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IT’S very likely that there will be a capacity crowd at the Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban today as South Africa bids an emotional farewell to Senzo Meyiwa, the Bafana Bafana ‘keeper, and skipper, who played football with an infectious smile.

Only last Saturday, Senzo was in goals for Orlando Pirates, in driving rain at the Orlando Stadium in Soweto, as he helped the Buccaneers cruise to an emphatic 4-1 win over Ajax Cape Town in a Telkom Knockout Cup quarter-final tie.

The next day he was dead, the latest high-profile victim of South Africa’s gun culture, shot at the home of his girlfriend Kelly Khumalo, in what has initially been reported, by the police, as a botched robbery in one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

Senzo’s death has touched South Africa because, in the past few months, he has risen to become the captain of a resurgent Bafana Bafana and, in four 2015 Nations Cup qualifiers, the goalkeeper did not concede a goal as his country won two games and drew the other two to lead the race in their tough group.

His big smile brightened a Bafana Bafana team that had lost its way, since that day at the Mombela Stadium, three years ago, when they failed to read the rules and, thinking that they had qualified for the2012 Nations Cup, plunged into an on-field party as they celebrated with their fans.

His leadership qualities, in the tough terrain of Lubumbashi, where he saved two penalties to help Orlando Pirates beat the referee, and TP Mazembe, and qualify for the Champions League final, in Khartoum and in Brazzaville, where he kept clean sheets for his country, endeared him to a nation that was beginning to feel that their football stars were useless spoilt kids only interested in driving their expensive sports cars on the highways of Johannesburg.

The fact that he waited for his chance, for long playing as the second choice at both Pirates and Bafana Bafana, was a quality that was celebrated by many in a country where many footballers are very impatient and, driven by their egos, have this misplaced feeling that they are the best things that football ever created.

It’s a measure of the impact that he has had on his country’s football that the Soweto Derby, arguably the biggest game, in terms of spectator attendance on the continent today, and the entire Super Diski and National First Division programme for this weekend, has been put on hold as the nation mourns a ‘keeper who, in the short time he was in the spotlight, became the darling of his country.

I felt the pain when Senzo died, the tragic nature of his death meant that even the devil would have been shamed by his work to prematurely take the life of this footballer, and even though I don’t have a soft spot for Pirates, the fact that they have never felt that our players are good enough to make a difference in their team has always pushed them far away from my radar of affection, I could not help but feel sorry for the Buccaneers.

Even Fifa president, Sepp Blatter, felt the loss of this young ‘keeper because, at 27, he was just beginning his journey given that ‘keepers can last in this game right into their 40s.

ZIFA even sent a message of condolence to their South African counterparts because this was one death that we felt as if Senzo was one of our players, a Warrior and not one of those men fated by their identity, to be Boys forever, even when they grow up to be men in this game.

The Friends of the Warriors also sent their condolence message, which was published in the letters column of NewsDay, and they told us that they will even send two of their representatives to be there in Durban to join thousands of mourners who are set to bid farewell to Senzo.

The Zimbabwe National Soccer Supporters Association also sent their condolence message, to this newspaper, which wasn’t published, with their official, Fortune “Giant” Bgwoni, describing Senzo’s death as a huge loss for football, not only in South Africa, but across the continent.

Yes, Senzo wasn’t an ordinary footballer, he was the skipper of Orlando Pirates, he was the skipper of Bafana Bafana, he had not conceded a goal in four Nations Cup appearances, he was a good leader, he was leading the revival of a football giant that had lost its way and his national team coach, Shakes Mashaba, could not contain the tears and broke down at the media conference on Monday.

SENzo IS A LOSS, AND SO IS CHITATO

A few weeks ago, a small group of people, mainly family members, gathered at Granville Cemetery for the burial of Edmore Chitato, the former Zimbabwe international striker, who was alone, forgotten by our national game, when he became ill and neglected by our football leaders when he needed their helping hand to get the treatment needed to deal with his heart ailment.

The family members, who spoke during his burial, wondered how their son, a servant of our football who had made a lot of fame playing for top clubs, including the national team, could be neglected like this, in his hour of need, by people he believed were his compatriots and left alone to meet his fate.

His dad is still alive and when his son began to make an impression in our football he believed that he had found the man who would take care of him but he was alone, to deal with the burden of taking care of his son, when he became ill and he was right to wonder how someone, who had played for Hwange, Masvingo United, Monomotapa, Dynamos, Motor Action and the national team during the African Nations Championships, could be forgotten by our national game.

He was right to ask how a man who had flown our national flag, in the Champions League, and made the entire nation smile as he led the line of the Monomotapa attack, when they beat ASEC Mimosas, and made us brag that we were better than those South Africans, when he helped Monoz beat Ajax Cape Town, could be neglected by a game where he had made such a big impression.

When Chitato was ill, the old man hoped that he would get a helping hand from ZIFA, simply because his son had played in the CHAN tournament, but none came through and he thought that he would get a helping hand from the PSL, because his son had spent years playing in the top-flight league, but no-one came through.

Having borne the responsibility of tendering for his sick son, until his last breath, the old man must have been even shocked that the very football community, which had embraced Eddie as one of them and celebrated his skills, turned its back on them when the time came for them to bury him at Granville Cemetery.

His two kids, Clara and Arshavin, might be too young to understand all this, and be frustrated by a cruel community that quickly forgot about their father, but his wife Sibongile will never forgive us and who can blame her if she keeps telling her kids, as they grow up, that they should never fall in love with our football because it’s a very cruel game.

I will understand her if, today, she is accusing all of us of being hypocrites, that we are crying out so loud and so clear for Senzo Meyiwa, while no one shed a tear for her husband when he died even though, unlike Senzo, he wore our colours, played in our league, carried our passport, played for our Warriors and, in the Champions League, he flew our flag.

I will understand her if, today, she tells her neighbours that ours is sick society that sheds all these tears for someone, so divorced from our identity, yet we didn’t even feel a thing, didn’t even drop a tear, when her husband, someone who was one of us, breathed for the last time just a few weeks ago, finally succumbing a heart ailment, when no one among us cared to give him a helping hand.

I will understand her if, today, she says she wished her husband had been an actor on Studio 263, than a footballer good enough to play for our national team, because if he had charmed us on television, during the days of that soap, maybe, just like Pretty Xaba, the industry would have remembered him when he needed treatment, some fund-raising games would have been played to raise money, and some people would have come on board to send him for treatment in India or any of those places around the world.

I will understand her if, today, she curses all of us for being a bunch of heartless individuals, who fake their love for their football stars and then show their true colours, and evil hearts that will make even Satan feel that he is a better Devil, when something happens from these footballers and they move away from the back pages of the newspapers.

I will support her if, today, she calls a press conference and tells the world that we are just a community of imposters, charlatans, fake individuals who don’t mean what they say, or say what they mean, and somehow find the heart to cry for a South African footballer, including sending representatives to his funeral being held thousands of kilometres away, when they could not make the short trip to KuMbudzi for her husband’s burial.

As South Africa buries Senzo today, let’s watch and pick some lessons because we should all be ashamed that we have been treating our heroes, our football stars, as if they are nothing, when they fall on hard times and, like Chitato, when they fall sick.

I CRIED FOR YOGO YOGO, THAT WAS A TRUE TRAGEDY

On March 13 this year, a decade passed since Blessing “Yogo Yogo” Makunike and two of his teammates — Shingi Arlon and Gary Mashoko — perished in a car crash, while returning from a league match in Bulawayo, in an accident that also claimed the lives of two of their team’s fans.

Of course, the 10th anniversary of their death, which drew thousands of mourners in Harare and Mutare, passed without notice because we are a football community that quickly turns its back on those who leave us, without any care for those they left behind, and without any conscience to remember them as heroes.

There was nothing from ZIFA, even though Yogo Yogo played in four World Cup qualifiers for the Warriors, and in 2000, was part of the national team that won the COSAFA Cup under Misheck Chidzambwa, providing the assist that helped Kaitano Tembo head home the solitary goal as we beat South Africa in Port Elizabeth, not very far from where they will bury Senzo today.

There was nothing from the PSL, even though Yogo Yogo was one of the characters who illuminated the top-flight league, a rare talent that attracted people to the stadium, someone so good that Brenna Msiska described him as “exceptionally gifted.”

He even received a direct invitation from Arsenal to come to England for trials and we can’t say that the nature of his death wasn’t tragic because their car burst into flames, on impact, and these young lives were burnt to their death.

Yogo Yogo wasn’t at the house of a girlfriend, when he met his death, but was coming from club duty, having played for CAPS United, his beloved Green Machine, in a 2-1 away win in Bulawayo, that day before making the long trip home.

Like Senzo, he was just 27, so young to die, with so much yet to fulfil in his football journey, and we can only wonder what might have become of Yogo Yogo if he had played until retirement and CAPS United, and the Warriors, can only wonder, too, how much he would have made them better teams.

I cried for Yogo Yogo and, 10 years later, I can’t understand how our football can forget that such a footballer once lived, that on the 10th anniversary of his death we should have done something special to remember him, that it’s so easy to forget that he met his death in such cruel fashion.

He would have been 37 this year and, like Mike Temwanjira whom he played with Serbian club FC Javor, would probably be seeing out the twilight of his career in Thailand and picking a cheque of US$15 000 every month.

Too bad he died young, too young, and too bad we seem to be in a hurry to forget him, the way we seem to be in a hurry to forget Adam Ndlovu, to forget Eddie Chitato, we didn’t send a representative to his burial, while we can send two people to Senzo’s burial.

We are going to be judged harshly.

Or we are already serving that punishment with the Warriors failing now and again to make an impression in international football.

To God Be The Glory!

Come on United!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Di Mariaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

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