We took it all for granted. Never quite appreciated the magnitude of it all, what it took to finally achieve it. And when it all came to an end, taking Italy to the brink in the 2nd round of our very first World Cup was somehow deemed a failure. Our team left the US in twos and threes, never getting the kind of welcome back home their efforts deserved. And their coach – the very same one that had, a few months earlier, led the team to a first African title in 14 years – was swiftly kicked out, without so much as the farewell that decency and good sense demanded.
If you hadn’t put it together yet, I write of course, of the Nigeria team – the Super Eagles – of 1994 and Clemens Westerhof, the Dutch coach whose five-year tenure culminated in the very best team Nigeria has ever produced at full international level. And even if you disagree with that, last weekend’s 2-2 draw with Guinea – and especially it’s condemnation of the Eagles to a seat on the sidelines when the Nations Cup finals kick off next year – must surely have you yearning for those long gone days.
But I bring up those glory days of 1994, not for some nostalgic trip down memory lane, but to highlight some of the ills – coupled with the delusions of grandeur - that have plagued Nigerian football for years. Because, while Westerhof was achieving what had never been achieved in Nigerian football – and reaching heights we have been struggling to reach ever since – he was constantly vilified and belittled by know-it-all Nigerian fans and officials. This was supposed to be easy, right? Just call up a bunch of Europe based pros and that’s that. Any coach worth his salt can do that.
Well, after 12 coaches and 17 years – even longer than we had to wait for that second Nations Cup – here we are, still waiting for number 3. In all that time, we haven’t won anything at international level, only getting close to Nations Cup glory on that one occasion when Cameroon rubbed our noses in it in Lagos. Yet, our sense of greatness has just continued to grow and other coaches have felt the brush of our disdain. In 1997, Phillipe Troussier was appointed late, yet won World Cup qualification with a game to spare. We sacked him. Loathe him all you want, Shaibu Amodu has now led the Eagles to two world cup qualifications – losing just one of 15 matches – and finished third in two Nations Cup finals. Not good enough. “A world class team deserves a world class coach” has often been the refrain. I would have thought you had to actually achieve something to be considered world class.
Now it’s the turn of Samson Siasia, fired last week in the wake of the Eagles’ failure to reach the Nations Cup finals for the first time in 25 years. Now, on the face of it, there are many justifications for Siasia’s sacking – failure to even reach the finals is grounds enough, especially if his contract included this milestone as a clear target. And when you consider that the likes of Amodu, Troussier, and Austin Eguavoen saw the wrong end of the Football Federation’s boot despite achieving much more, it isn’t surprising that we have arrived at this pass.
But this sacking, rather than proving an answer to the problems plaguing the national team, raises a couple of questions.
The first concerns the criteria for rating a coach’s performance and hence deciding on firing and retention matters. While there’s no question that hard results have to play a part in these matters, a more nuanced approach could be of greater long-term benefit. Let’s face it; there’s much more to a team’s success than just the coach’s ability, and when it comes to results, there’s such a fine line between success and failure.
Take, for instance, the case of Shaibu Amodu. On the eve of Nigeria’s last World Cup qualifier against Kenya in November 2009, he was all but done. World Cup qualification seemed an impossible feat after Tunisia had secured a 2-2 draw in Abuja a couple of months earlier, and Amodu was already considered a “failure”. Yet, a 3-2 win in Nairobi helped secure a place in South Africa after the Tunisians failed to win in Mozambique and Amodu had gone from “dead man walking” to a coach with a second world cup qualification on his CV. Plain luck or great management?
Also, consider this: had just one of those many clear chances missed against Guinea the other week been converted, the Eagles would be on their way to Equatorial Guinea and Siasia would still be in charge. Or if we go even further back, had the Eagles not given up two comical goals in Addis Ababa – again down to individual errors – a win in that match would have been enough to secure a place in the finals and Siasia would still be coach. Poor management or sheer bad luck?
Here’s my point: if Amodu hadn’t shown enough to prove he was good enough for the Eagles job over the previous 18 months (he was set to lose his job), should one win in Nairobi – and the lucky break from Maputo – have been enough to save his job, regardless of how the team was playing?
And if Siasia had proved good enough in the previous 12 months prior to the Guinea game (he was set to keep his job), should that 2-2 draw and the consequent non-qualification be enough to kick him out, regardless of how the team was playing?
Should one match, regardless of its consequences, be the prime factor in deciding whether a coach is retained or fired?
But the second, more pertinent question all these raises is whether just making changes at coaching level at the highest level of our football is the way to achieve success at international level. Is the answer really as simple as finding the right coach and giving him a couple of years to take us to glory?
Successful countries obviously take a different tack. In Germany, failure at Euro 2000 sparked a renewed focus on youth development and the results are already coming in, with the national team – packed with young talent like Mesut Ozil, Thomas Muller and Manuel Neuer – impressing on their way to the semi finals at the World Cup finals last year. Just watch the German clubs in the Champions League and marvel at the number of young German talent on display – in sharp contrast to English sides like Manchester City or Chelsea. And they’ve only been at this for 10 years.
The Barcelona model is well known around the world now, with La Masia products leading the Catalan club to domestic and European glory – and the national team to the Euro and World Cup titles. But it’s not just about Barcelona. The Spanish FA has focused on youth development for years – even the Germans are looking to catch up with them - and the benefits just keep trickling up to the highest level.
Yet, with no discernible vision or plan in place, a country like Nigeria expects to compete on the same level as these countries – and fans, for some reason, get disappointed when they can’t.
For all the thought we put into these matters, we should just be happy for the opportunity to compete in the same sport.
