Chipolopolo Chipolopolo!

 courtesy Arab News

 
Editor’s note: this is a short interlude before part IV of my summer 2011 travels

Readers who don’t like football, bear with me: this is meant to be a short, poignant piece, where I attempt to put a few things ‘in perspective’.

First, a disclaimer: though I’ve hinted in the past that I’ve been building up a reservoir of pet hates that I eventually want to post (the list is well over 100), I think I’ve long lost the impetus to whittle it down and share it. I think it would bore more people than my blabbering about the 2010 World Cup on the Layman’s Guide (mercifully, I’m not going to provide a link to any of that drivel).

But one of my top 10 pet hates is the clichéd expression ‘it really puts things in perspective’. Anytime I hear that, I want to groan and stab the person in the throat with a fork. Just to hurt them, mind, not to kill.

This phrase, more than any other perhaps, really seemed to come into being post 9/11. And yes, I understand and respect that an event of such magnitude will lead people to view things in a different way, and to be thankful for many things, but I just find it such a trite, lazy phrase that deserves to be consigned to the dust-bin of painful clichés.

But what the hell, I’m going to use it one last time because I feel like being trite and lazy. Besides, at least I’m consistent: I often contradict myself on these pages. Call me a hypocrite, I don’t care! You’re right!

Here we go then: a magical sporting moment that put things in perspective

Yesterday Zambia won the African Cup of Nations, defeating the Ivory Coast 8-7 on penalties after an enthralling 0-0 match (no oxymoron, and no sarcasm at all: 0-0 matches can indeed be riveting affairs, and this was one of them). And before I continue, let’s go back a week.

This time one week ago, I was a combination of mopey, angry, annoyed, frustrated, perplexed…pick your adjective, I was all over the place. This time four years ago, I felt the same. Talk about déjà vu.

I’ll spell this out in layman’s terms since the vast majority of my readers may not know what I’m talking about: The New England Patriots lost the Super Bowl (the American football championship) to the New York Giants. It was an agonizing defeat. I won’t go into any details, other than to say everything that could have gone wrong for the Patriots – balls bouncing in funny directions, inexplicable dropped passes, odd penalties, miracle plays for the other team – did. And they lost in the final seconds in a game they could have and should have won.

Four years ago, the same thing happened. Against the same damn team. And the same damn inexplicable events. Have a look here for what many people call the most unbelievable, miraculous play in Super Bowl history (I still watch it over and over hoping the outcome will be different):

The Helmet Catch

I spent most of last week over-analysing the game, reading articles, listening to sports talk radio, watching replays, looking at every possible factor that contributed to the loss.

Why and how does sport do this to us? How the hell does this loss affect my life? Why should I care? It’s inexplicable, really. It makes no impact on my life. They win, I’m happy for a day or two, and then life goes on. They lose, I mull it over for a few days, then get over it and move on. (Or do I?)

In such a context, let’s face it: sport doesn’t mean all that much. Approximately 111 million (around 35%) Americans (population 300 million) tuned in to watch all or part of the game. However, a good chunk of them were only watching for the adverts (big business for the Super Bowl, companies paid $3.5 million for a 30 second ad this year) and another chunk were roped along to Super Bowl parties, and then there were plenty only interested in Madonna’s halftime act.

But in Zambia’s case, we’re talking about a care-rate of 100%. It’s a good bet that all 13 million of the country’s people were eagerly watching, in most cases praying for victory. Like much of the world, Africans love their football, and millions watch the African Cup of Nations every 2 years, perhaps even more so than watch the World Cup. To say this is massive would be an understatement.

But what do I care about Zambia winning this? How on earth does this ‘put anything in perspective’? (as another disclaimer I should add that I’ve always had a very soft spot for Zambia since my ex-girlfriend Joan was from there.)

We have to go back to 28 April 1993 where it all began. On that date, all but one of Zambia’s football team were killed in an air crash within minutes of takeoff from Libreville, Gabon en route to a World Cup qualifier in Senegal (the only survivor, the captain Kalusha Bwalya, was making his own way to the match from Europe). Sport has been full of tragedies over the years. To name just a few: the 1958 Manchester United Munich air crash; the 1970 Marshall University air crash that killed 37 members of the football team; the 1972 Munich Olympics and the 11 Israeli athletes that were killed; Heysel in 1985 and Hillsborough in 1989, both involving Liverpool; last year’s Jaroslavl ice hockey air crash that wiped out the entire team; and the football riots in Egypt just last week where nearly 80 people were killed.  

Amazingly, after the crash, Zambia was able to get together another team which came amazingly close to qualifying for the 1994 World Cup, missing out by just a point in qualifying.

Fast forward 19 years later, to yesterday’s final, which was played, fittingly, in Libreville. It was Zambia’s first time back in Libreville since that fateful moment. And they defied the odds to get there. When the draw was made, the only way they would play a match in Libreville (the tournament was co-hosted by Gabon and Equatorial Guinea) was by reaching the final. Along the way, they’d have to beat more highly-touted teams like Equatorial Guinea (beating the hosts is never easy), Senegal and Ghana, along with pre-tournament favourites Ivory Coast. No one gave them much of a chance. This is a team with almost all of its players plying their trade at home, with one or two playing in Switzerland, China and DR Congo. Ivory Coast’s players all hail from Europe, and feature some of the world’s best, most highly-paid players. The same is true for Ghana and Senegal. Ghana and Ivory Coast are big-name teams. In stark contrast, Zambia are far from a powerhouse in African football and had never won the Cup of Nations, nor have they qualified for a World Cup.

Until yesterday. In a dramatic penalty shootout, with all the pressure on the Ivory Coast (they lost the final in similar fashion in 2006 and were heavily fancied to win it this year), plucky Zambia held their nerve and pulled through. In regular time, Didier Drogba missed a 70^th minute penalty. And in the shootout, Kolo Toure and Gervinho missed their kicks to hand victory to Zambia. And these three players, who represent respectively Chelsea, Manchester City and Arsenal, are among the highest-paid in the world. Sometimes life is actually fair.

Before the match, the Zambia players had visited the site of the plane crash and paid tribute to the 18 who lost their lives. And though no one was audacious enough to predict victory beforehand, they did say that they’d be playing the match in their honour. Naturally, the victory was dedicated to them, and Zambia declared today a national holiday.

It was truly an inspiring, uplifting story, and I admit that I my eyes were tearing up as Zambia celebrated. I don’t even know if I’m doing the story proper justice here, but I highly recommend having a look at this article, by one of the finest football writers on the planet, Jonathan Wilson.

Just a few excerpts that ought to highlight the magnitude of this victory and what it means to the country and players:

‘…the ultimate underdog story, the triumph of the human spirit, won over home fans who might have been expected to be hostile…this was an event that went beyond partisanship, beyond Zambia's usual virtues of discipline, organisation and pace. This was something that went beyond sport: it was about a nation coming together to fulfil a dream…when Bwalya appeared on the running track after the final penalty, every green-shirted player raced straight over. As [coach Herve] Renard said, nobody knew what the victory meant more than him…Renard, a stern father of a coach, had discussed the possibilities of the draw when he gathered his squad together on December 28. "I said to the players, 'You know we play first against Senegal and the plane was going to Senegal, and the final is in Libreville, where the plane was leaving from.' I can't explain it: it was written.''

There are plenty who disparage sport and in so many ways, the slavish, rabid devotion of fans borders on the absurd. People kill each other over this, and the money and corruption involved is mind-boggling and enough to put anyone off the ridiculous spectacle it has become. But at moments like this, sport can be healing and cathartic, and can bring a nation together in joyous rhapsody, in ecstatic rapture. It can go a long way to erasing the painful, tragic memories of the past. And it can provide the neutrals around the world with a poignant, heart-warming moment that goes some way to restoring our faith in the standards of sporting humanity, the drive of the human spirit that can will the biggest, most unlikely underdogs to victory. There’s not a neutral football fan on earth that isn’t happy about Zambia’s win.

I, for one, have just about forgotten the Patriots devastating loss. Even just using the word ‘devastating’ seems wrong. I’d hardly call it devastating.

What happened in 1993 certainly was. What happened yesterday was enthralling.



Further update - for more on this, check out the Economist's Baobab blog piece.