Senegal lift the 2025 Afcon trophy. (X)
Beneath the glowing, humid lights of Rabat on Sunday night, African football did not just hold its breath; it nearly choked on the sheer audacity of what unfolded.
The Stade Prince Moulay Abdellah was supposed to be a cathedral of Moroccan destiny. Nearly 50 years after their last continental triumph in 1976, the Atlas Lions stood on the precipice, backed by a “Red Sea” of supporters so loud they seemed to shake the very foundations of the city.
But by the time the rain began to lash down in extra time, the script had been shredded, set on fire and tossed into the Atlantic.
The early exchanges belonged to the goalkeepers. Yassine Bounou produced a sprawling, desperate save to deny Pape Gueye’s fifth-minute header. Later, in the 37th minute, Bounou channelled his inner gymnast, thrusting out a leg to deny Iliman Ndiaye in a save that defied the laws of anatomy.
At the other end, Morocco’s Abde Ezzalzouli was a silk-thread weaver, providing crosses that begged for a finishing touch—a touch that Nayef Aguerd and Ayoub El Kaabi simply could not find.
Then came the added time of the second half—a period of play that will be discussed in the dim light of sports bars from Dakar to Casablanca for decades.
First, Senegal thought they had won it. Abdoulaye Seck’s header rattled the post, and Ismaïla Sarr turned in the rebound. The stadium fell into a temporary, terrified silence, only for the referee, Jean-Jacques Ngambo Ndala, to rule it out for a marginal foul.
The pendulum swung back with a vengeance. In the 98th minute, after a video assistant referee (VAR) check that felt like an eternity, Morocco was awarded a penalty for a soft challenge on Brahim Díaz.
The Senegalese players, feeling the weight of a double injustice, reached a breaking point. As manager Pape Thiaw beckoned his squad to the touchline, some players began a slow, angry march toward the tunnel, threatening a forfeit that would have stained the continent’s biggest stage.
In that moment of madness, it was Sadio Mané who emerged as the evening’s unlikely diplomat. Recognising the precipice upon which the game stood, Mané moved with urgency, physically and vocally calling his teammates back from the tunnel.
It was a captain’s intervention in the truest sense; by demanding his team return to the pitch, he saved the nation from the looming shadow of embarrassment and, perhaps more importantly, salvaged the damaged image of African football just as it sat on the brink of global ridicule.
When play finally resumed 15 minutes later, Brahim Díaz stepped up. With the weight of 50 years on his shoulders, he attempted the Panenkas. It was a moment of inexplicable hubris. Edouard Mendy, standing as still as a statue, caught the ball with the ease of a man picking up a morning newspaper.
The air left the stadium. Díaz looked like a broken man, his coach, Walid Regragui, administering a visible “bollocking” on the pitch before the whistle even blew for extra time.
In football, as in life, momentum is a cruel mistress. In the 94th minute, Pape Gueye,bthe man who had been denied in the opening minutes, seized his moment. He latched onto a loose ball, resisted a flimsy challenge, and walloped a rising left-footed shot into the far corner. 1-0. The Red Sea went quiet.
The final minutes of extra time were a blurred montage of desperation and rain. Nayef Aguerd slammed a header against the bar from six yards out. Bounou made a miraculous double save to keep the score at one. But as the rain poured down, turning the pitch into a theatre of sliding tackles and frayed nerves, Senegal held firm.
When the final whistle blew, the Teranga Lions stood alone. They had survived the noise, the VAR drama, and a hostile crowd to claim their second Africa Cup of Nations title. For Morocco, the wait continues. For Senegal, it was a night of grit and glory, a final that vanished from memory as it happened, only to be immortalised by the madness of its ending.