I have found it unbelievable that we failed to make money from determining results of football matches, something that we did so successfully for many years. Forgive my incoherent instalment, it’s all because of my anger at my wasted potential.
Just a few years ago there was talk of Asiagate and now Limpopogate as some paper has called it, scandals where a lot of money is involved. I am keenly following this scandal as it is unravelled since it could inspire me into tapping more into my potential in future in other areas since my influence in football is limited to non-existent.
You see, many years ago(to borrow uMzo’s expression for good effect) we would play our stuffed plastic soccer balls, and sometimes the odd proper ball belonging to a child of some rich parents in the neighbourhood. There was an unwritten rule that the team with the owner of the ball was never supposed to lose a match.
Even where the opposing team scored, the unofficial referee would go and stand next to the two stones representing goal posts, stretch his hand upwards and declare that the ball was an “over bar” after signalling that the ball flew above his imaginary cross bar! This worked so well in managing the temper of the owner of the ball who could call off the game anytime, especially if he disagreed with a decision or if he was tackled badly.
I am feeling very creative this week, in a jumbled sort of way though. I could write a book, titled The day losing turned to winning, a miracle turnaround story or better still a motivational bestseller, Turning losses into personal victories! These could even be adapted for film. Let me not get carried away, but the point is, with gaming shops around every corner in towns now, the owners are definitely making money out of the poor guys’ losses, and sometimes even the losses of soccer teams.
I really intended to steer clear of the so-called match-fixing scandals since I failed to make the most of my position when we played in the dusty streets. However, I must say I am disappointed by our filmmakers who have not seized on the opportunity presented by the countless scandals to turn adversity into profit.
Many years down the line we are yet to get a single film on Asiagate, or even a comic strip on the art of throwing matches. I will be approaching Baya with a proposal that he cannot turn down. The script is before the nation right now and what remains is to put it in writing.
We need to celebrate our heroes and heroines too, using all forms of art. For instance we could have “The Return of Henrietta” in a blockbuster investigative movie that appreciates her role in busting match fixing across the continent, oh, even internationally! I am also thinking of a title like ‘Deals, Diski and Dough’, but I am sure Baya will help refine these ideas into something that will draw people to our cinema houses.
Staying with matters current, Fungisai has gracefully graced the social media of late in all forms. No doubt though, the once shy gospel artist with a signature moan in her songs( more like Tuku’s cough that he has, however, retired) has shaken the music industry with her entry into dancehall. Enjoy the publicity Sista (or is it Empress Fungy).
From what I heard this week, she is still in the game and she does not want to be shackled to any genre but float freely and transcend generational artistic obstacles. She remains our faithful-to-the-gospel girl, and please leave her alone as she explores the fashion scene.
It’s a free country.
I could offer to be one of her bouncers, you know, seeing that the religious arena is under siege on a number of fronts, spiritual and physical included.
Bar talk this week hovered around many subjects but settled for a while on the growing lack of respect in our society, with uMzo even complaining that coffin sellers were now ambushing bereaved relatives next to mortuaries.
Though I concurred with him, I also, with the same breath felt any marketer worth their salt should start accosting places of worship with protective gear. You could even brand these!
In Harare there is a well known church in a western suburb where fists always fly, Bulawayo had its own in Lobengula area but now Cowdray Park has joined as police had to be called into church to separate feuding parties.
Not to be outdone, a city centre church has also followed suit as members won’t accept a new maiguru.
Could it be the spirit of Bruce Lee, that adored fighter that used to be shown at the building . . . time will tell.
Let us pray harder, I urge.