Beauty hard to find in Banyana’s beastly Wafcon crash

The beautiful game? Not at Stade Larbi Zaouli in Casablanca on Tuesday, when South Africa’s dream of defending their 2022 women’s Africa Cup of Nations triumph was dashed. Indeed, Banyana Banyana’s 2-1 semifinal loss to Nigeria often veered towards the opposite: ugly.

“It’s sad, but I guess that’s God’s will,” a crushed Hildah Magaia, the striker who scored both goals in the final against Morocco in Rabat two years ago, said afterwards. “Nigeria had the upper hand early in the game and they managed to score first, but we were unlucky.”

And how. Having emerged unscathed from a fearsome and sustained assault for much of the first quarter — when goalkeeper Andile Dlamini saved two attempts and another was blocked by the defence — Banyana found their way not only back into the game but frequently to within striking distance.

They had the better of the match, enjoying more than half the possession and winning most of the squabbles for the ball on the ground. But only three of their nine shots at goal were on target, compared to their opponents’ seven of nine.

Too often, both sides’ striving started with an attractive inventiveness built on admirable ambition. Until it was rendered plain. Or just plain ugly.

There was nothing beautiful about defender Bambanani Mbane’s handball as she went to ground in desperate defence in the box in the 44th. Midfielder Rasheedat Ajibade’s resultant penalty had Dlamini punching the pitch in passionate frustration at having dived the right way — to her left — and coming within the thickness of a shinguard of pulling off what would have been a shimmering save.

A distinct lack of beauty was again evident in the 56th, when defender Osinachi Ohale poleaxed Magaia in the area. Midfielder Linda Motlhalo coolly found the lefthand corner of the net from the spot.

In the 73rd, forward Jermaine Seoposenwe whipped a cross that found midfielder Noxolo Cesane, who loomed in splendid isolation with the goal gaping. All Cesane needed to do to beat previously unbeaten goalkeeper Chiamaka Nnadozie was make solid enough contact.

Cesane scuffed her strike, which trickled meekly towards the line. Before Motlhalo’s penalty Nnadozie had kept four clean sheets, maybe because she had to make only two saves in the 404 minutes of football she had played in the tournament. This time Nnadozie sat on the ball in ungainly fashion and kept it out.

Then, in the 84th, came the ugliest moment of all. The Nigerians shovelled the ball into South Africa’s area, and in the chaos Gabby Salgado crashed to earth and bellowed in pain. Whether she had made contact with any other player wasn’t clear. What was clear was that she was in serious physical trouble. 

Almost all the other players on the pitch took a startled look at Salgado and fled, some with hands or jerseys held over their faces, in alarm that would soon translate into tears. Of the South Africans only Refiloe Jane, Banyana’s captain, stayed with the stricken player.

Play paused for four minutes before Salgado was stretchered off, her left leg completely covered in what looked from a distance like a sturdy brace. Nigeria’s fans, maybe the most one-eyed in the game, saluted her: “Salgado! Salgado! Salgado!”

“To see a broken shin on the field, knowing it can happen to me, was very sad,” Ajibade said at her post-match press conference. On Wednesday the South African Football Association said Salgado had “sustained a fracture of the mid-shaft of her left leg” and that she would be out of action for the rest of the year.

It was heartbreaking. You could tell from the reaction of the players that it was something that should never have happened. So we weren’t able to get back to playing again very soon. We were not in good shape. And I think the last goal Nigeria scored was because we lost concentration.

—  Lebohang Ramalepe

Six minutes after play resumed, defender Michelle Alozie aimed an entirely speculative, long range left-footed effort in the general direction of Banyana’s goal. The ball looked like an absent-minded bee on an unguided tour of a flower patch as it wobbled through throngs and passed players, defenders and attackers alike.

And then it stung, trickling almost apologetically beyond Dlamini and across the line. If an uglier goal has yet been scored, it should have come with a health warning.

For a long moment, it seemed as if Banyana’s players didn’t register that they had fallen behind. There was no getting beyond Salgado’s cruel fate. Five minutes later the ordeal was over and South Africa were eliminated.

“It was heartbreaking,” Lebohang Ramalepe said of the impact of Salgado’s injury on the team. “You could tell from the reaction of the players that it was something that should never have happened.

“So we weren’t able to get back to playing again very soon. We were not in good shape. And I think the last goal Nigeria scored was because we lost concentration.”

Desiree Ellis is tough, but her eyes were also wet with tears on the sidelines. Then she had to go and explain it all at the press conference.

Nigeria’s media-accredited fan contingent — it would be an insult to journalism to call them reporters — tried to get her to agree that the Super Falcons were Banyana’s bogey opponents, that her team were monstered on the day, that they were more interested in forcing the match to penalties than trying to win properly.

Ellis resisted these spurious fictions with impressive restraint, her tone never rising to shrill but staying sharp enough to make it clear she was not there to listen to such utter nonsense.

Not only that, Ellis had to put up with a faulty microphone that meant she was frequently forced to pick up a thought from where the mic had cut out.

Not once did she restart a sentence. Every time, and there were many, she seamlessly slid straight back to the exact point where she had been interrupted. And she made perfect sense as she did so with an object lesson in how to handle a room filled mostly with muppets.

We can tell you all this because the only two South African reporters covering the tournament had to muscle their way past security and have a stand-up shouting match with Caf’s bumptious, incompetent officials simply to make it into the press conference room.

Nerves were still raw when Ellis sat down behind that malfunctioning mic. She might have used it as an excuse to abandon the unpleasant experience and attend to the exponentially more important duty of looking after her shattered players. She didn’t. She saw the nastiness through with unshakeable determination.

It wasn’t pretty. It was beautiful.