If you think the stuff that often goes on, on the pitch, such as a referee making a wrong call or the fans booing their own team's player or a striker missing an open net in the dying minutes of the game, is dramatic or controversial or hard to believe, then wait until you hear about some of the things that happen behind the scenes at the different clubs. This is usually the kind of drama no one wants you to know about. It will leave your jaw on the floor. And thank God for platforms such as this page, where players, past and present, are given the free rein to let readers and football lovers in on these, whilst adding a touch of humour to their narration. The story that former striker Alois Bunjira shares this week, from his time at Mamelodi Sundowns, is one such example. How is it that a player's relationship with a technical director, of all people, goes south not long after the latter's appointment? Best you read on!
Heita, "Gazza"! It seems every time you make an appearance in Soccer Laduma, you set these pages on fire, and we know the story you are about to share this week is a cracker. Eventually we'll learn about how you left Mamelodi Sundowns. Take it away.
So, it was towards the end of the season at Sundowns. On that particular week, we were off to play against Cameroonian club Coton Sport of Garoua, in the final knockout round of the CAF Champions League, before the group stages. The match was taking place in the city of Garoua. I had mildly pulled my hamstring in the previous match and the doctor told me to take it easy at training. That Tuesday at training, we were introduced to Argentinian coach Oscar Fullone as our technical advisor for the trip to Cameroon, to assist caretaker coach Roger Feutmba. After training, the team that was traveling to Cameroon was announced. We had only about 16 registered players available as we had so many injuries. My name was on the list of the players who were traveling. I went to the team manager Peter Koutroulis, afterwards, and pleaded that I be dropped from the travelling party because my hamstring was still sore and not yet healed. He made consultations with the coaches and the technical director. They all refused to drop me saying we wouldn't travel with very few players, and besides, there was a possibility that I would have healed by the time we played on the Sunday. Reluctantly, I agreed to travel.
Hmmm…
The other reason I also didn't want to travel was the traveling arrangements. I had looked at the map and saw that Garoua was right at some little corner of Cameroon, which was regarded as the hottest part of that country. That meant we were going to catch a domestic flight from Yaoundé to Garoua. I imagined the type of plane we would use in Cameroon to connect to Garoua. I knew African domestic flights were really bad, from my experience playing for the Zimbabwe national teams, across Africa. Most of these domestic planes were rundown little aeroplanes. I had seen my injury as a way to book out of that trip. Ha, ha, ha, it was foiled, as the coaches insisted I travelled, injured as I was. Little did I know that was the beginning of my troubles at Mamelodi Sundowns....
What do you mean?
The following day, we flew to Cameroon from Johannesburg. Like I said, I think we were just about 16 players who travelled. We connected to Garoua as soon as we landed in Yaoundé. To my pleasant surprise, the plane to Garoua was a bit big, the size of our Air Zimbabwe Jongwe Boeing 737. On landing in Garoua, we were greeted by the massive heatwave. The temperature must have been over 40 degrees. We were sweating all over! To make matters worse, we were taken to an old lodge that had rooms and beds resembling a boarding school, with no air conditioning. Eish, welcome to West Africa! The following morning, we went to training. I sat out the training session, saying I was injured. The guys did Rondos, to mostly loosen up. When things, good or bad, are about to happen, things just start happening seamlessly. The next day at training, which was the Friday, and probably our last serious training session, we were doing these attacking and defending drills, where all the attackers would be playing and attacking the defenders, in one half. I was put wide on the right as an attacker. God behold, my hamstring was miraculously quiet, as if I was not injured at all. This didn't really switch on in my mind, until I got possession of the ball. In true Alois Bunjira style, because I wasn't feeling any pain, the first instinct was to run at the defender with the ball, to take him on. I went in that usual "Gazza" full speed, shimmied, and waltzed past the left back – I don't really remember if it was Marco Mthembu. I delivered a cross. We went back to our positions to restart the move. The second time I got the ball, I went again straight at the defender, knocked the ball past the defender, took off, and delivered another cross. The new "Technical Director", Fullone, who was sitting on the bench outside, immediately got up, came onto the field and started talking to the coach, Feutmba. They called me immediately.
Things are about to get interesting now, for sure, ha, ha, ha.
When I got there, Fullone asked, "What's your name again?" I told him my name. And he went on, "But you said you were injured and the coaches decided not to include you in the team. Why are you speeding like that, with a hamstring? You want to make it worse? Or you are not injured at all?" I said, "Yes, I am injured, coach." The two coaches burst out laughing. Then, suddenly, Fullone's face changed and I could see he was angry. Then he said, "Why were you lying and pretending that you were injured? You are not injured." He shook his head and said, "Go back to your position." I jogged back to my position, and this time I was now aware of the situation. I played simple football until the session finished. Man, Fullone was p***ed off with me. On the Sunday morning, the team was selected and I was ordered to get kitted out and be on the bench. It was hot as hell. We had drawn the first leg 1-1 in Pretoria. But this time, by halftime we were losing 3-0. When we conceded the fourth goal, I was sent out to warm up. I obliged and went to warm up. But until the final whistle, I was still warming up, ha, ha, ha.
It must have been some form of punishment for 'faking an injury'!
We lost the match 4-0 and got knocked out. That evening, at the lodge pub, there was a reception for us and Coton Sport. After dinner, we went there to enjoy drinks. You know I am not really a nightlife person. After about an hour, I told Sashi Chalwe, who was my roommate and best friend a Sundowns, that I was leaving the pub to go watch TV at the lodge. Sashi decided to come with me. We took our drinks with us. When we got to the lodge entrance, we saw these two girls, who were twins, sitting there by the entrance. We greeted them and Sashi asked why they were sitting by the entrance, not at the pub. They said they were waiting for their aunt, one of the managers at the lodge, who was inside. Right in the middle of that conversation, Fullone appeared from the pub. He greeted all of us at once, then looked at me and said, "So, that is why you didn't want to play?", and he went straight inside. I didn't know what he was trying to say, but at that moment I said to Sashi, "Bro, let's go sleep." I was now feeling stressed, as I could smell the bad chemistry. I went straight to the room which I was sharing with Sashi. He stayed behind as I went to bed. Ha! Sashi! Naughty boy! Story for another day, ha, ha, ha.
A defender making a late run into the box! Sashi, we see you, ha, ha, ha. Sure, go on…
The next day, we went to the airport in the morning. We waited for almost eight hours for the plane to arrive. Luckily enough, our connecting flight from Yaoundé was in the evening. As we waited for the plane, which was presumably delayed, we were told by other passengers that the airline, which was picking us up from Mali, was nicknamed "Maybe Airlines" because "maybe it comes, maybe it doesn't come". Sometimes it wouldn't show up, nje, especially if there were not enough passengers in Garoua, and would fly straight to Yaoundé, ha, ha, ha. Luckily enough, we were a whole team and were assured that the "Maybe Airline" would come. It eventually came. It took us to Yaoundé, then we connected into Ghana Airways to Accra, where we connected with SAA to Johannesburg. Fullone jumped off in Ghana and connected to Ivory Coast, where he was working. That was the last time we saw him, until the beginning of the next season, for pre-season in KwaZulu-Natal, where the wheels started falling off.
Geez, that was hectic. But it gets more hectic, as our readers will find out next week.
Yes, it certainly does.
By Lunga Adam
