AUF WIEDERSEN DE JONGH!

My dearest readers ... Since the first day I met and talked to Sihlangu Dutch coach, Pieter De Jongh on Tuesday, March 21 at Sigwaca House when he was introduced to the members of the Fourth Estate, I could sense that the matrimony with the National Football Association of Swaziland (NFAS) will struggle to have harmony as its companion.

Fortune-telling is not my forte. Match-making is not my game but I am certain that the marriage in possession will not last longer than an Orlando Pirates Football Club lead during a match.
From the moment NFAS president, Adam ‘Bomber’ Mthethwa, who was at pains explaining that De Jongh was not a cheap option for the FA but rather an affordable coach, I had difficulty imagining the union of these football newly-weds blossoming into a long-lasting lovey-dovey, till-death-do-us-part kind of thing.

But what muddled the waters more for Mthethwa, in particular, was De Jongh’s lack of experience as a senior national team coach. Armed with a UEFA A Licence, De Jongh’s speech was incoherent and with the lack of experience sticking out like a sore thumb, I concluded then that the NFAS had taken a giant leap of faith hiring a man with no experience, to replace an amiable Swazi-born coach in Harries ‘Madze’ Bulunga, whose results had turned the bespectacled coach into a national darling.

Boy, even FIFA, the world governing body in its monthly review book had singled out the former Umbelebele/Cosmos coach for special mention, after guiding Sihlangu from the abyss of defeats to the highest FIFA ranking ever – 88th position - since affiliation in 1976.

Sihlangu were swashbuckling. They came within a whisker of qualifying for the first time for continental showpiece, the Africa Cup of Nations 2017 in Gabon. Compare that with the sorry state of affairs now. What do you have?
Chalk and cheese. Oil and water. Fire and ice. That the manner of defeat, in particular Sunday’s, is despicable is undoubted. Sihlangu’s fall from grace is not just some artificially manufactured storm inside a honey-and-lemon rooibos cup but it is real. The retrogression is playing, like a horror movie, before our disbelieving eyes. It became despicable and unspeakable on Sunday against the ruthless Zambians who were so far superior – more than the scoreline suggests. It was scary to watch.

My green flies in the wall tell me Pieter De Jongh has an unmistakeable volcanic temper, he spews lava when he is angry and breathes fire that leaves a dragon sheepishly green with envy.
I had an encounter with him in Rustenburg when he wanted to blow the lights out of a colleague, Sibusiso Masilela, from the Swazi Observer. I will address this later.

Things have been cluttered in the national team set up when his rage demons take over his soul. He has a short fuse. He fails to understand why and how local players cannot keep time; cannot follow basic instructions and openly display snobbish behaviour, reminding him of how good his predecessor Harries ‘Madze’ Bulunga was. Well, no doubt, indiscipline is an issue in our national team and the problem has manifested itself at club level where the players behave like prima donnas.

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