Football is more than just a game

SPORT STIRS something in most of us. Football has particularly been very good at this. It evokes feelings about an individual as it does about a community. Its power is capable of whipping up patriotic and nationalistic sentiments to unimaginable proportions

Sunday, June 15, 2014
Lonzen Rugira

SPORT STIRS something in most of us. Football has particularly been very good at this. It evokes feelings about an individual as it does about a community. Its power is capable of whipping up patriotic and nationalistic sentiments to unimaginable proportions. That is why every once in a while a story is told about some chap somewhere who decides to kill himself simply because his favourite team has lost.

The popularity of the sport is such that close to half the world’s population of around seven billion is expected to tune in during the World Cup, currently underway in Brazil. Indeed, other sports that are equally entertaining do not count a following that comes anywhere close to that enjoyed by ‘the beautiful game.’ 

As a result, I suspect that the significance that people attach to football is beyond it simply being an entertaining game. It is more than a game for various reasons. 

For starters, it allows us to imagine a more advanced form of social interaction. For instance, we cannot fathom a scenario where one player refuses to pass the ball to another simply because they don’t share race, class, religion, or ethnicity. 

It allows us to dream that with more effort invested in joining forces and mobilising energies for a common purpose, while pulling in the same direction, much can be achieved. 

As we watch football, we realise that this spirit is what separates the really good teams from the mediocre ones. We also observe that excellent teams have systems in place that inculcate positive values of dedication, commitment, discipline, and common vision. And that such systems nurture stable, credible, and predictable outcomes. 

We also know that anyone who shares in those attributes is engrained with such logic for success. As a result, player movements appear synchronised, with each goal scored as a result of well coordinated and anticipated movements. In other words, everything is part of the design, and little is left to chance. 

To understand football this way is to appreciate that it is more than a game. It assumes advanced civilisation in general and superior social organisation in particular. It is also the reason why a great deal was at stake when the United States of America played Iran during the 1998 World Cup in France, a match pundits called "The most politically charged game in world cup history.” 

For this reason, football is a political game. And the reason why much fuss was made during the World Cup in South Africa when one of the Ghanaian players scored a goal and celebrated while revealing an undershirt with an Israeli flag emblazoned on it. 

In Africa, football also reveals something else: the national psyche. Over the past decade or so, analysts could argue that a major problem of underdevelopment in Africa was "the crisis of confidence.” This psychological state was said to characterise its political leadership. 

This was not just in politics, it turned out. In 2006, the Stephen Keshi surprised everyone by qualifying the Togolese national team for the World Cup in Germany. However, he was immediately dismissed and replaced by a German coach, Otto Pfister, considered more prepared to perform at the world stage. 

Football also reminds us about our culture of mediocrity. This condition is manifested in our perennial failure at the world stage despite the fact that our stars often shine when playing for their respective foreign clubs. Implied is that abroad they play in systems designed to nurture success, while at home their miserable performance is due to expectations of outcomes determined by chance. 

Given that things are left to chance, therefore, one ought not to act surprised when players decide to mutiny over pay as the Togolese players did during the competition in Germany in 2006 or recently when the Cameroonian players refused to board the plane to Brazil because they considered the $82,000 bonus for every player too little, only to ‘settle’ for $104,000 after much haggling. 

More importantly, such instincts cannot be said to be a preserve of footballers alone. They are part of a wider societal value system that is built around mercenary culture. One of its major consequences is the inability to see beyond the point where one is looking. 

Football, therefore, remains important to us because it is a theatre of a tragedy that resonates close to us on the one hand, while representing hope for a future triumph of mutual solidarity, on the other. 

What is clear is that under the current conditions our raw talent will continue to seek value addition necessary to become a finished product elsewhere. With confounding nationalistic fervour or not, we shall watch and cheer loudly the national teams of France or Belgium with the likes of Blaise Matuwidi and the Romelu Lukaku.