THEY say fortune favours the brave, but on Sunday in Rabat, it seems fortune just favours whoever can score when they’re supposed to be getting absolutely battered.
Cameroon 2-1 South Africa: The art of winning while losing
Picture this: You’re Cameroon. You’ve spent the first half-hour of your Round of 16 match looking like a lightweight boxer who forgot to bring his gloves. South Africa is pressing, probing, and generally making you look like you’d rather be anywhere else – perhaps enjoying a nice cup of tea somewhere far from a football pitch.
Bafana Bafana came out swinging harder than a caffeinated octopus, all tentacles flying in every direction. High press here, vertical play there, chances everywhere. Goalkeeper Epassy was busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger, pulling off saves that had the crowd gasping and the South African forwards cursing their luck.
Then, because football is a cruel mistress with a twisted sense of humour, Junior Tchamadeu popped up in the 33rd minute like a party crasher at a funeral. One shot, one goal, one collective groan from the South African bench. Suddenly, the Indomitable Lions remembered they were, well, lions – not particularly domesticated house cats.
If that wasn’t cheeky enough, Christian Kofane decided two minutes after halftime was the perfect moment to stick the boot in. A diving header in the 47th minute made it 2-0, and you could practically hear South Africa’s dreams deflating like a punctured beach ball.
To their eternal credit, Bafana Bafana refused to go gentle into that good night. Evidence Makgopa pulled one back in the 87th minute, transforming the final minutes into a nail-biting thriller that had Epassy channeling his inner superhero once more. But Cameroon hung on like a cat clinging to curtains, securing their quarter-final spot through sheer bloody-minded determination.
“We play for each other,” declared Man of the Match Carlos Baleba afterward, presumably while still catching his breath. “That is what makes our team strong.” Also helpful: scoring goals when you’re getting pummeled helps too, Carlos.
South Africa coach Hugo Broos was philosophical in defeat, delivering the sporting equivalent of a shrug: “That’s the way life is.” Indeed, Hugo. Indeed.
Morocco 1-0 Tanzania: When patience becomes a virtue (eventually)
Meanwhile, in the other Rabat venue, Morocco discovered that hosting a tournament doesn’t automatically make the football easier. Tanzania, bless them, turned up with a game plan that can best be described as “park approximately seventeen buses in front of goal and see what happens.”
For the first half, what happened was precisely nothing. Morocco had the ball, Morocco had the possession, Morocco had everything except the one thing they actually needed – a goal that counted. Poor Ismail Saibari thought he’d broken the deadlock in the 24th minute, only for VAR to tap him on the shoulder like a disapproving headmaster and point out he was offside. Cruel.
Tanzania nearly authored one of the tournament’s greatest heist stories when Feisal Toto found himself unmarked in the box in the 56th minute. Alas, he sent his shot into orbit, presumably aiming for passing satellites rather than the back of the net.
Enter Brahim Diaz, stage right, with all the swagger of someone who knows he’s already the tournament’s top scorer. In the 63rd minute, he cut inside and finished from an angle so tight it would make a geometry teacher weep, securing his fourth goal of the competition and Morocco’s passage to the quarter-finals.
“The competition is growing in intensity,” Diaz noted afterward, in what might be the understatement of the tournament. Tanzania coach Miguel Ángel Gamondi was prouder than a parent at a school play, declaring the gap between his team and Morocco wasn’t as big as people think. Technically true, Miguel – it’s only one goal wide.
The Road Ahead
So there you have it: Cameroon survived their own incompetence to set up a quarter-final date with Morocco on Friday at the Stade Moulay Abdellah. One team that can’t defend properly facing another that spent 63 minutes trying to remember how to shoot.
What could possibly go wrong? Or, more accurately, what could possibly go right?
Football, ladies and gentlemen. Where logic goes to die and drama is served with a side of absurdity.
