Nutmeg Radio

Africa has some of the best footballers in the world dominating some of the world’s best leagues.  Yet African nations tend to struggle when their players come together for internationals.  What gives?  The easy answer to this conundrum almost always begins and ends with what has become a familiar refrain; African football lacks discipline. But if that’s the case, someone needs to explain why African teams have dominated for years at the youth level. Consistently beating the best footballing nations must require a certain level of organization and discipline even at the youth level, no?  Surely the answer to this age old problem is more complex than discipline.

We talk about their football in Africa in an almost infantile way. The need for discipline is always the answer and is a characterization that extends beyond the pitch into African governance, development, and almost every other African industry. While there are plenty of examples suggesting that institutional discipline is needed in many areas, perhaps there is some nuance that is repeatedly going missing – less so in academic discussions, but certainly outside of academia, and particularly in football.

Perhaps our issue is that we always seem to look for one style to fit all.  Systems of play and styles that are suited to one team may be difficult for another team to grasp, even if the respective players have similar traits. African teams shouldn’t think that they have to emulate someone else’s style in order to succeed.  Such behavior may just continue to be a recipe for mediocrity regardless of the caliber of player.

Let me suggest that there’s another way to look at things. Perhaps it’s cultural.  Perhaps a footballing philosophy originating in a particular country succeeds when the philosophy has a relationship to that country’s way of life.  Maybe the liberal Total Football of the Cryuff-era Dutch sides worked for Holland because the philosophy matched a national culture.  Perhaps there is something to say about the successful Brazilian sides tapping into a formula that fuses a samba flavor with tactics.  This, of course, doesn’t mean that a team might not be able to win with an alternative style (e.g. Dunga’s Brazilian sides), but rather that a side’s most beautiful and efficient form may arise when players can relate to a style of play on an existential level.

The 1994 Nigerian World Cup side had a swagger that was authentically African, that matched their players, even though they were coached by Dutch national Clemens Westerhof.  Nigeria looked fantastic in ’94 when they played their style of football until Westerhof decided to play defensive, which wasn’t a style that suited the Super Eagles.  I remember yelling at the television when Westerhof withdrew a striker for a midfielder.  Up until that point, Nigeria was confidently dancing circles around the favored Italians, mesmerizing viewers along the way.

Sensing a shift in soccer is sometimes inexplicable; you just feel it happen.  But sometimes, it’s perfectly explicable, like when an attacking team inexplicably decides to turn defensive in the knock out stage of the World Cup against a Baggio-led Italian side.  It’s just like watching Arsenal when they sit back and defend.  You just know how the story is likely to end. Teams built to attack should attack.  The park the bus approach should be left to teams constructed to defend and teams coached by Jose Mourinho.

Style is a funny thing.  It always looks good from afar, but often what looks good on the outside, feels very uncomfortable on the inside. African football may not need discipline.  It might just need a tailor to create  a custom design for its frame.

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