The advent of democracy and the re-admission of South Africa into the international football family introduced a fascinating dimension in the local football arena.
For those who had been in the business of local football for decades, there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
For many of South Africa’s great footballers, a better life in the more lucrative and professionally managed European leagues beckoned. Inevitably, the football fan, and to some extent the coach, became the casualties of these exciting developments.
When the giants of South African football started to dispose of their most valuable assets to the highest bidders in Europe, the fan had to settle for a sanitised version of the local game. And the poor coach was expected to mount a serious challenge with a bunch of lacklustre, no-name brands — a feat only accomplished by Pitso Mosimane, Ted Dumitru and Muhsin Ertugral.
This state of affairs was as a result of a new business strategy led by Jomo Cosmos boss, Jomo Sono. The emphasis ceased to be on building strong teams and winning championships — it was more on exposing players to the international market for better financial returns.
In fact, it is well known that when selling a player in the local market, Cosmos would insert a clause that would entitle it to cut ties when the player was sold overseas. The fact that the annals of Bafana Bafana are, by and large, dominated by former Cosmos players and the club has little to show for it in its trophy cabinet bears testimony to the success of this strategy.
Thus, the player agent became more prominent. Although the relationship between the agent and the club was initially antagonistic, the appreciation of the value of this salesperson matured with age. It is this link between the middleman, the player and the extensive African and overseas clubs that has led South African football gods to change their attitude somewhat towards agents.
Ideally, however, it’s still preferable for owners to cut out the agent and deal directly with buyers.
Unfortunately, this strategy is, to a large extent, behind the demise of Bafana Bafana. Over the years, there has been a fierce battle for the control of the national team to influence the final 15. Any player who dons the national team jersey is, in one way or another, paraded to the talent scouts of the international market.
It is therefore no coincidence that when a Bafana coach is linked to a particular club or agent, players of that agent or club will dominate. Interestingly, Mamelodi Sundowns players, whose team is not obsessed with selling players overseas, have hardly featured in the national team set-up.
It is this phenomenon that is behind the ill-treatment of overseas-based players. South Africa is the only country whose players become useless once they have overseas contracts. Once you have been sold overseas, you have outlived your purpose. There’s no more financial gain; the emphasis is on the next sale.
Furthermore, it is the concentration on the international transfer market that has led to the downfall of the once-feared Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates. Although you cannot fault the owners of these teams because these are private entities and the strategy makes good business sense, it is painful to ardent local football supporters.
Football is a game of stars. It is these football greats that attract support to the game. No matter how many spin doctors a club might employ and how much gobbledygook they might spew, without stars, the stadiums will remain empty.
It makes you wonder how many of us have gone back to read the articles that were written this time last year. There’s a striking resemblance. All the better players have been sold — good for them and their careers. The teams will field the same chaff and display the same trash, but expect better results. Club ownership, bases and names will change. The media is steering the hype.
It is still Mamelodi Sundowns, a social responsibility project for one Patrice Motsepe, which is poised to dominate the Premier Soccer League again. If all goes well, with a little bit of luck, their supporters will have a good season again.
Sadly, Sundowns are doing exactly what the top teams were doing two decades ago. Except for the Brazilians, the game is no longer about the supporter — it’s about rands and cents. It would be interesting, however, to know how much, from a business point of view, those in the beautiful game are making.
This is big business and club owners have invested their lifetime savings in their teams. The league will never go back to where it was decades ago unless owners are convinced that keeping the stars will make them more money than selling them. And that’s unlikely in the short term.
No matter how persuasive our local football commentators are about the quality of our game today, our football died with the brigade that left these shores in the Nineties. We missed the funeral. It is no wonder that Shaun Bartlett, Doctor Khumalo, Shoes Mosheou and Lucas Radebe, all of the 1996 winning team, still feature prominently in local adverts.