“I’m wandering downtown in the rain searching for words to describe what I’m feeling right now. Something, anything to make sense of the loss,” is all the prose I could muster when I heard the sad news. Fortunately, many other more capable, more productive authors, activists, and scholars posted lovely tributes, although only a few highlighted Galeano’s art of fútbol writing (e.g. click here to read Dave Zirin’s eulogy in The Nation).
As I searched for the appropriate, any!, words to articulate my grief and gratitude, I thought back to when I translated a chunk of the Italian edition of Soccer in Sun and Shadow into English for Joe McGinniss, the American journalist and writer with whom I was corresponding from South Africa as he finished his book The Miracle of Castel di Sangro.
By the time I had returned to Boston to write up my PhD dissertation, the English edition had finally been published (brilliantly translated by Mark Fried) and I took to opening and closing class meetings in my Soccer and Imperialism course (sic!) with a reading from what I called “the Gospel according to Galeano.”
It’s now been four days since our fútbol bard’s passing and I’ve completely failed to find the just-exactly-right words to share with you.
So I returned to the source. Below is my favorite reading from Fútbology’s Sacred Text. Ciao Eduardo!
The Football Action Network describes itself as an “open, unbureaucratic network of football activists [in Britain] that includes supporters’ trusts, independent fan groups, fanzines, campaigners in the women’s game and advocates for grassroots football.”
David Goldblatt, one of the world’s preeminent fútbologists, writing in The Guardian, laid out the group’s manifesto to improve the game in the land of the English Premier League and beyond.From economic justice and institutional reforms to fan freedom and equality for all, this program aims to reclaim and transform football by putting people before profits.
This is the third post in Pelle Kvalsund‘s series rethinking Sport Development and Sport For Development. (Click here and here to read the previous posts.)
By Pelle Kvalsund
If you have visited sub-Saharan Africa then you know that Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) are everywhere, even in sports.
In 1999, I traveled from Norway to South Africa to work for Sports Coaches’ Outreach (SCORE). This NGO aims to create sporting opportunities for children and youth in disadvantaged urban and rural communities. The agenda was clear and the focus simple: Sport for all!
Since the pioneering days of the 1990s, thousands of new local and international sport for development organizations (S4D) began operating all around the world (partial list here). Most of these organizations feed on a broken local sport system to create, often successfully, high demand for their services. Sometimes their agendas are not clear or straight forward.
Sport NGOs are manna from heaven for Western governments and donors eager to boast about their efforts in developing civil society and reaching grassroots targets in the Global South. By offering sporting activities for boys and girls, S4D NGOs appear to have successfully “taken over” parts of the mandate for youth development usually given to local (including national) sport associations.
Backed by solid support from northern sponsors (public and private), many S4D groups have developed a strong internal organizational capacity that enables them to raise funds, submit grant proposals, market themselves, and run and evaluate activities according to the foreign aid industry’s terms and latest trends. These NGOs succeed by investing in their capacity and development. In the process, they create self-sustainable structures that go beyond their original function as “gap fillers” for outstretched African sport providers.
This process has fostered adversarial, even hostile, relationships between the NGOs and government-mandated sport bodies. Such rivalries stem from perceptions that the success of S4D NGOs stems at least in part from the sports governing bodies’ mismanagement and mistakes. In some cases, this animosity targets northern brokers who are seen to be undermining the local sport custodians’ mandates. The rivalry is rooted in struggles for material benefits, such as access to a new Land Cruiser, as much as by the fact that many NGOs and football academies are producing young footballers for sale in European and Asian markets.
Some governments and sport governing bodies have been developing strong policies and clear strategies that chart a coherent, productive direction for sport development in their countries. Chasing aid money, the NGOs often fail to align themselves with host countries’ strategic plans and begin operating in a parallel universe. This parallel universe does not only function in isolation; at times, it also produces some peculiar activities. As S4D’s agendas change because of funding levels and requirements, the sport activities they deliver also change.
Over the years, I have observed how using sport to address serious issues like AIDS, farming, sanitation, traffic safety (as well as some religious agendas) has backfired. NGOs forget (or choose to ignore) that the kids come first and foremost to play sports. They do not enjoy standing quietly in line passively listening to lengthy explanations about how to wash hands properly or safely cross the street.
Some of the S4D activities are so far removed from sport that they confuse both the boys and girls and sport development practitioners like myself. Such a wrong-headed approach has led to many youths choosing to pursue other activities and dropping out of sport all together.
What would the African and Asian sport associations (discussed in my previous post here) look like and how would they function today if northern brokers, supported by Western governments and companies, had invested the same amount of human and material capital in capacity-building and long-term development? The Norwegian Olympic and Paralympic Committee and Confederation of Sport, an umbrella organization for all national sports federations in Norway, has adopted this strategy. It will be interesting to follow its development over time.
This is the second post in Pelle Kvalsund‘s series rethinking Sport Development and Sport For Development. (Click here to read the first post.) Kvalsund is an international sport development consultant from Norway and a former athlete, coach, and physical education teacher. As a consultant for over 15 years, he has worked in many countries including Vietnam, Sri Lanka, Burundi, Zambia, and Bosnia. Pelle has served a number of international organizations, both within sport and the area of community development, and is currently an advisor for the Norwegian Olympic and Paralympic Committee and Confederation of Sport and their partners in the Global South. He is the author of “Sport as a Response to Emergencies and Disasters” in Sport, Peace and Development, edited by Keith Gilbert and Will Bennett (free download here).
There are two main camps in sport development. The first believes that sport should be governed, administered, and developed exclusively by local, national, and international sport associations. Let’s call this group “the custodians.”
The other camp believes that the custodians have failed to fulfill their mandate and, as a result, sport needs a national boost through centrally driven sport programs for both youth and adults. Let’s call this group “sport for all” (though some countries use other terms like “mass sport” and “fitness programs.”)
Many countries combine the two forms of sport development, in addition to having non-governmental sport for development organizations and private sport academies operating in selected communities and districts.
Most football associations are “custodians.” They claim absolute sovereignty in the management of football affairs even though they receive more financial support from governments than the other national sport associations. Substantial financial assistance from FIFA and from sponsors, both parastatals (e.g. national breweries) and large private companies, help solidify this position.
Now, let’s look at a typical football association’s ability of to run all aspects of the game in their respective countries. While FAs view themselves as politically sovereign in domestic football matters, they are challenged by meager economic means (despite the aforementioned subsidies) and poor organizational infrastructure. These constraints make it difficult to prioritize, for example, development in rural areas. Furthermore, state and corporate funds are often earmarked for the best male players in elite programs, while the support from FIFA goes to capacity development of, in many cases, randomly selected leaders, coaches and referees. If any funding goes to grassroots development it is usually for youth national teams or FIFA-supported Football for Hope or similar corporate social responsibility initiatives.
Zambia, which won its first African Cup of Nations crown in 2012, is a case in point. The continental title was a great achievement, one that can be attributed to both historical factors (for the ones who know the history!) and a productive mix of talented young players, professional coaching staff, and capable leaders. It can also be attributed to a short systematic youth development approach put in place by Kalusha Bwalya, President of the Football Association of Zambia (FAZ). After pursuing his coaching training in the Netherlands, the former PSV Eindhoven and Zambia striker returned to Zambia in the early 2000s and became national technical director supervising a strong staff of coaches.
In spite of FAZ’s successful grooming of a few individual stars, the national football system in Zambia appears quite bare in terms of organized youth development. With over 46% of the population below age 15 (5th youngest in the world in 2013) and about 2 million youth between the ages of 15-24 (according to NationMaster data [January 17, 2015]), one might assume Zambian coaches would have a rich supply of skilled footballers to tap into enabling them to produce consistent good results for national team. But that has not been the case.
Into this development vacuum stepped both private football academies and local NGOs that organize sport as a tool for development. It is these organizations that train many of the players that end up representing Zambia’s top teams. While this is evidence that some of these academies and NGOs have been doing a satisfactory job creating opportunities for play and fostering talents, it also indicates that control and power to secure quality coaches, and to ensure players’ personal safety and development is out of the hands of the FAZ.
I don’t want to be overly critical of Zambian football because I know after many years of living in Zambia that FAZ and other national sport associations face numerous daunting tasks: from financing and operating capacity-building programs for coaches to managing myriad of leagues and tournaments for all the teams and clubs that train and develop players. It would, however, be interesting and worthwhile for them and other sport associations to assess their mandate and reexamine their approach to youth sport development.
Together with a few international sport federations’ development programs, a contingent of Western governments (unfortunately, a decreasing number) continue to support both sport development and sport for development initiatives in Africa. One of the dilemmas these governments face is: How do you provide assistance? Do you work with dysfunctional sport associations (“custodians”) in organizational capacity development so that they will eventually be able to run efficient youth sport for the masses? Or do you continue supporting government-driven and NGO-run sport-for-all programs that attempt to fill the gaps in the mandate left by the associations?
National Stadium, Monrovia, 2007. Courtesy of Pelle Kvalsund.
Football is Coming Home is pleased to welcome Pelle Kvalsund for a new series on the field of sport development. How can we develop regular long-term sport opportunities for a youth population that is predicted to double in the next thirty years? How do we ensure that the services produced for these athletes are of quality and value so that we can retain both athletes and coaches? This first post outlines some of the main institutional and economic challenges.
By Pelle Kvalsund
Pelle Kvalsund, international sport development consultant, is a former athlete, coach, and physical education teacher from Norway. As a consultant for over 15 years, he has worked in many countries including Vietnam, Sri Lanka, Burundi, Zambia, and Bosnia. Pelle has served a number of international organizations, both within sport and the area of community development, and is currently an advisor for the Norwegian Olympic and Paralympic Committee and Confederation of Sport and their partners in the global south. He is the author of “Sport as a Response to Emergencies and Disasters” in Sport, Peace and Development, edited by Keith Gilbert and Will Bennett (free download here).
I’m at the National Stadium in Monrovia, Liberia, in 2007, watching a women’s international football match between the host nation and Nigeria. The stadium is jam-packed with fans and UN peacekeepers. It ends 1-1. A fair result from my perspective as a neutral observer, but not for the home fans. A riot breaks out. The crowd storms the pitch and the UN peacekeepers fire teargas to save the unfortunate referee from the mob.
There is a lot to be said about this rowdy incident, but above all else it illustrates the extraordinary popularity of football and the social importance of sport, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa and other parts of the world where resources are scarce and life is generally challenging and unstable.
And it is precisely sport’s cultural significance that provides those of us working in sport development with a foundation on which to build sport programs that offer positive activities and outlets for many children and youth.
Let me start by doing something that I hate doing, but have become quite good at: identifying a stereotype. I do this to present a general image of the field of sport development in the Global South (though it applies to parts of global north too).
Such a country boasts a Ministry of Sport, which is paired with the Ministry of Youth or the Ministry of Education. The department of sport is of very high personal and political interest within government circles due to the widespread popularity of sports in society (particularly football), but the same interest is not reflected in the budget allocations. Most of the sport budget is used to pay the government employees (directly and by extension) and to maintain their status. Some of the money pays for upkeep of facilities and the participation of national teams in international competitions. Most of the remaining funds find their way to the national football association, while only a symbolic sum goes to athletics, basketball, volleyball, and other sports with athletes capable of winning a medal for the country on the global stage.
Administratively, the country has a national sport council or commission (the extension mentioned above) mandated to roll out government policies, distribute government funds, provide logistical support for major competitions, and govern and support the associations. A national Olympic committee bring selected athletes to the Olympic Games every four years. In addition, it has the financial ability to support elite athlete development and organizational capacity building through a central program called Olympic Solidarity.
Each sport also has a national association that generally consists of an “elected” board and president, and a general secretary. The president makes the important decisions and the general secretary does the work. There is no office. The association’s documentary records are tucked away in a briefcase or (if lucky) in the general secretary’s laptop. The associations run their operations according to a calendar of events.
There is no long-term plan, just day-to-day survival. Money is impossibly scarce and there is neither sufficient equipment nor adequate facilities. Instead of a youth development plan, potential athletes are recruited from a few well-endowed schools that host inter-scholastic sport competitions once or twice a year. In the case of football, private academies and sport and development NGOs of varying size and quality also train young boys. (Girls are rarely included in these programs.)
This stereotype of how sport is organized and run in a country of the Global South should help to better understand the stark challenges before us and how they shape the multiple and diverse attempts and approaches used to develop sport in poorer regions of the world. In the blog posts that follow, I intend to share reflections based on my experiences in Africa and beyond to spark a dialogue with readers about the differences between “Sport Development” and “Sport For Development” and why these matter. I look forward to the conversation.
For a quarter century Chuck Blazer was the most powerful soccer administrator in the United States and CONCACAF. He was a member of the FIFA Executive Committee from 1996 to 2013. Investigative journalist Andrew Jennings revealed in 2011 that Blazer was under FBI investigation for tax evasion. Thanks to a devastating, detailed report by The New York Daily News published this weekend, we now also know that Blazer became an FBI informant. (Click here for full text.)
In doing so, U.S. authorities sought to gain “a rare window into the shadowy financing of international soccer, a world notorious for its corruption and lavish excess,” the Daily News reports.
Blazer’s debauchery is legendary, as this blog has highlighted in the past. But the Daily News presented new evidence documenting how he “failed to pay income taxes for more than a decade while hauling in tens of millions of dollars, a discovery the feds used to threaten him with prosecution and convert him into a cooperating witness.” The newspaper provides fresh evidence of Blazer’s misallocation of funds and misuse of assets belonging to CONCACAF. He went so far as to run up $29 million in credit card charges. Damning proof, it is alleged, that Blazer was “intoxicated by power and cash.”
The 69-year-old soccer official, now dying of colon cancer, “lived like there was no tomorrow,” emboldened by global football administration’s modus operandi—one that makes “you feel like you’re the king of the world,” one source told the Daily News; “And it’s all for soccer.”
*** Addendum (11/6/2014): Listen to “Beyond The Pitch” podcast “dissect and tell the story behind the tale that is titled Mister Ten Percent, Chuck Blazer, a lengthy piece that digs deep into his background and explains how a soccer dad from New York rose to the dizzying heights of world football royalty, how he climbed the ladder armed with ambition and ingenuity and what led to his fall as fresh reports in New York media suggest that he is now cooperating with federal authorities.”
Just two days after former 800m world champion Mbulaeni Mulaudzi died in a car crash, South Africa mourns the death of another sport celebrity. 27-year-old Senzo Meyiwa, captain of Orlando Pirates and South Africa, was shot and killed on Sunday evening during a robber at his partner’s home in Vosloruus, East Rand.
According to initial reports, two armed men entered the home of actress and singer Kelly Khumalo and demanded cash, cell phones, and valuables from seven people. An altercation ensued and one of the assailants shot Meyiwa once in the chest. The player was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.
Tsepo Masilela, a Bafana Bafana teammate of Meyiwa’s, seemed to capture the shock of many when he tweeted: “How do you kill someone for a cellphone?”
The South African Police Service (@SAPoliceService) offered a R150,000 reward for information leading to an arrest.
Chris Thurman, an academic and editor of Sport versus Art, summed up the horrible past days for sport in South Africa via Twitter: “RIP Mbulaeni Mulaudzi & Senzo Meyiwa. Men who offered South Africans two of the best features of our story, struck down by two of the worst.”