisation that, in this age of celebrity, parents are now perhaps more aware that formal education is competing against other activities, such as singing and sport. The kwaito star popularly known as Mzambiya changed the life of his parents when he became financially successful at the tender age of 15, though his studies admittedly had to suffer.
Of course, one can argue that this has always been true for a lucky few. But it is impossible to argue with the commercial value of football, which over the years has catapulted a select group of young soccer players from the dusty fields of Africa to the stadiums of Europe.
While at face value the appeal of the World Cup is the month-long concentration of some of the greatest athletes in the world, displaying sublime skills and talent rarely seen, for a cross section of young people the significance of football will involve more than dreams. It will be the beginning of hard work, of transforming their young lives, and of inculcating values that will stay with them for a lifetime.
Such youngsters will begin to understand that Saturday mornings no longer represent an opportunity for extended sleep. As they watch the 64 matches to be played in the coming days they will be seeing themselves in the Arsenal defenders and Côte d’Ivoire internationals Kolo Toure and Emmanuel Eboue, and they will come to know that the success of these stars is borne out of hard work and sacrifice.
When their parents wake them up, they will begin to contemplate that the painful benefits of being a good athlete involve discipline, rigorous training and the ability to forsake certain tendencies. And to believe that one day, they too can play in the World Cup.
This is the Cup of Dreams.
But even as the World Cup raises the profile of individual players and participating countries, it also exposes disturbing trends in the organisation of the sport in Africa, and the gulf that persists — and even grows — between the rich countries of Europe and the developing nations of Africa, Asia and Latin America.
In 2006, how can we be optimistic when the African continent is sending one of its weakest-ever contingents to what one critic refers to as the football Cold War?
How can we send our troops to the best football spectacle in the world without Africa’s best player — Cameroon’s (and Barce-lona’s) Samuel Eto’o — three times in a row the African footballer of the year?
Even as we rise to the heights of 2010, African football seems to be plumbing new lows.
This is the Cup of Paradox.
The World Cup is as much about competition based on national interests and pride as it is about sport and world opinion.
Europe’s influence and dominance is reflected in its superior numerical representation, with 14 teams participating. Leaving aside the origins of Europe’s wealth and economic position, it has, over the years, established solid structures to develop the game on the continent. Of course, it did not get there alone: the European leagues are powered, in part, by talent plundered from Africa.
But we can hardly pin all the blame on Europe for the desultory state of African football. That Africa’s traditionally strong soccer nations have failed to qualify — and that the continent will be represented by a surprise line-up of Angola, Côte d’Ivoire, Ghana, Togo and Tunisia — merely indicates the deterioration of standards and the inability of the continent’s football leadership to reverse the slide.
Instead of taking advantage of many initiatives by Fifa to develop the game in Africa, our leaders have, as usual, squandered numerous opportunities to improve the quality of the game. In South Africa, one of the best institutions for talent rearing, the School of Excellence, has been left to collapse because of bad management.
A central problem with the South African Football Association (Safa) has always been its complete lack of corporate governance. In the absence of encrustations to hold it accountable to its grassroots constituencies, Safa has managed — without any backlash — to abdicate its enormous developmental responsibilities.
South Africa’s national soccer federation draws into its ranks obsequious individuals whose main interest seems to be raking in the perks of travelling around the world, in business class and at no personal cost, while accessing dollar-rated daily allowances.
The government’s desire to intervene is hamstrung by Fifa, which vehemently opposes interference with football. But this is bound to change soon. More African governments, with the backing of some federations, are beginning to question Fifa’s constitution, arguing that the relationship between government, sport and communities is such that it demands interference. At home Minister of Sport and Recreation Makhenkesi Stofile has come up with a Sport Amendment Bill, under discussion in Parliament, which would give the ministry powers to take action where necessary.
Our continent should seize the opportunity of hosting the 2010 World Cup as a chance to stop the haemorrhaging of talent. It is only through strong leagues and championships that Africa will be able to compete against the world on an equal footing. The 2010 tournament represents an enormous opportunity to improve our administration, organisation and accountability, and to ensure that the game is developed as never before on African soil.
There are positive developments to report as we head toward 2010 — among them that Africa is expected to record 5,8% economic growth this year. But football development is struggling, partly because of competition for limited resources. Virtually every African country faces an acute need for hospitals, schools, roads and economic infrastructure. Infant mortality is appallingly high. Problems of water supply and disease brought about by unsanitary living conditions create more pressure on governments to fund basic infrastructure ahead of sport development facilities.
Football development budgets must justify themselves against these formidable problems. And for 2010 to raise the level of African football, building the facilities needed to host the games cannot be left to the government alone. Business will have to play a large supporting role.
This is not Japan, where after the 2002 World Cup they destroyed most of the facilities because they had no use for them. In Africa, children still dodge cars in the streets to kick their round-shaped leather objects. The benefits of 2010 for our continent will be enormous.
So as the World Cup opens in Germany, foremost in the minds of Africa’s football leaders should be how to make the distant dreams of millions of African children come true when the games finally come to our backyard.
And then, we may hope, it will become the Cup of Africa.