It is hard to internalise the fact that Bafana legend John "Shoes" Moshoeu is gone, because he was such an ageless presence. He was a Peter Pan - a defiantly agile and sharp-witted star for Kaizer Chiefs, even into his 40s. He was still, technically, an active pro for Alexandra United last year at the age of 48.We expected Shoes to bamboozle cancer with a crafty one-two, to send it stumbling with a bullfighter's feint. He could not .I never met Shoes. I started writing about football just as his top-flight career was winding down. But his brilliance in the early 1990s made me want to be a sports writer. Like Doctor Khumalo and Lucas Radebe, he made us believe in the nation's football.At the time, we feared that footballers from the mythical north were made of a superior material to our own players.That feeling has returned quite often in recent times .But when Shoes put his foot on the ball, and danced into the box, our chests filled with pride and self-confidence.There were umpteen classic Shoes moments at the 1996 Africa Cup of Nations. The first was that one-two with Phil Masinga against Cameroon in the opening clash.Bafana were two goals up at the time; many of his teammates would have been happy to fanny around till the final whistle, but Shoes - his tactical chops galvanised by the intensity of the Turkish league - cracked on. He knew that a definitive victory would psychologically bolster the team.He virtually danced the ball into the net.Then there was that ballistic missile he fired from outside the box against Algeria. And that regal overhead kick against Ghana in the semifinal. Shoes did not score very often, but when he did it was a thing of almost ridiculous wonder.Perhaps the biggest example of this was his swerving, curving 30-metre effort for Fenerbahce against Besiktas in 1998.Millions of Turks are mourning his death this week.Shoes' Turkish career was a lesson in persistence. He started at the mid-table Ankara side Genclerbigli, shone for a season, bagged a move to the stronger Kocaelispor, sparkled for two seasons, then got a big cheque when he signed with Istanbul giants Fenerbahce, before finally starring in the Champions League.Unlike so many young South African talents abroad, Shoes immersed himself in the deeply different culture he found himself in. He imposed himself. The sum of him was greater than his individual parts.Shoes was quick, but nowhere as quick as Helman Mkhalele or Radebe. He was good at passing, but he was not Doctor Khumalo. He was a tidy dribbler, but he could not beat a defender with the ease of Jabu Pule. He was slight, of average height, and struggled to win tackles.But what Shoes had, in excess, was smarts and style. His charisma won him admirers all over Africa.A Ghanaian writer noted this week that on every Accra or Kumasi playground in the late 1990s , a kid chose to call himself "Shoes".Critically, Shoes had the will to make his insight visible: to inscribe it across continents. His example helped us believe in the promise of freedom, in the promise of ourselves...