AFC Leopards must be reprimanded

Just what will it take to end this Ingwe ‘madness’? My words have been very carefully chosen here because just twenty four hours to their match against Chemelil Sugar in a KPL Top 8 match, it was their new coach Luc Eymael who exclaimed in total exasperation: “It’s madness here... I am very irritated”.
To put things in context, a missed ride to the team’s training ground on Monday afternoon was the source of the Belgian’s frustration.
But if the gross maladministration of Ingwe is indeed madness, then I can’t find the right words to describe the shameful act of the club’s fans in recent days.
In my last column, I wondered aloud how the Sports Stadia Management Board (SSMB) could grant Leopards a carte blanche in their facilities yet the conduct of the team’s fans has lately left a lot to be desired.
Under the guise of protesting ‘poor officiating’ Ingwe’s fans set the tone of their agenda this season by ripping off seats at the Moi International Sports Centre, Kasarani on the very first day of the season after their match against Chemelil Sugar ended in a 1-1 draw.

On Wednesday night the same hoodlums once again went on the rampage at Nyayo National Stadium as their team faced imminent defeat to the sugar millers. Yet again, their scapegoat was ‘poor officiating’.
For too long Gor Mahia fans have been depicted as the vile ‘war merchants’ in Kenyan football. But at this rate, AFC Leopards are will sooner rather than later stage a coup on Sirkal.
If Leopards fans can resort to violence and wanton destruction of property against a team of Chemelil’s ilk, then what will happen when they meet their eternal nemesis in three weeks’ time? So the question is: for how long must Leopards continue in their wayward ways before the authorities take action?
During that first match, against Chemelil on February 24, a top Leopards official had the nerve to shift blame on the home team (Chemelil) for their failure to put up sound security measure never mind practically all the fans inside the stadium were donning Ingwe’s famous blue and white hoops.
It will be interesting to hear what the team’s administration will proffer in defence of the vile fans if and when KPL holds to them to account for their actions.
That said, no amount of lame excuses can justify the violence that was meted out by Ingwe fans on Wednesday night. The authorities must act now!

Hell hath no fury like K’Ogalo fans scorned!

A story published on last week’s Wednesday edition of the Daily Nation confirmed that Gor Mahia fans do not take kindly anything that tends to disparage their beloved team.
It takes a very brave journalist to brand the mighty Gor as ‘perennial continental flops’ - as the article insinuated.
So naturally, for his troubles, the writer whose byline the story bore got some serious tongue lashing on social media from a section of miffed Gor fans.
That’s just how passionate K’Ogalo fans are. And who would blame them? The world over, football fans are known to go to unthinkable extent to uphold the honour of their clubs.
My colleague and friend who penned the piece should actually count himself very lucky for getting off the hook with just a mere dressing-down.
A tale is told of a historic meeting between arch rivals Gor Mahia and AFC Leopards in the finals of the 1985 Cecafa Club Championship in the Sudanese capital Khartoum.
Pundits have described this encounter as the most fiercely contested final in the regional tournament’s history. With Leopards having beaten Gor 2-1 in the previous year’s edition, the tie was thick with sub plots as the sworn enemies took their battle beyond Kenyan borders.

At the end of a bruising 90 minute, Gor prevailed over Leopards with a sweet 2-0 victory. But there was a strange twist to the tale when Gor Mahia’s two goal hero William Obwaka had his rural home torched by AFC Leopards fans who felt betrayed by a kinsman who chose to go to bed with the enemy.
Finally, I found it a little bit odd that late on Friday evening the Kenyan Premier League hurriedly dispatched information to the effect that Sport Stadia Management Board (SSMB) had declined to host Gor Mahia at the Moi International Sports Centre, Kasarani.
As carefully as the mail had been drafted, the message was clear. The Green Army are still considered persona non grata at all SSMB facilities.
Strange, given that Gor have not had one single incident of crowd trouble this season. In fact it was AFC Leopards’ fans who on the very first day of the season ripped off seats at the Kasarani facility in a violent fit of rage ostensibly to protest ‘poor officiating’.
How odd then that Ingwe were allowed to prance in feline grace around the same facility on Saturday evening only to have Gor locked out for their Sunday afternoon date with KCB? Is SSMB’s ‘hosting advisory’ on K’Ogalo a case of selective judgment of simply giving the dog a bad name? Just my thoughts.

Kenyan clubs should drop Gunners' defeatist mentality

It’s the most annoying thing that I keep hearing. When will Arsenal fans (the local ones) realize that ‘their’ team has hit rock bottom?
On Sunday I was left completely aghast with a colleague at the office (a self-styled Gunner) who was besides himself as Everton frustrated Tottenham Hotspurs to a 2-2 draw at the White Hart Lane.
His source of excitement was informed by the notion that defeat for Spurs would provide a window of opportunity for his beloved Arsenal to sneak through the backdoor into the Uefa Champions League.
I found that a little pedestrian. It’s no secret that over the last few years, eight to be precise, Arsenal has been reduced to a run off the mill side in the Premiership that finds enough reason to ‘celebrate’ a top four finish.
But on every occasion they have gatecrashed the European banquet, they are ever content in scrambling for crumbs that fall off the high table while the big boys (Barcelona, Real Madrid and Manchester United) eat to their fill.
Arsenal fans keep talking about qualification for Uefa Champions League, but what's the point of qualification only to get whacked all over the place?
But I care less about the much hyped English Premier League, let alone spineless teams that forever keep talking about the future and not the present.

That brings me to the crux of the matter, local football. For all the talk about the Tusker Premier League being one of the most competitive this side of the Sahara, there is little evidence to validate this claim.
If indeed the proof is the pudding, then the top two Kenyan Premier League sides, Tusker FC and Gor Mahia, the burden of proof has been way too heavy to shoulder, going by their dismal showing at the continental stage.
Just over two decades ago, Kenya teams had little difficulty in reaching the latter stages of continental tournaments. Indeed, the then ‘Mighty Gor’ class of ‘87 class of wrote history by becoming the first club in East and Central Africa to clinch a continental diadem.
Seven years later, Tusker came very close to repeating Gor’s feat but sensationally capitulated at the hands of Congolese side DC Motema Pemba when losing seemed more difficult than winning.
Since then, it has been a downward spiral for Kenyan teams. Nowadays, we seem more content in just making the numbers as opposed to contesting for honours.
True, Egyptian clubs are established on sound infrastructural and financial foundation, but that should not be an excuse for Tusker’s and Gor’s tame display against Al Ahly and ENPPI respectively.
I would have thought that either team should have, at worst, forced a draw at home. I cringe at the thought of our clubs going the Arsenal way of taking pride in merely qualifying for continental tournaments only to get kicked left, right and centre

Age is more than just a number

I have always wondered; if indeed age is just a number then why it is such a pain for most people to reveal how old they are? Having been schooled in the old-fashioned way I, for one, takes utmost care on all matters related to age when dealing the womenfolk.
Most ladies have an inborn fetish for youthfulness and from where I come there is an unwritten rule that asking a woman her age is the height of churlishness. It’s simply a no, no!
I must also hasten to add here that one of the missing bit of detail on my Facebook and Twitter accounts is the date of my birth. Not for any reasons other than a deterrent measure for a barrage of unsolicited birthday wishes.
But I digress. My gripe is with the issue of age falsification in sports.
While it’s an accepted fact that ‘age cheating’ is rampant in sports, recent claims that former Nigerian defensive lynchpin Taribo West once ‘slashed’ his age by 12 years in order to join a club in Europe is, for lack of a better word, mind-boggling.
The former president of Serbian club Partizan Belgrade, Zarko Zecevic, last week blew the lid off the can with claims that West lied about his age and that the former Super Eagles centre half was actually 12 years older than the 28 years he claimed to be when he joined the club way back in 2002.

A certain website couldn’t have put it better by saying: ‘If Taribo West is as old as they say he is, then his professional football career is one long achievement in itself.’
Although a rare feat in football, there exist a few players in the mound of Lothar Matthaus, Edwin van der Sar, Jens Lehman, Paulo Maldini, Hossam Hassan and Roger Milla (all legendary in their own rights) who extended their playing careers beyond their 4oth birthdays.
But without a doubt this class of players is a dying breed. Manchester United’s philandering yet ageless winger, Ryan Giggs, is perhaps the last of a lineage of players with an incredible ‘staying power’ (no pun intended).
What makes Zecevic’s claims incredible is that after leaving Partizan in 2004, West played for four more years, turning out for four different clubs, until 2008 when he finally hanged his boot.
That would have made him a 46 years old scoundrel who cheated his way into all age group tournaments that he represented Nigeria in, including the famous 1996 Olympic Games victory in Atlanta, USA.
Of course, and naturally so, West has disproved these claims. This begs the question are all those fabled tales of West African nation’s success in youth development just a sham?
But Kenyan football too is not immune to age cheating and my haunch is that there are many players in the Kenyan Premier League carrying passports with falsified dates of birth.

World Cup 'madness'... the aftermath...

Rarely does the work of a policeman entail quelling a sanctioned riot disguised as a football match in the full glare of an estimated 700 million worldwide viewers.

That's exactly what one English police sergeant by the name Webb Howard found himself embroiled in last Saturday as the first World Cup on Africa soil came to an end.

What football pundits had billed as a would be greatest final of all time imploded into badly scripted play, the main protagonists being the thuggish Dutchman against the petulant Spaniard.

The was the ultimate show-stopper and Webb was only meant to play a supporting role. But in strange twist to the tale the chief members of the cast connived to thrust him into the heat of the spotlight.

Fate having placed him right at the center this farcical, yet comical show, Webb, who took a break from law enforcement duties 2 years ago in favour of the whistle, flashed a record 14 yellow cards and a red a card, just for good measure.

Suffice to say, in so doing the South Yorkshire Police officer unwittingly earned himself an eternal place of infamy in a Dutch folklore that will be told and retold in many years to come.

But then again, what other options did good old Webb have given that the Dutch hoodlums – the once highly acclaimed inventors of 'Total Football' - seemed more intent in clattering down and flattening the spineless and soft-pithed Spaniards? Something was bound to give in, at some point - and it did.

Having displayed a remarkable degree of restraint, Webb's patience finally ran out deep into extra time. The eventual jettisoning of Johnny Hetinga - the de facto leader of the triangular 'axis of evil', that included the repulsive Mark van Bommel and Nigel de Jong, was indeed very long in coming.

In the immediate aftermath of the ill-tempered final match, anger took the better of fans of the jinxed Oranje, with mounted police called to break up 200 rioting Dutch fans in The Hague of all places.

Funny that in a mere 120 minutes of total anarchy, the hunter - Webb - turned into the hunted. That's the irony of life.

Not so far away from the setting of this well choreographed charade, this whole business of a man and his many cards must have left the millions of Kenyan viewers with a sense of deja vu.

Kenya is known be a very political state and in local parlance, these are indeed the times of the 'Greens' and 'Reds'. In typical Kenyan speak, the two 'primary colours' have taken a whole new dimension ever since they were unveiled as they official colour codes of the looming plebiscite.

Absurdly, this whole colour fad bears the remotest connection to the beautiful game. A 'Red Card' is no longer connotative of a players expulsion from the field of play nor does a 'Green Card' refer to the once much coveted license to the 'land of opportunities' - President Barack Obama's birthplace.
Still, you have to marvel at the Electoral body's ingenuity in cashing in on the spirit of the game by running an advert in between live match coverage with a tag line that went like this … “Red or Green, we are Kenyans.”

Yet the greatest tragedy to this episode is that one section of the ever-feuding Kenyan football (mal)administrators had the audacity to laud our hands-on Premier's attempt to do his own version of a 'Jonathan Goodluck' coup. Perhaps a case of political-correctness taken a bit too far.

On whether Howard Webb, failed either by acts of omission or commission, the jury is still out there. But there can be little doubt in the mind of the majority that the first World Cup held on African soil, by the Rainbow Nation, was one big success story; whichever side of the colour scheme you choose to look at it from.

Time to go gaga!!!

Every time my colleague Ayumba from the Daily Nation jumps to his feet to cheer and shout himself hoarse as Bafana Bafana lay surge on the Mexicans, the elderly white man perched on a high stool at the bar behind us reacts with spontaneous fits of anger.

He keeps fluffing his hands wildly while mouthing some inaudible protests which are duly drowned by the frantic fan's persistent din. At first I mistake the old man’s livid reaction as his unique way of cheering on the South Africans.

It’s only much later that I realise that the poor fellow is actually aghast by my partner’s perceived insolence in denying him a view of the crystal clear HD LCD screen that has captured the attention of all and sundry in the house.

Am tickled, but I don’t bother to alert the apparently oblivious Ayumba who is too engrossed in his cheer-leading exertions to take any notice.

It’s a Friday evening and we are at Kengeles, right in the heart of the blissful suburban Lavington Green to catch the historic kick-off of the 2010 Fifa World Cup, courtesy of MultiChoice Kenya.

The bubbly party mood at this placid joint that is popularly patronized by clientèle from the upper scale of the social class is uncharacteristic of the establishment.

With us on the same table is another colleague from the print, Ateka. This brother is, as usual, calm and collected as he slowly sips his Tusker baridi.

Behind us, at the bar, is a young couple. The man - a lanky Caucasian - is taking a Tusker too while his ‘very’ pregnant companion seems content with a glass of bottled water. They are hardly speaking to each other but seem quite comfy all the same.

A few minutes before half-time, a middle-aged gentleman settles on the empty table across ours. He is soon joined by another man in a grey suit and the two immediately order their drinks.

But wait a minute! Isn’t the latter of the two a clergyman; an ever observant Ateka discreetly nudges me. Sure enough - you can’t be wrong with the unmistakable white collar. And isn’t the man of the cloth downing his Tusker Malt baridi!

A mystified Ayumba quickly posts this lewd observation on Facebook via his cell phone to trigger a flurry of subversive comments from the ever eager online netizens of social network.

The back lobby, where the live action is being projected of four giant LCD screens is the preferred section for the rest of the media 'gang'. The placed is packed to the rafters!

There is a buzz about the place but the surround HD commentary somehow muffles the animated conversation of the vuvuzela-brandishing fans donned in assorted team shirts.

Perhaps this convivial sense of camaraderie explains our ‘Mzungu’ friend’s indignation and frustration at having his privacy so rudely intruded.

Unfortunately, there is no reprieve for him: the height of this madness is when Siphiwe Tshabalala lets fly a rocket that nestles with a bulge on the top corner of the Mexican net in the 55th minute.

Goal number one of 2010 Fifa World Cup is greeted by cacophony of sounds... the noise from the blurring vuvuzelas, honking car horns, and wild cheers is deafening.

Inexplicably, when Rafael Marquez equalizes for the Mexicans with just 23 minutes left on the clock, a few rounds of cheers are heard from some overzealous fans who seem to be just happy to savour the moment.

The game is soon over and the first person I turn to is the guy next table who identifies himself as Gaitho, a Nairobi businessman. The drinking pastor has since left. “Am not much of a football fan. I only came here to meet my pastor friend . I noticed you guys were startled when he walked in, but then....” he stutters and stops.

Your favourite teams? “Italy and Nigeria”, he quips without any further elaboration.
Next, I move to the bar where the indignant Caucasian man - by now as high as a kite from his tipple - is still sitted with a slightly drooped head.

But when I introduce myself he quickly grabs my Press Card and gives it long hard dreary look. “ Am not a ‘Mzungu’, I’ve lived in Kenya for 12 years”, he snaps at me in a drunken drawl when I ask for his reactions to the World Cup kick-off.

The next minute, he's warmed up to me and goes ahead to confess that he is not so enthusiastic about football but has a liking for rugby. “I don’t support any team but I hope South Africa does well” he mumbles with a half smile.

Inspite of my spirited coercion, the guy simply wont reveal any more. “Am simply known as Terry, that all you need to know ”, he says curtly before clasping my palm with a firm grip. End of interview!

On my way out, I bump into the premises owner Garvin Bell (Bell translates to Kengele in Kiswahili) and Stella Ondimu of MultiChoice Kenya. Garvin, who like the rest of his staff, is sporting a red t-shirt and black track slacks, seems highly energized by the carnival mood.

“Am so excited to be part of this communal goodwill event which has brought all these wonderful people together with the common purpose to support their teams and generally having fun”, says Garvin.

And what's with the number 7 on the back of the shirts? “Its the presumed lucky number here at Kengeles ”, he further confides.

Its 8:00pm and music from the lobby is now a few decibels higher. Outside, more cars are pulling over into the already jammed parking lot. The party has just began... time for me find my way home for the second match of Day 1.

Shame of the Naked Prince

The die has been cast. The long journey to the 2010 FIFA World Cup has turned the final corner. Much water has passed under the bridge since 2006 when South Africa made history by becoming the first African nation to successfully bid for hosting the world football showpiece. Skepticism, especially by European nations, over South Africa's 'below par' infrastructure, security concerns and doubts over the Local Organizing Committee's (LOC) ability to successfully stage the event have all been the major talking points at one time or the other during this period.

The stage now is set for what might just turn out to be the most memorable edition in the tournament's history. The end of the European football season in the last few days has set the right tone to the final countdown to South Africa 2010. Mid-last week, national coaches for SA-bound teams for the penultimate time took centre stage in naming provisional 30-man squads that will eventually be trimmed down to 23 on June 1 ahead of the June 11th - July 11th excursion down South.

Its a well know fact that an appearance in the FIFA World Cup is the ultimate objective of virtually all football players. In almost all the world football powerhouses like England, Germany, France, Brazil and Argentina, donning your national colour at the greatest football bonanza carries almost the same weight as the honour of receiving a national medal from the Queen or the President. It of matters little your country pedigree in the 'beautiful' game; the sheer fact of merely doing national duty at the biggest competitive stage of the game expressly earns you a permanent place in the annals of national folklore.

That explains why many a professional football player endlessly toils to achieve this lifelong dream of playing in the World Cup. Not even the sweet taste of success at the showpiece helps in satiating this hunger. Its for that reason that every World Cup year, quite a few players a left distraught after failing to earn their places in their national squads. The furore and public outcry, both at home and abroad that, surrounded the exclusion of Brazilian national icon Romario's exclusion from the 2002 Japan/Korea contingent underscored the single-mindedness and great awe with which virtually all footballer regard the World Cup.

Little wonder then the shock that greeted Brazilian coach Dunga's decision to take an unpopular stand by not drafting in his South African-bound squad two-time FIFA World Player of the Year, Ronaldo de Assis Moreira aka Ronaldinho. The talismanic former Barcelona play maker once mesmerized the global audience with uniquely skillful way of playing the ball coupled with sudden burst of great speed, balance and an unmatched ball control . Ironically, only a few years ago, the ever smiling Ronaldinho was enjoying the form of his career.


His great vision on the field of play the and a knack for scoring outrageous goals certainly endeared him to many football fans. Notably is the jaw dropping overhead kick that he executed in the 2006-07 la Liga match against Villareal. Still unforgotten also, is his audacious free kick that completely fouled former English goalkeeper David Seaman at the Quarter final stage of the 2002 World Cup in Japan and Korea. It is in rumoured in some quarters that that blunder which costed England a place in the Semi final brought tears to Seaman's eyes long after the conclusion of the event.

How times have changed. Ronaldihno will now join a long list of players that will miss the action in South Africa in just a matter of days. That the pragmatic Dunga actually chose to name his final 23-man squad as opposed the stipulated one of 30 players dealt a final severe blow any hopes that Ronaldinho might have haboured in sneaking into the Selecao. But Ronaldniho is not only. Along side him in this the sad company of 'rejects' are fellow AC Milan and former Brazilian teammate Alexandre Pato, former French captain, the often combative Patrick Vieira, and the Inter Milan duo of Javier Zanetti and Esteban Cambiasso both Argentines. Other big names in this growing list of yesteryear's heros include Italians Francesco Totti and Luca Toni, former Dutch goalscoring machine Ruud van Nestelrooy as well as former English captain David Beckham.

The latest addition to this list - who many neutrals will probably empathize with - is German captain, the indefatigable Michael Ballack who for some strange reason always prefers to pull on the pressumedly 'unlucky' no.13 jersey both for club and country. While it would be preposterous and superstitious to draw a parallel to the many sad endings that Ballack has endured in his illustrious career, ill-fate certainly seems to endlessly dog him, especially when it matters most.

Ballack's injury however is not intriguing. The tragedy lies behind the story of the player responsible for his injury. 23 year old German born Portsmouth player, Kevin-Prince Boateng, who has uncannily evoked the wrath of German fans actually has some German blood in his veins. Boateng who is of mixed parentage - his father a Ghanian and his Mother a German- has only recently been cleared by FIFA to be legible to play for the Ghanian national team. Up till Ballack's fateful injury occasioned by a tackle from Boateng during last Sunday's FA Final, the possibility of showdown between the two players on June 23 in a Group D clash in Johnnnesburg's Soccer City had been very real. A bizarre twist in the tale is that Boateng's half brother Jerome has been named in German coach Joachim Loew's provisional 30-man squad, meaning the two brothers could face-off in South Africa wearing two different national colours.

Suffice to say, the injuries of Ballack and Beckham were most unfortunate for the two players who had hoped make their final bows in South Africa. However, the exclusion of other younger and ambitious players like the much maligned Italian teenage prodigy Mario Balotelli, the French pair of Karim Benzema and Samir Nasri, Machester United's Brazilian midfielder Andersson and Real Madrid's Fernando Gago will most certainly leave their teams - and indeed the 2010 FIFA World Cup - more the poorer.