Think Forward.

Sports

Morocco in the big leagues, full steam ahead... 313

Aziz Daouda, 22 h.
- Sports -
2.1 min read.
Morocco no longer moves on tiptoe. It now walks with the assurance of football’s great nations. What a striking image: our Lions leaving the tarmac at Rabat-Salé airport bound for New York. Impeccable dark suits, red ties in the nation’s colors, a red carpet rolled out under their feet… A powerful symbol. Of a country that has understood modern football is also about stature, representation and a winning culture. In the middle of that almost Hollywood scene, one man naturally draws the eye: Mohamed Ouahbi. Calm smile, serene gaze, controlled posture, perfectly adjusted glasses. He exudes that apparent tranquility known only to those driven by an immense inner pressure. People who have already held responsibility know what that means: reassuring the troops, inspiring confidence, hiding doubt to feed hope. I know this from years of experience. It is hard to lead men to the summit where all eyes converge and emotions run high. Ouahbi precisely possesses that rare mix: know-how, personality and conviction. He knows his players. Above all, he knows he leads a generation no longer afraid of anyone. He also knows he will play with our nerves and emotions like never before. Morocco’s 2026 national team is not only talented. It is hungry. - Hungry for recognition. - Hungry for careers. - Hungry for trophies. - Hungry to write its own name in Moroccan football history. These young men know global football gives no one gifts. They know a great tournament can change a life, open the doors of the biggest clubs and firmly establish a career. That truth often sparks the greatest epics. They also know — and above all — that Morocco is offering each of them the chance of a lifetime. They understand that in a World Cup what matters is the collective, and they form one: bonded, unbreakable. In this group, several players arrive with the energy of the ambitious and the pride of competitors. Boys who want to seize their chance with both hands. Players who are not here to take part but to leave their mark. They play for and represent a Morocco that no longer sees top-level participation as a miracle but as an obligation, reflecting a King, a nation and a people. Perhaps that is the greatest change. For a long time Morocco was invited to the table of football’s great nations with the modesty of the “underdog.” We were happy to be there, happy to compete, sometimes simply happy to exist. We were placed at the end of the table… That era is over. Since the historic achievement at the 2022 World Cup, the world’s view has changed. Morocco is watched, respected and expected. Today, when the Lions step onto a pitch, they represent a school, a project and a continental ambition. They carry the hopes of a country, but also of an Africa that wants to look football’s giants in the eye. And it must be said clearly: Morocco has done everything to reach the summit. - World-class infrastructure. - An ambitious training policy. - Modern centres. - A structured federation. - A royal vision that has placed sport at the heart of the country’s influence. - An exceptional diaspora that continually enriches our football. The whole world sees it today. Of course, only God knows what the competition will bring. Football remains unpredictable, sometimes cruel, often magical. But one thing is certain: this Moroccan squad no longer leaves with an inferiority complex. They leave with a mission: to do everything possible to bring a World Cup home and to confirm that Morocco now belongs in the circle of football’s great nations. And when those young Lions boarded the plane at Rabat-Salé, elegant, focused and proud to wear the nation’s red, an entire people boarded with them. On the plane they did not yet know they were now seventh in the FIFA world rankings... That is how New York welcomed them.

Wahbi and the gamble of a hybrid Morocco: toward a game of control… 1479

Aziz Daouda, 8 d.
- Sports -
3.2 min read.
In contemporary football, the great nations are no longer defined solely by the intrinsic quality of their players, but by their ability to shift gears without losing their identity. That is precisely the ambition Mohamed Wahbi seems to embody through his reading of the game and the composition of his squad for the 2026 World Cup. Much of the analysis and criticism has remained confined to a traditional framework, that of the “best players selected.” This approach misses the point. Wahbi is not merely assembling individuals; he is constructing functions. His squad is not built on hierarchy, but on scenarios. Each profile corresponds to a match situation, a tactical configuration, a strategic necessity. In other words, he is not building a team; he is designing an evolving, adaptive, and pragmatic system. What we are witnessing, then, is a transformed continuity. Wahbi’s project does not break with the Regragui era; it extends it intelligently. Morocco’s 2022 campaign will remain one of the greatest performances in African football history, built on elite defensive organization, remarkable collective discipline, and clinical use of transitions. But such a model, by nature, quickly reaches its limits if it becomes predictable. That is precisely what must now change. Wahbi appears to have internalized this reality. He is not seeking to erase that legacy, but to enrich and refine it. To solidity without the ball, he adds ambition with the ball, the ambition to control, dictate, impose, and vary play. He already demonstrated this convincingly with the U20s. Morocco no longer wants merely to survive matches; it wants to learn how to govern and master them. Hybridization is the doctrine Wahbi is now imposing on the squad. The central concept of Wahbi’s project is that of a hybrid team, not indecisive, but polymorphic, capable of changing structure and dynamics at any moment within the same match. At the highest level, rigidity is a weakness. Top national teams know how to navigate between multiple states of play within a single game: defending in a low block or pressing high; monopolizing possession or attacking quickly; slowing the tempo or neutralizing opposition transitions. This adaptability defines competitiveness. Against a powerhouse like Brazil, ball control becomes a defensive tool. Against a low block, it becomes an attacking weapon. In a physical contest, it must be paired with the ability to win second balls and sustain intensity. Wahbi clearly rejects a Morocco that is reactive by nature; he wants a team capable of imposing itself while adjusting in real time. To achieve this, his selections prioritize profiles capable of both understanding and embodying this doctrine. The squad thus reflects a functional reading of football. Within this framework, Achraf Hakimi goes far beyond his role as a full-back. He becomes a constant source of imbalance, a wide creator whose attacking freedom structures the team’s overall equilibrium, something he already executes brilliantly at PSG. Ayoub El Kaabi is not just a finisher. He is a focal point, an axial reference who stretches defensive lines and frees intermediate spaces. Soufiane Rahimi provides constant vertical threat, essential for pinning back opposition blocks and discouraging aggressive pressing. Ismaël Saibari embodies the role of a connective false nine, capable of linking lines, absorbing pressure, and fluidifying attacking patterns, while remaining highly unpredictable for defenders. Wahbi does not duplicate profiles; he multiplies solutions and expands his options. This should translate into a genuine technical upgrade and increased efficiency. Another strong signal also emerges: a clear intent to elevate Morocco toward a possession-based game. Around players like Ounahi, El Khannouss, Bouaddi, El Aynaoui, and Brahim Díaz, a midfield core is taking shape that can resist pressing, organize build-up play, and control tempo. This reflects a clear cultural evolution. Long confined to a physical or transitional identity, African national teams have struggled to be recognized as sides capable of controlling games. Morocco aims to break that implicit ceiling by embracing intelligent possession football, rooted in game intelligence and technical quality. This ambition is supported by a generation trained in demanding tactical environments, capable of interpreting multiple roles and adapting to varied contexts, and of accepting risk as a necessary passage. Because this project naturally carries a degree of uncertainty. A hybrid team can lose clarity if its reference points are not fully assimilated. A wealth of options can create indecision. Possession-based football requires time, automatisms, and high collective intelligence. But Wahbi accepts this risk. Where others might hide behind a proven model, he chooses evolution, embedding his project in a long-term vision. Wahbi is betting on a simple truth: at World Cup level, defensive solidity alone is no longer enough. One must also be able to control the ball, impose sequences, break down blocks, and manage difficult phases in ways other than mere resistance. Our national team will genuinely change status. Ultimately, this squad reflects a deeper transformation. Morocco no longer wants to be just a team capable of producing upsets; it aspires to become one that imposes its authority. This shift is as much mental as it is tactical. For Wahbi, the challenge goes beyond selecting a starting eleven. It is about building a team capable of reading the game, accelerating when needed, slowing it down when required, enduring without collapsing, controlling to dominate, attacking depth to make the difference, and above all, knowing when to change gears without losing coherence. That mastery of moments is the hallmark of great teams. And it is precisely toward that standard that Mohamed Wahbi seems intent on leading this side. As for us, informed observers or not, experts or not, we must remain patient and united. To those not selected, it must be said: such is football. It is not injustice, but strategy. A team, by definition, is a limited group. On the day of his appointment, I said that Wahbi had the mindset to win a World Cup at senior level. Today, I believe it even more strongly. God willing.

Football held hostage by the culture of excuses: when defeat becomes a conspiracy... 1683

Aziz Daouda, 11 d.
- Society - Sports -
2.9 min read.
Football is a sport of passion, emotion, and collective identity. It is often an extension of a national, regional, or popular feeling. This emotional power explains its greatness, but it also explains its excesses. For several years now, a worrying trend has been taking hold in world football: the growing inability of some coaches, officials, and other actors in the game to simply acknowledge the superiority of the opponent or their own shortcomings. Every defeat becomes suspicious. Every refereeing decision is turned into a scandal. Every elimination feeds a conspiracy theory. This culture of excuses is no longer marginal. It has become frequent enough to constitute a real moral, institutional, and security problem in football. The 2025 AFCON is a perfect example. The latest episode clearly illustrates this drift: the coach of Egypt’s U17 team blamed his side’s defeat on refereeing. Even at a youth level, where sporting education should take precedence over controversy, some officials would rather discredit referees than honestly assess their team’s weaknesses. Defeat is no longer accepted as a sporting reality Football is nevertheless based on a fundamental principle: there is a winner and a loser. Defeat is an integral part of sport. It should be analyzed, understood, and used as a lever for progress. Yet more and more, some coaches refuse this obvious truth. They prefer to point to outside culprits: - the referee; - the institutions; - VAR; - the fixtures; - the weather conditions; - alleged continental or international conspiracies. Rarely do they mention: - their poor tactical choices; - the lack of commitment from certain players; - their team’s technical or mental weaknesses; - poor preparation; - or simply the superior quality of the opponent. This attitude reflects a deep crisis of responsibility in modern football. A dangerous diversion tactic In many cases, blaming refereeing is primarily a way to protect the image of the coach or the club. Admitting mistakes takes courage. Accusing the referee, by contrast, helps deflect supporters’ anger. This strategy may seem effective in the short term, but it causes major damage. First, it fuels constant distrust toward national football institutions, continental confederations such as the Confederation of African Football, and even FIFA. Second, it helps radicalize supporters. When a coach publicly claims that a defeat is the result of injustice or manipulation, he legitimizes the anger, aggression, and sometimes even the violence of thousands of people. In some contexts, such accusations have led to assaults on referees, pitch invasions, urban violence, sporting diplomatic breakdowns, and online hate campaigns. Football then stops being a space of competition and becomes a field of permanent suspicion. The poison of sporting conspiracy thinking is obvious. The poison of sporting conspiracy One of the most serious phenomena is the rise of true football conspiracy thinking. Some defeats are said to be caused not by the opponent’s merit but by hidden forces: corrupt referees, biased federations, hostile confederations, and orchestrated decisions. This logic is destructive because it eliminates any culture of self-criticism. How can teams improve tactically if they refuse to admit their mistakes? How can young players be taught sportsmanship if they are told defeat is always unjust? How can credible institutions be built when they are constantly attacked without evidence? What is most worrying is that this mindset now reaches youth categories. Yet youth football should precisely teach respect, learning, mental discipline, and acceptance of the sporting result. When a U17 coach prefers to blame refereeing rather than acknowledge his team’s limits, he sends an extremely harmful message to younger generations. Great coaches take responsibility Football history shows that the greatest coaches are often those who know how to acknowledge their mistakes. Top-level managers such as Carlo Ancelotti, Pep Guardiola, and Jürgen Klopp have regularly admitted tactical errors, poor lineup choices, mental shortcomings in their teams, or the superiority of the opponent. This attitude does not diminish their standing; on the contrary, it strengthens their credibility. Acknowledging defeat is not humiliation. It is a sign of maturity, competence, and responsibility. Should irresponsible accusations be punished? The question now deserves serious attention: how far should we allow some officials to freely discredit football institutions? Freedom of expression must of course be protected. Refereeing mistakes do happen. Criticism of football is legitimate. But there is a fundamental difference between a reasoned critique and a permanent accusation aimed at delegitimizing referees and institutions without evidence. Stricter regulations should be considered to sanction unfounded accusations, statements that incite hatred against referees, conspiracy-driven remarks without factual basis, and systematic smear campaigns against sporting institutions. Such sanctions could include fines, suspensions, mandatory public retractions, or even temporary touchline bans. Protecting refereeing authority and institutional credibility is not a luxury; it is a necessity if football is to have a future. We must restore responsibility Football urgently needs to recover this essential value. A coach should be able to say: - “We lost because we were not good enough.” - “My tactical plan did not work.” - “My players were below the required level.” - “The opponent was better.” These phrases should be normal in elite sport. Yet they are becoming rare. By turning every setback into a scandal, football drifts away from its core values of merit, effort, learning, and respect for competition. The greatness of sport lies not only in victory. It also lies in the dignity with which defeat is accepted. I do not know whether Pape Thiaw will agree with this view. He should. The media should too.

Farewell Hamad Kalkaba Malboum, my friend, my brother, my president. 4214

Aziz Daouda, 26 d.
- Sports -
3.1 min read.
The passing of Hamad Kalkaba Malboum, my friend, my brother, my president, marks a painful turning point for African sport. With him fades one of the last great builders of a generation that believed Africa could claim its place in global sports institutions not through complaints, victimhood, or marginalization, but through work, organization, and consistency. Born in 1950 in Kawadji, near Kousséri (Far North of Cameroon), the country he cherished so deeply, Hamad Kalkaba Malboum lived several lives in one existence. He was a soldier, gendarme, athlete, administrator, sports diplomat, and above all, a tireless advocate for Cameroonian and African sport. Shaped by the rigor of a senior army and gendarmerie officer, he understood early on that sport was not merely entertainment, but an instrument of sovereignty, influence, and national cohesion. He himself practiced handball and athletics in his youth, representing Cameroon in the 1970s. But it was especially off the tracks that he would leave a historic mark. When Hamad Kalkaba gradually rose to continental sports responsibilities, African athletics was still in the shadow of Western powers. African champions already existed, but decision-making centers remained elsewhere. Africa supplied the talent, rarely the decision-makers. He devoted his life to changing that balance. At the helm of the National Olympic and Sports Committee of Cameroon from the late 1990s, and especially as president of the African Athletics Confederation starting in 2003, he became one of the continent's most listened-to voices in international sports circles. His fight was constant: giving Africa the means to organize, govern, and think its own sport. In 2006, when I left the Royal Moroccan Athletics Federation, as soon as he heard the news, he picked up the phone and said to me: "It's a shame for Morocco that you've left the Federation. Do you want to serve Africa by my side?" That's how he convinced me to say yes. "Serve": Kalkaba's watchword. Those who knew him know that was his philosophy of life: to serve. First, rigorous planning was put in place. A ten-year plan was adopted at the general assembly, followed by a second one ten years later. The course was set, clear, with the goal of all-around development of African athletics. Continental championships for U18s and U20s were established, along with cross-country. The number of participating countries was to increase, and that of athletes double. Training centers were opened for athletes in Lomé, Port Harcourt, and Abidjan. The missions of the centers in Mauritius, Cairo, and Nairobi were revisited. Emphasis was placed on training athletes and coaches. And the results came quickly. Africa won the Intercontinental Cup several times. The level of African athletes improved, and at least three countries ranked among the top 10 at every edition of the world championships and Olympics. Under his impetus, African championships gained visibility, became structured, and several African countries began hosting major international events. He relentlessly defended the idea that athletics is Africa's true king of sports, the one that offers the continent its greatest Olympic emotions and global recognition. Just days before his passing, he reiterated this deep conviction: "Africa remains an important cradle of world athletics." That sentence sums up his entire vision. For him, Africa was not merely a reservoir of talent destined to enrich other nations. It had to become an organized, respected, and influential sports power, denouncing the brain drain of talents, the mass naturalizations of African athletes, and the lack of state investment in sports infrastructure. His activism extended far beyond athletics. He played a key role in military sport through the CISM, which he presided over, and as vice president of the Organization of Islamic States Sports. Recently, he brought his peers together to form CASOL, an body uniting African Sports Confederations. Hamad Kalkaba believed in sport as a diplomatic and geopolitical tool. In a recent lecture at Cameroon's Institute of International Relations, he explained that sport had become a major instrument of soft power, peace, and international influence for African nations. He understood, before many others, that the global sports world was also an arena of political, economic, and cultural power struggles. He belonged to that generation of African leaders with a continental vision of sport. Like Lamine Diack, to whom he recently paid moving tribute, Hamad Kalkaba saw African athletics as a common heritage to defend collectively. Criticism was never lacking during his long tenure. Like any power figure spanning decades, he was sometimes accused of embodying an outdated, overly vertical system that was insufficiently renewed. But even his adversaries acknowledged his exceptional knowledge of global sports mechanisms and his rare ability to defend African interests in major international bodies. His passing comes just as he was preparing the major continental athletics events. With Hamad Kalkaba Malboum disappears a certain idea of the African sports leader: a man of the field, networks, conviction, and strategic patience. A man who believed Africa must learn to weigh in on international institutions rather than simply participate in them. His legacy now transcends medals, congresses, or organized competitions. To the end, he remained in service to African sport, which must no longer be a mere extra in world history, but one of its central actors. Today, African athletics loses more than a leader. It loses a militant. His final battle was to get adoption of the proposal that World Athletics Council members be elected in their respective continents, according to a quota reserved for each. Who, after him, will defend this constructive idea that he had adopted at the continental level? That's what we were discussing at my place just ten days ago, and on the phone the day before yesterday... Rest in peace, my friend, my brother, my president. Nothing will ever be the same at the CAA. Hamad also sang in his youth. Here he sings to the glory of God. Have a look on the link hereby.
youtu.be/Jthq7kjOecU?si=uvPq_XND...

Hassan II Trophy: Fifty Years of History, Memory, and Royal Vision... 5051

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
- Society - Sports -
1.8 min read.
There are anniversaries that are more than mere numbers. They are milestones in a life, landmarks in memory. This 50th edition of the Hassan II Golf Trophy is one of them. And for me, it holds a special flavor: that of half a century of history that I have had the modest privilege of living through. I can still picture myself, young and enthusiastic, assigned by my friend Najib Salmi to cover the very first edition for *L’Opinion*. We didn't yet know we were witnessing the birth of an event destined to span decades and place Morocco on the world map of golf. At the time, the gamble seemed bold. Golf was not a popular sport in Morocco, let alone a vector for international image. But that gamble bore the mark of a vision. That of Hassan II. To put it bluntly: the Hassan II Trophy is not just a sports competition. It is the expression of a strategy. A way, for a visionary sovereign, to anticipate what modern diplomacy would become: a diplomacy of influence, image, cultural and sporting outreach. Hassan II understood, well before many others, that sport could be a universal language. A space where nations meet without rigid protocol, where elites exchange in an informal setting, and where a country's image is built with subtlety. Golf, in particular, offered that prestigious yet discreet dimension, perfectly aligned with his idea of Morocco's positioning. Golf in Morocco had its own tradition and unique flavor, which a certain Winston Churchill regularly came to savor... Over the editions, I watched this trophy grow. From a still-confidential tournament, it became a recognized stop on the international circuit. I saw champions come and go, infrastructure evolve, and organization professionalize. But more than that, I saw a royal intuition proven right, year after year. What strikes me today, looking back, is not just the event's longevity. It is its coherence. Nothing was left to chance. The choice of courses, the quality of hospitality, the attention to detail... all of it meets one demand: to make Morocco a reference. And then there is that human dimension, often overlooked in official reports. The encounters, the chats by the green, the bonds forged over the years. Najib Salmi is no longer here to share this moment, but I know he would have savored it, like me, this continuity. We had begun this adventure almost as curious onlookers; today we see it consecrated. Fifty editions later, the Hassan II Trophy is far more than a tournament. It is a legacy. That of a king whom history will surely remember as one of the greatest of the Alaouite dynasty, not only for his political acumen, but for his ability to see far, very far ahead. Today, the vision is renewed. His Majesty King Mohammed VI has revitalized the approach with vigor, and His Royal Highness Prince Moulay Rachid ensures it translates into reality in the best possible way. And I, a mere chronicler of this long span of time, today measure the privilege of having been there at the beginning... and of still being here to recount its trajectory and savor the spectacle with the pride of a fulfilled citizen living his Moroccan identity.

Moroccan Football: When Spectacle Becomes a Pretext for Confrontation... 5203

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.8 min read.
There was, at the outset, a kind of almost naive optimism. By modernizing infrastructure, offering fans stadiums to international standards, professionalizing organization and hospitality, and shifting to what's now called the "fan experience," many believed Moroccan football would cross a threshold—not just sporting, but civic as well. The idea was simple: by elevating hosting conditions, public behavior would automatically improve. Recent events during FAR–Raja at the Moulay Abdallah Complex brutally contradict this hypothesis. A rude awakening that, naively, no one anticipated. What happened there is neither trivial, nor isolated, nor should it be dismissed as a mere incident. On the contrary, it's the symptom of a deeper malaise that categorically transcends the realm of football. The illusion of infrastructure as a driver of change has simply shattered. Morocco has massively invested in its sports facilities, eyeing continental and international ambitions, and of course a legacy and assets for youth and football. The Moulay Abdallah Complex, a showcase of this policy, is meant to embody this new era, with security, comfort, and organization. Yet these modern infrastructures failed to prevent scenes of violence, vandalism, and clashes. This highlights a fundamental analytical error. Social problems aren't solved by purely material responses. Stadiums aren't airtight bubbles insulated from society's tensions. They often mirror and amplify them. For some time now, they've become the venue and crucible for claims and expressions that go far beyond football. The fundamental question is to open our eyes. Are we dealing with football fans or organized groups, manipulated and spurred on as the spearhead of obscure agendas? Doesn't this echo the methods of the Open Society? It would be misleading to reduce these outbursts to mere "fan excesses." A portion of the crowd in the stands clearly isn't there for the football. In many cases, these are structured groups, mostly young, sometimes very young, who instrumentalize the sports event as a space for violent expression. They themselves are likely manipulated and victimized. The match then becomes a pretext, and the stadium a stage where power struggles unfold that have little to do with the game. Clashes with law enforcement aren't accidental. They're sought, prepared, sometimes even ritualized. Should we see manipulation at play? The question deserves to be asked without naivety. In numerous international contexts, fan movements have been infiltrated, instrumentalized, or co-opted for political, ideological, or criminal ends. Morocco isn't inherently immune to such drifts. Thinking otherwise is ingenuous. Faced with these derailments, another element stands out: the silence of certain clubs. This muteness is, at best, cowardice. At worst, implicit complicity or simply fear of confrontation. Clubs are the first affected. Their image and finances are directly hit by these behaviors. Their moral responsibility is engaged. Yet few take a clear, firm, public stance to condemn these acts and disavow these groups. Why this silence? Fear of losing part of their fan base? Inability to control groups that have become autonomous? Or calculation, viewing these radical fringes as contributors to stadium atmosphere and pressure despite everything? Whatever the reason, this stance is untenable. Clubs can't claim the benefits of popular support, enjoy colossal subsidies and investments at taxpayers' expense, while turning a blind eye to their gravest excesses. Treating them as incidents handed off to security services isn't acceptable. Clubs must speak out, express themselves, disavow, and openly condemn. FAR's leaders have just broken this silence with a statement denouncing what happened. All football clubs and their league likely need to go further. Why not join as civil parties? The image of clubs, football, and the country is severely damaged. This is also a matter of authority and societal project. At bottom, the issue transcends football. It points to a broader stake: authority, youth guidance, and meaning given to collective spaces. When youths use a match to "settle scores," it reveals deficits in integration, benchmarks, and prospects. The stadium becomes an outlet, but also a training ground for confrontation. Action is thus needed, and quickly. Youths all dressed in black eerily recall fascist movements from another era, another world. The response can't be purely securitarian, though necessary. It must be holistic: educational, social, cultural. It requires holding all actors accountable—notably, it bears repeating, parents, society, clubs, the federation, local authorities, and media. Labeling openly dangerous behaviors as "festive expressions" and broadcasting their images is reckless. It implicitly gives visibility to movements that thrive on it, demonstrating their power and attracting more followers and sympathizers. Some, naively, push crowds toward extreme behaviors through inappropriate narratives and semantics they don't master. More than ever, it's time to restore football's essence: a cultural moment of sharing, collective emotion, framed rivalry. When it becomes a battlefield, it loses its purpose. It's thus urgent to reaffirm clear lines: - Zero tolerance for organized violence - Clubs held accountable for their supporters - Professional league held accountable - Identification and sanctioning of troublemakers behind the scenes - Rebuilding a healthy bond between youth and sport. For without this, the world's finest stadiums will remain empty shells devoid of meaning, unable to contain tensions they're not meant to resolve. Moroccan football deserves better. And it's still time to right the course—if we face reality head-on, with intelligence and without complacency.

AFCON 2025, Regulations and Narrative: When the Laws of the Game Catch Up with the Debate... 5644

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
- Sports -
2.4 min read.
The controversy surrounding the AFCON 2025 final has been decisive. It now resembles less a debate than a serialized drama, where law and passion vie for the starring role, each convinced it has the superior script. For several weeks, the Confederation of African Football's (CAF) appeal jury decision, ratifying Senegal's defeat on a technicality and crowning Morocco as the official winner, has been scrutinized, dissected, contested, and even rewritten according to various biases. The most vehement commentators invoke a principle they elevate to the status of sanctity: a football match must be decided on the pitch, not in air-conditioned offices. Fair enough... until the fundamental rules are transgressed and trampled. The argument is noble, of course... but it conveniently overlooks that without regulations, sanctions, and bodies to enforce them, football would quickly resemble a giant playground where everyone redraws the rules at halftime. In reality, this debate says less about the match itself than about our collective difficulty accepting that in football too, as in life, the final whistle can sometimes blow... off the field. The seductive argument in the abstract, that the result must be earned on the pitch, collides with an inescapable reality: football is also, and perhaps above all, a universal normative framework. Without rules, there is no competition, no fairness, no legitimacy, no universality. And precisely, the recent adjustments by The International Football Association Board (IFAB) shed light on this tension between sporting idealism and regulatory discipline. For context, the IFAB establishes football's Laws of the Game fairly independently from FIFA's governing bodies. A legacy from the past, but a fine inheritance ensuring a degree of objectivity and neutrality. By introducing some modifications to the Laws of the Game recently, the body has brought a major clarification. From now on, any player leaving the pitch in protest risks a red card and ejection, and any team responsible for abandoning a match will be declared to have forfeited. This is the logical follow-up to what happened in Rabat. A truly welcome legacy here too. The IFAB is simply saying: never again. This point is crucial. It’s not an interpretation, but an explicit intent to strengthen the referee's authority and preserve competition integrity through stricter adherence to the rules of play and competition. In other words, the behavior seen in this controversial final is not just morally regrettable; it is now formally regulated and sanctioned. This profoundly changes the nature of the debate. For while one can question the wisdom of a past decision, it becomes hard to ignore that the direction of legal evolution aligns precisely with the CAF's choice, explicitly backed by the body that crafts football's rules, and, by extension, by FIFA itself. Thus, a question arises: why do some analysts highlight secondary elements of the new rules, like the ban on players covering their mouths during protests or exchanges, while omitting the core provisions on match abandonment? Have they not grasped the importance of the most significant change in world football, effective immediately? This editorial choice raises questions. It suggests less a desire to fully inform than an attempt to sustain a weakened argumentative line amid evolving legal frameworks. Refusing to integrate this new data risks accusations of bias, or even deliberate narrative distortion. It would be far more productive to recognize that modern football cannot survive without collective discipline. The romanticism of “a game decided on the pitch” cannot justify behaviors that undermine referee authority and threaten the very order of competition. In this light, the CAF's decision now appears less an anomaly than a fortunate anticipation, perhaps severe, but coherent with a normative evolution embraced at the highest levels of world football. The polemic around this final thus far exceeds a single match. It reveals a rift between two visions of football: one emotional and narrative, clinging to the idea of the game regardless of how it's played; the other institutional and legal, aware that without strict rule observance, the game itself loses all meaning. And in this showdown, the laws of the game seem to have gained an irrevocable lead. This aligns with history, perhaps innovation, but undoubtedly the normal evolution of things. From now on, no one will use the threat of walking off to influence the referee's decisions. From now on and forever, the law will take precedence in all circumstances.

April 6: The Moroccan Idea That Conquered the World... 6395

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
- Society - Sports -
2.2 min read.
April 6 is now etched into the global calendar as the International Day of Sport for Development and Peace. A celebration championed by the United Nations, echoed across all continents, and enthusiastically embraced by millions of athletes, institutions, and enthusiasts. Yet behind this worldwide recognition lies an origin that often goes unnoticed. It’s a Moroccan idea, that of Hamid Kamal Lahlou. The irony is striking. While the world fervently celebrates this day, Morocco—the birthplace of the initiative—sometimes seems to lag behind, as if hesitating to fully claim its paternity. Yes, there have been scattered initiatives and events here and there. But they fall far short of what we might have hoped for. We won’t list the few organized manifestations, so as not to ruffle feathers by omitting any. In any case, there are no major events from the sports authorities, such as the ministry, the National Olympic Committee, or the major Royal Moroccan Sports Federations. Is this simply an oversight, or a more subtle form of distancing? The question deserves to be asked, especially when you know the personality of its originator. Kamal Lahlou is not a consensual figure. Journalist, sports leader, communicator, he has established himself over decades as a singular voice in Morocco’s media and sports landscape. His career is dense: former handball player, originally a physical education teacher and inspector, committed actor in the development of national sports, he has held important responsibilities, notably within the Moroccan National Olympic Committee and the Association of African National Olympic Committees. He remains president of the Royal Moroccan Weightlifting Federation and vice-president of the Mohammed VI Sports Champions Foundation. But beyond titles and roles, it’s his words that stand out and his stance that impresses. Direct, clear, often critical, Lahlou disturbs as much as he inspires. He practices neither doublespeak nor complacency. In an environment where restraint is sometimes elevated to an implicit rule, his frankness cuts through. He points out shortcomings, challenges decision-makers, and defends a demanding vision of sport as a lever for development and national influence. This positioning has earned him as many admirers as detractors and doubtless even more denigrators. Some praise his courage and consistency, others reproach him for a tone deemed too incisive. Still others find nothing to fault him for, yet behind his back, lavish him with gratuitous reprimands. But all agree on one point: Kamal Lahlou is an incontournable figure, impossible to ignore. His patriotism admits no ambiguity. Behind every statement, every critique, emerges a clear ambition: to see the Kingdom take the place it deserves on the international sports scene. The April 6 Day fits precisely into this logic. By proposing to dedicate a date to sport as a vector for peace and development, Lahlou sought not personal legitimation, but recognition of the fundamental role sport can play in modern societies. He thus transcribed, in his own way, the royal vision of sport and the role the country can play on a universal scale in service of peace. So why this relative discretion in Morocco around this day? Is it the price to pay for free speech? The backlash of rivalries that have no place? An implicit way to marginalize a figure deemed too independent? A means to silence an ambitious voice? Or simply a deficit of collective memory? Whatever the answers, or the answer, one reality remains. April 6 is an idea born in Morocco, carried by a Moroccan, and adopted by the entire world. At a time when the country seeks to strengthen its soft power and highlight its successes, it might be time to reconcile origin and celebration. For recognizing this initiative to Kamal Lahlou is not just about honoring a man. Does he really need it? It’s rather about embracing a part of contemporary national and global sports history, and reminding that beyond infrastructure and performances, ideas too can change the world. And if it’s the Kingdom of Morocco at the origin, that’s even better.

Doping: Move Beyond Fiction, Confront the Public Health Issue... 7958

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
3 min read.
It’s tempting to dismiss the recent doping cases in Moroccan football with a wave of the hand, reducing them to individual errors, mishaps, or even injustices. It’s tempting, but dangerous. What’s at stake today goes far beyond a few disciplinary sanctions. Doping, in its contemporary form, is no longer just cheating: it’s a brutal revealer of a deeper dysfunction—an out-of-control sports and health ecosystem, sustained by a comfortable illusion: “football isn’t affected.” For a long time, football has sheltered itself behind a convenient fiction: that of a sport relatively spared from doping, an illusion maintained on a global scale despite well-documented precedents. In Morocco, this fiction persists: every case is treated as an anomaly, never as a signal. That said, what has recently come to light does concern football, but it’s far from the only sport affected. The rise of the Moroccan Anti-Doping Agency (AMAD) and the significant increase in controls have changed the game: what we’re seeing today isn’t necessarily more doping, but more truth. And that truth is unsettling. The narrative of “accidental doping” is increasingly holding up poorly against the facts. The dominant discourse is well-rehearsed: athletes are victims of involuntary doping, from contaminated supplements, poorly prescribed medications, and good-faith errors. This discourse isn’t entirely false. It’s simply incomplete. Because behind “involuntary doping” lies a more troubling reality: a widespread normalization of substance ingestion, in a culture where presumed immediate performance gains take precedence over knowledge, caution, and medical oversight. Yet it’s nearly impossible to prove that ingesting this or that substance enhances sports performance. What is certain and proven, however, are the inevitable health consequences. Anti-doping law is implacable: the athlete is responsible for everything they consume, whether they intended to cheat or not. This principle of strict liability isn’t an injustice, it’s a safeguard. But athletes must first be given the real means to understand what they’re ingesting. Clearly, that’s not the case for a large portion of them today. For elite athletes, controls are there to deter and sanction when necessary. The problem becomes even graver for young people—and not-so-young—who train for themselves, outside the most visible circuits. That’s where supplements represent a new gray area and the heart of the issue, widely underestimated. Supplements have become the gateway to a diffuse, invisible, insidious form of doping. Uncertified products, uncontrolled imports, aggressive marketing: everything conspires to maintain an illusion of safety, while these products are a sanitary blind spot. Their massive consumption among young people is rarely medically supervised. It relies on informal recommendations, locker-room advice, impromptu sellers, and sometimes even social media “influencers.” You can even find them in some souks and dairies. The result is unequivocal: careers shattered over a few grams of unidentified powder, but above all, and most alarmingly, weakened bodies, hormonal disorders, metabolic imbalances appearing earlier and earlier. Doping is no longer just a sports fraud; it’s becoming a full-fledged public health issue. The silence and sometimes passive complicity of clubs and gyms is another blind spot in the system. It takes courage to ask the uncomfortable question: where are the clubs in all this? Few gyms are truly spared. Some don’t hesitate to sell, without the slightest scruple, products whose true composition and potential effects on users’ bodies are known only to their suppliers. And how do you respond to a young person who challenges you: “You tell us these products aren’t good, but the coach says we have to take them”? In many cases, medical oversight is insufficient, if not nonexistent. Young people evolve in an environment where physical appearance is glorified, but scientific and medical culture remains marginal. This void is filled by improvisation and worse, a form of collective abdication of responsibility. When the scandal breaks, the athlete faces the sanction alone. The club vanishes from the story. Yet the law clearly defines the various levels of responsibility: products don’t fall from the sky. This asymmetry is no longer sustainable. Responsibility can no longer be considered solely individual. Doping in Moroccan football, ever since two high-level players have been implicated, can no longer be analyzed solely through the lens of personal fault. It’s the product of an insufficiently regulated supplements market, a lack of structured medical oversight, increasingly early performance pressure, and a sports culture that values results over understanding, in denial of an existing law. In response, the AMAD, based on strict rules, has been tasked with implementing the national anti-doping policy, and it does so brilliantly. For it, mechanically applying rules without fine-tuned adaptation to local realities and without massive education isn’t enough. Sanctioning without educating treats symptoms while ignoring the disease. What needs to change now is no longer marginal correction: the system must be rethought. Concretely: - Mandate medical oversight in all clubs. - Create a national list of certified, controlled, and traceable supplements. - Systematically train young athletes and their coaches on substance risks. - Hold clubs and staff legally accountable, so they can no longer hide behind ignorance or good faith. And above all: drop the general hypocrisy and face reality. Morocco isn’t an isolated case. It’s simply at a turning point. What’s at play today is the shift from marginal doping to a systemic form, not organized, but diffuse, cultural, almost unconscious. Refusing to see it is accepting that a generation of young people will pay the price for this blindness. Doping isn’t just a matter of cheating. It’s a public health issue, and now, a matter of collective responsibility.

Motsepe, Tightrope Walker of African Football: Between Senegal and Morocco, Who is the True Winner of the 2025 AFCON? 8356

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Politics - Sports -
2.4 min read.
Patrice Motsepe's recent visit to Senegal and then Morocco was anything but casual or celebratory. Officially, it was a courtesy tour and follow-up on African football dossiers. Unofficially, it came amid simmering tensions over an explosive question: Who is the true winner of the 2025 AFCON? This edition left deep scars, with palpable disappointment already evident during the medal and trophy ceremony. Behind the forced smiles, a clear malaise: the title had been wrested by force. Recall: Morocco hosted an exemplary AFCON, filling CAF's coffers like never before, with sponsors galore, record attendance, unprecedented TV coverage, and elevated play thanks to unmatched infrastructure. But that ruffles feathers. Bitter jealousies and warning signs peaked in the final. Accustomed to the neighbor to the east's pathological provocations, Moroccans were stunned: the main saboteurs were their closest brothers, those they had welcomed most warmly, the Senegalese and Egyptians. In the final, spurred by an excitable coach, Senegal left the pitch over an unfounded refereeing controversy. Faced with certain facts, the act seems premeditated. Overheated Senegalese fans worsened the scene. What followed was a chaotic procedure. First, a disciplinary committee chaired by a Senegalese rejected Morocco's appeal, which challenged the result for non-compliance with regulations. It sanctioned minor on-field incidents while ignoring the blatant violation. Morocco overturned this verdict before the appeals jury, which restored the truth by applying CAF rules. Senegal, which had once benefited from a similar decision to qualify for the 2022 World Cup, only accepts refereeing that favors it. It rejected the ruling, issuing a state, not federal, statement accusing CAF of corruption. Implication: CAF corrupted, Morocco the corrupter. During his visits, then, Motsepe faced the inevitable: "Who is the 2025 AFCON winner?" In Senegal, his goal was clear: preserve ties with a continental football powerhouse. Facing President Bassirou Diomaye Faye, he reaffirmed CAF's respect for Senegalese institutions and their role in promoting African football, without mentioning corruption accusations, at least publicly. But the implicit message clearly aimed to curb Senegal's excessive defiant drift: heavy sanctions could follow otherwise. In Morocco, the tone shifted. True to form, Motsepe praised the Kingdom's structuring power. Facing the Royal Moroccan Football Federation and its president Fouzi Lekjaa, a CAF pillar and FIFA vice-president, he struck a laudatory note. Questioned on the sensitive issue, he found himself cornered: ruling would rekindle fractures. As CAF president, his role is to prevent a sports controversy from escalating into an institutional crisis. His hesitation reveals the complexity of a system where politics, symbolism, and sport intertwine. The AFCON is more than a competition: it's a lever for prestige and diplomacy, a field of regional rivalries. Morocco asserts itself as a football powerhouse through its performances, massive infrastructure investments generously shared with CAF and many African countries, academies like Mohammed VI's in Salé that export talent, and successful hosting of numerous men's and women's AFCONs. It is an indispensable CAF pillar. Motsepe's visit there felt like recognition, underscoring CAF's dependence on Morocco to advance African football. A constrained diplomacy is taking shape. These two stops expose, in practice, the limits of current African football governance: navigating political balances, economic stakes, and national ambitions on sight. Motsepe, a South African businessman turned sports executive, is no political finesse expert. His silence on the "true winner" reflects a reality: sporting truth often yields to diplomatic necessities. African football depends on states and their funding; alienating a country is suicidal. These two trips raise a crucial question: Does CAF remain a neutral body, or does it bow to its power centers? Senegal embodies sporting and historical legitimacy; Morocco adds investment and strategic vision. Motsepe implicitly maintains a fragile balance at the cost of silence and ambiguity. The crisis thus reveals the body's fragility. The tour won't settle the 2025 AFCON winner, that wasn't the goal, but it laid bare the strengths and especially the weaknesses of African football. A football that transcends the pitch. In this game, Motsepe is neither juggler nor dribbler: he is a tightrope walker. Yet he knows. He knows full well who will get the Cup and the $10 million that comes with it. He'll just avoid revealing it and getting booed. Thus, he'll remain welcome in both Senegal and Morocco. It's the CAS that will decide, not him... Coincidentally, FIFA has excluded Ndala, the "cursed" referee of the final who bore all the incompetence and excesses. A precursor sign before the Court of Arbitration for Sport's verdict?

The International Judo Federation should change its name and leave Judo alone 8689

Tariq Daouda, 2 mon.
- History - Lifestyle - Sports -
1.8 min read.
Judo has a deep tradition: the gentle way. Judo is an extremely refined and sophisticated system of wrestling based on a deep understanding of momentum, leverage and body mechanics. Judo has answers for any type of situations, any body types, any types of matching. This is fundemental to Judo and a hallmark of any true martial art, it transcends physical power and gives the lighter, weaker, shorter party a chance. But Judo goes beyond that, it's name literally means the "gentle way". It is a physical representation of the ideals and values of Judo values. The practice of true Judo provides not only ways of neutralizing stronger opponents, but also to do so in a way that is gentle and respectful. A good Judoka is in control of the situation, and through years of practice controls even the landing of the adversary, allowing him to exercise restraint and gentleness in what otherwise would be dangerously chaotic situations. In 2010 the IJF (the body controling Olympic Judo) probably dealt the biggest blow to Judo in Judo's history: they banned leg grabs. While historical bans of techniques have focused on safety. The justification for this one was that leg grabs made Judo look too much like wrestling, and made it less visually appealing. An absurd vain reason, leg grabs are fundementals of Judo, older than olympic wrestling, or even modern olympic games. Leg grabs are half of standing Judo, leg grabs are essential to meaningful counters. Leg grabs are essential when dealing with taller and heavier opponents. It is true that around that time going straight for the legs had become a staple of certain styles. Overshadowing sometimes the beautifully impressive throws unique to Judo. However, banning them is the less Judo answer imaginable. A total negation of Judo's philosophy and martial roots. Judo has answers to leg grabs, this was a beautiful opportunity to have Judo grow, become bigger and demonstrate its high versatility. Instead the IJF made Judo smaller. Yesterday, I realized that most of the current generation of Judokas has never seen a single leg grab. As a result, they constantly make mistakes, exposing themselves to major counters. Their movement vocabulary is severely reduced, they spend more time pushing and pulling than using momentum and balance. Their understanding of balance is off, they spend more time crouched and less time standing straight. A straighter stance being a hallmark of Judo and the way to most of Judo's spectacular throws. In summary the IJF decision completely backfired it made Judo less impressive, less interesting, more physical and more like wrestling: less gentle. This is probably the biggest betrayal to Judo's root and traditions. The saddest thing of all, modern Judokas are vulnerable in front of wrestlers, this never was the case before. Thankfully, leg grabs have be reinstated in competitions in Japan in a slightly limited way (no diving for the legs). The result is that Japanese competitions are the best and the exciting Judo competitions to watch. Another backfire to the IJf decision. After my yesterday's realization of the loss suffered by the latest Judoka generation. I believe that the IJF should change it's name. The IJF has invented a sport derived from Judo, but IJF-Judo, is not Judo.

Football: When Passion Kills the Game in Impunity and Tolerance.. 9779

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Society - Sports -
2.7 min read.
Football (Soccer for Americans) is first and foremost a matter of emotions. By its very essence, it is an open-air theater where human passions play out in their rawest, most primal form. It generates joy, anger, pride, humiliation, and a sense of belonging. From the stands of Camp Nou to those of the Diego Armando Maradona Stadium, through the fervor of the Mohamed V sport Complex in Casablanca, the vibrant enclosures of Stade Léopold Sédar Senghor in Dakar, or even the Parc des Princes in Paris, the Vélodrome In Marseille, and the Bernabeu In Madrid, football transcends the mere framework of the game to become a total social phenomenon. But this emotional intensity, which makes football's beauty, also constitutes its danger. For without rigorous regulation, it quickly tips into excess, then into violence. Today, it must be acknowledged that the rules exist, but they are too often circumvented, stripped of their substance, or applied with disconcerting leniency. On the pitches as in the stands, excesses are multiplying: insults toward referees, provocations between players, systematic challenges, physical violence, projectile throwing, pitch invasions, xenophobic remarks, racist offenses. What was once the exception is tending to become a tolerated norm. Astonishingly, we are starting to get used to it. Recent examples are telling. In Spain, in stadiums renowned for their football culture, racist chants continue to be belted out without shame, targeting players like Vinícius Júnior. Most recently, it was the Muslim community that was insulted. And yet, Spain's current football prodigy is Muslim. An overheated crowd that has doubtless forgotten it wasn't so long ago that it was Muslim itself. Among those chanting these remarks, and without a doubt, some still carry the genes of that recent past... In Dakar, just a few days ago, clashes escalated, turning a sports celebration into a scene of chaos. In Italy, incidents involving supporters who invaded the pitch, during a friendly match, no less, endangered players and officials, recalling the dark hours of European hooliganism in the 1980s. These episodes are not isolated; they reflect a worrying normalization of violence in and around stadiums. Even at the highest level of African football, behavioral excesses are becoming problematic. The 2025 Africa Cup of Nations final left a bitter taste. What should have been a moment of celebration for continental football was marred by behaviors contrary to sporting ethics. Pressures on refereeing, excessive challenges, and game interruptions have become commonplace. When a coach manipulates a match's rhythm to influence a refereeing decision, it is no longer strategy but a challenge to the very foundations of the sport. Despite international outrage, the sanctions imposed on teams, clubs, or players involved remain often symbolic, insufficient to eradicate these behaviors. A very surprising phenomenon: rarely have clubs or federations clearly distanced themselves from such crowds. They accommodate them, and when they condemn them, it is half-heartedly, in a muffled, timid tone with no effect. The problem is twofold. On one hand, disciplinary regulations exist but lack firmness. On the other, their application suffers from a lack of consistency and political courage. Bodies like FIFA, continental confederations, and national federations hesitate to impose truly dissuasive sanctions such as point deductions, prolonged closed-door matches, competition exclusions, or even administrative relegations. Yet without fear of sanction, the rule loses all effectiveness. It suffices to compare with other sports to measure the gap. In rugby, for example, respect for the referee is a cardinal value. The slightest challenge is immediately sanctioned. In athletics, a false start leads to immediate disqualification, no discussion. Football, meanwhile, still tolerates too many behaviors that should be unacceptable. This permissiveness has a cost. It undermines football's image, discourages some families from attending stadiums, and endangers the safety of the game's actors. More gravely, it paves the way for future tragedies. History has already taught us, through catastrophes like the Heysel Stadium disaster, that violence in stadiums can have tragic consequences. It is therefore urgent to react. Regulating football does not mean killing its soul, but rather preserving it. It is not about extinguishing passions, but channeling them. This requires strong measures, exemplary sanctions against offending clubs and players, accountability for national federations, increased use of technology to identify troublemakers, and above all, a clear political will from national and international governing bodies. Football cannot continue to be this "market of emotion" left to its own devices. For by tolerating the intolerable, it risks losing what makes its greatness and its ability to unite rather than divide. If FIFA does not decide to act firmly, the danger is real: that of seeing football sink into a spiral where violence triumphs over the game, and where, one day, tragedies exceed the mere framework of sport. The long-awaited decision of the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) in the 2025 AFCON final case should confirm rigor and integrity in the application of rules, at least at this level, thereby strengthening the credibility of the pan-African competition and football in general.

AFCON 2025: The Trophy that Sets the Savannah Ablaze.. 9107

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.4 min read.
There are moments when football stops being a game and becomes a brutal revealer of a continent's institutional and political fragilities. The current crisis surrounding the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) is the perfect illustration. Between the rigorous application of regulations, the credibility of the Confederation of African Football (CAF), media pressure, and reactions from the Senegalese Football Federation, the affair now extends far beyond sports into a much broader realm, intertwining law, sovereignty, and diplomacy. At its origin, a disciplinary decision that, under normal circumstances, would have been a simple sporting dispute. But the context, symbolism, and players involved have turned this file into a full-blown crisis. The CAF, as the regulatory body, faces a fundamental demand: to enforce its own rules without yielding to pressure. Any weakness in applying the law would open the door to widespread challenges to its authority, including revisiting past decisions and verdicts. In this sense, the decision taken, however contested, fits into a logic of institutional preservation. However, law, as essential as it is, cannot be entirely divorced from its political and emotional environment. Today's events provide perfect proof. The Senegalese side's reaction, perceived as an offense or challenge to the decision, reveals a deeper malaise: a sense of injustice, real or supposed, amplified by a public opinion whipped into a frenzy by a flood of increasingly belligerent statements and remarks. Social media, TV panels, and certain official discourses have turned a legal matter into a symbolic clash between nations. In response, the Royal Moroccan Football Federation remains silent, stoic, calm, and discreet. This is where the main danger lies. Beyond texts and procedures, it is historical relations, built over decades of solidarity and brotherhood, that are now exposed to unnecessary tension. African football, long presented as a vector of unity, risks here becoming a factor of division. And this drift, if not contained, could leave lasting scars. That's precisely what the occult forces, or not so occult, stoking the fire are aiming for. In this climate of escalation, the temptation is great for each side to harden its position. Yet, the history of sports conflicts shows that escalation is rarely a solution. It weakens institutions, undermines competition credibility, and, above all, distances the public from the essentials: fair and credible play. The central question then becomes: how far will this showdown go? A peaceful outcome necessarily requires a return to calm and reason. This does not mean renouncing one's rights or silencing disagreements, but framing them in a controlled manner. Appeal mechanisms exist, whether through direct sports jurisdictions or, if necessary, the international body that is the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). Its role is precisely to settle such disputes with impartiality and rigor. Awaiting the verdict from this body, even if it is slow, means accepting that law takes precedence over emotion. It also means recognizing that the credibility of African football's components depends on their ability to resolve disputes in line with the rules they have set for themselves. Any other path, pressure, excessive politicization, or media confrontation, would only entrench and worsen the crisis. At its core, this affair raises an essential question about the governance model for African football. A model subject to power plays and momentary emotions, or one based on solid, respected institutions capable of enforcing the law, even when it stings? Ultimately, African football bodies didn't fall from the sky. They are the emanation of a democratic process in which Africa's 54 countries participate in good conscience. The answer to this question will determine not only the outcome of this crisis but also the future of football on the continent. Beyond the present case, the credibility of an entire sports architecture is at stake. In the immediate term, one thing is clear: the time for appeasement must follow that of confrontation and escalation. Preserving the essentials and consolidating fraternity among African peoples is worth far more than a sports victory, even an Africa Cup of Nations trophy. Alas, this is beyond those whose vision doesn't extend past the end of their nose. The CAS will speak soon. Then we'll see who is right or wrong under strict application of the law, with no further recourse possible except a return to reason. Wouldn't it be better, in the meantime, to keep a cool head, maintain lucidity, and calm down? A trophy is only raised when it is deserved—truly deserved.

African Football: Between Emotional Populism and Institutional Order.. 8698

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Politics - Sports -
3.3 min read.
The CAF dealt the Senegal national football team an implacable administrative defeat, awarding a default victory to the Moroccan national team in the 2025 AFCON final. This sanction, rooted in the CAF's disciplinary regulations, punishes any abandonment of the pitch, even if temporary. At one point in the match, the Senegalese coach consciously decided to have his players leave the field. Only one remained on the pitch. Under football rules, a match requires at least seven players on the field to continue to its conclusion. Despite winning after a rollercoaster extra time, the team paid the price for blatant indiscipline: unleashed supporters, partial pitch invasion, assaults and injuries, prolonged interruption during which the players returned to the locker rooms on their coach's dramatic order. Forget the simplistic narrative of a "Morocco vs. Senegal" clash that some, particularly on the Senegalese side, push to imply political motives. Nothing could be further from the truth. The affair stems from an initial clash between the Royal Moroccan Football Federation (FRMF) and the CAF. The FRMF asked the CAF to apply its own rules and those of FIFA, questioning their non-enforcement. Recall that the Moroccan national team strictly followed the referee's directives, even resuming play alone on the pitch for 14 minutes while the Senegalese headed to the locker rooms. The question, then, is: why did the referee refrain from applying the rules? The answer lies in the CAF's backrooms. A "CAF official" allegedly ordered the referee to flout the rules and not sanction the team that left the pitch. The FRMF took the matter to the CAF's bodies, which referred it to its Disciplinary Committee, normally chaired by a Senegalese. For convenience's sake, this committee rejected the FRMF's request. Far from giving up, surprised by the decision, the FRMF appealed. In appeal, it is not members who decide, but independent judges selected across the continent. The ruling was unequivocal: applying the rules, the Moroccan national team is declared the 2025 AFCON winner. The dispute between the FRMF and the CAF thus ended. Up to this point, the matter is purely sporting. The Senegalese Football Federation (FSF), unhappy with the Appeal Jury's ruling and defending the on-pitch result, refers the case to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). Senegal does not merely contest the decision: it launches a frontal assault on regulatory sovereignty, legally demanding an international corruption probe into the bodies. It is the Senegalese government that responds to the CAF and escalates the case. To prove corruption, it will need to identify the corrupted party and the corrupter... Through its decision, the CAF prioritized law over on-pitch emotion—an emotion unfortunately fueled off-pitch by the stupidity of those who, for a few more followers or AdSense dollars, spread indescribable hatred between two brotherly peoples. This is not a Senegal-Morocco issue, but a sporting one between the FRMF and the CAF, and between the FSF and the CAF. Some reminders are in order for the instigators on both sides, without defending the CAF and its bodies, which will answer the corruption accusations. The CAF's regulatory fortress rests on three impregnable pillars, bolstered by these regulation excerpts: **WITHDRAWALS** **ARTICLE 82** If, for any reason, a team withdraws from the competition or fails to appear for a match, or refuses to play or leaves the pitch before the regulatory end of the match without the referee's authorization, it will be deemed to have lost and will be definitively eliminated from the ongoing competition. The same applies to teams previously disqualified by CAF decision. **ARTICLE 84** The team that breaches the provisions of Articles 82 and 83 will be definitively excluded from the competition. It loses the match 3-0. If the opposing team was leading by a more favorable score at the time of the match stoppage, that score will be maintained. Additional measures may be taken by the Organizing Committee. The three pillars underpinning the decision are thus: **Absolute compliance**: Article 82 defines any team withdrawal as abandonment, triggering automatic forfeit. The 14 Senegalese minutes fall squarely under it, without ambiguity. **Mechanical proportionality**: The sanction is not discretionary; it flows verbatim from the texts and is validated by CAS jurisprudence. **Institutional primacy**: The referee tolerated a de facto resumption under pressure, but the CAF holds the power to rule on discipline. What will the CAS say if it is indeed seized by the Senegalese side? Conservative by nature, the CAS never positions itself as a sports judge; it upholds bodies when rules are clear. As an inflexible guardian of stability, it will reject any Senegalese "symbolic legitimacy." To prevail, Senegal must outmaneuver: invoke a resumption invalidating the abandonment, a "disproportionate" sanction, or the "spirit of the game." Fragile ploy: the CAS has systematically dismissed such escapes when texts are explicit. Several African federations, including the FRMF in the 2015 AFCON affair, as well as various clubs and CAF-affiliated associations, have appealed to the CAS against sanctions for forfeits, withdrawals, or regulatory breaches. In these cases, the CAS has consistently favored a strict reading of applicable regulations, dismissing arguments based on force majeure or mitigating circumstances when texts provided for automatic sanctions. The affair's outcome will inevitably be the CAF's victory, confirming the Appeal Jury's judgment. The Senegalese forfeit will be upheld, the title confirmed for Morocco. Jurisprudence will emerge strengthened by the triumph of law, shielding future competitions from chaos. One slim surprise remains possible: a replay or revision if the CAS rules the abandonment was not definitive. But will it risk unprecedented instability by overriding such clear rules? This is not a matter of interpretation, but of pure rule application. The CAS will crown the CAF, exposing Senegal's precarious position. Far from a bilateral duel, this crisis pits rule respect against populist temptation. Law will prevail: the CAF will reaffirm its sovereignty, for an African football governed by legislation, not emotional riots. The 2025 AFCON, not confiscated, will mark the consolidation of a continental legal order.

Africa Cup of Nations 2025: When the Victim Becomes the Culprit... 9235

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Sports -
2.6 min read.
The reaction of Tunisian Hatem Trabelsi, former defender for Ajax Amsterdam and Manchester City, and a beIN consultant for several years, to the CAF Appeal Jury's decision, widely shared on social media, goes beyond mere sports commentary. It subtly reveals the narrative tensions, divergent perceptions, and symbolic stakes surrounding Morocco's successes in African football today. In his statement, Hatem Trabelsi highlights a classic phenomenon in African competitions under the Confederation of African Football (CAF): suspicion and discredit. Whatever the outcome, Morocco's victory seemed destined for contestation. If Brahim Díaz had scored, some would have cried arbitral error; if the Moroccan win had been decisive, it would have been labeled a "setup"; arising from a regulatory decision after the opponent's withdrawal, it becomes "proof of corruption." This critical lens isn't based solely on facts, but on a structural distrust of African sports institutions and their governance. It's the daily sport of Africans: nothing is accepted without suspicion, without accusations of corruption. Even presidential elections rarely escape it. The controversy actually exposes the narrative fractures generated by any decision, even the fairest. Over the past decade, Morocco has established itself as a central player in continental football. The kingdom has massively invested in infrastructure, training, and sports diplomacy. The results speak for themselves: Historic semi-final at the FIFA World Cup 2022. Multiplication of youth category titles. Regular hosting of African competitions. Growing appeal to binational players, like Brahim Díaz and many others. Morocco did it for itself, while naively believing it was good to share the benefits with the continent. Did the continent really want it? This rise fits into a broader soft power strategy, where sport becomes a lever for regional and international influence. But Morocco, the new power in African football, disturbs. Its success breeds jealousy and contestation. Trabelsi's point underscores an observed reality: success invites contestation. In an African football landscape historically marked by fluctuating balances between Egypt, Cameroon, Nigeria, and Senegal, the emergence of a structured, high-performing Morocco has sparked resistance. The Moroccan national team embodies a new dominance, built on sporting talent as much as organizational rigor, a transformation aligned with the country's overall trajectory. This fuels suspicious discourse, especially when refereeing or administrative decisions seem to favor it, rightly or wrongly. In the background, the controversy points to a deeper issue: the CAF's credibility. Recurrent accusations of favoritism, "backroom deals," or opaque governance don't target just Morocco, but the entire system. It's the narrative cultivated by one or two African countries to which nothing succeeds. As the African is too often consigned to the role of perennial victim, this discourse finds fertile ground to impose itself as reality. In this context, every decision becomes controversial, amplified by social media, press, and statements from governments, federations, or opportunists seeking visibility. Victimization, a recurrent sentiment in Africa, turns the slightest incident, or any decision, into a prism of suspicion. Trabelsi's outburst isn't just support for Morocco; he himself knows the kingdom doesn't need it. It highlights a battle of narratives around contemporary African football: between sporting merit and political suspicions, national pride and regional solidarities. Morocco, the rising power, finds itself at the heart of these tensions. As often in sports history, success is measured not only in trophies, but in the ability to impose a legitimate narrative. The real challenge for African football isn't designating a winner, but restoring collective trust in the rules of the game. Beyond the match, a battle of narratives is underway, where institutional credibility is the Gordian knot. The bad faith of some is evident. In a barely veiled attempt to poison relations between two peoples bound by centuries of brotherhood, a certain gaucho-Parisian press has launched a sordid discredit campaign, exploiting the weakness of the Moroccan national narrative, not for lack of content or relevance, but for its naivety in believing that good faith always prevails. Recent history proves otherwise. Those who long tormented Morocco for reclaiming part of its territory are the same ones howling on their sets or blackening paper, fueling a narrative aimed at harming the kingdom and sowing doubt about everything it undertakes. This won't stop; preparation is needed, especially after the 2026 World Cup. This is how to interpret Trabelsi's just and inspired words: it's time to build a Moroccan national narrative on national soil, without waiting for others, from abroad, to impose it through hatred and discredit. Today, Morocco outpaces its closest neighbors, which bothers them, enrages them, even drives them mad. The truth is they're profound hypogiaphobes, dreading their responsibilities to their own peoples. As for the 2025 AFCON, in two months, no one will talk about it anymore. It will boil down to a second well-deserved star on the Moroccan jersey, a sign that the CAF has come to its senses and will now apply its own rules.

CAF: The End of Ambiguities, Return of the Rules... 9817

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Sports -
1.7 min read.
The recent decision by the CAF Appeal Jury marks a major turning point in African football governance. Beyond the specific case of the 2025 AFCON final between Morocco and Senegal, a profound institutional evolution seems to be taking shape: that of a CAF finally aligned, without complacency, with FIFA's normative standards. **A Legally Grounded and Assumed Decision** In its official statement, the Appeal Jury annulled the first-instance decision and declared Senegal forfeit, in strict application of articles 82 and 84 of the competition regulations. The match is thus homologated with a 3-0 score in favor of Morocco. The central point is crystal clear: the Senegalese team's behavior, particularly leaving the pitch without authorization, constitutes a clear violation of the disciplinary rules. These provisions allow no political or emotional interpretation: they mechanically impose the forfeit sanction. By validating this strict reading, the CAF breaks with a long-criticized practice: a sometimes hesitant, even accommodating, management of contentious situations. **The End of a Culture of Exception** For years, African football has suffered from a structural ailment: inconsistency in applying regulations. Some decisions seemed driven more by political balances than by the letter of the law. Yet, in this case, the Appeal Jury did exactly the opposite: It acknowledged the rules violation; it legally reclassified the facts; and it automatically applied the prescribed sanction. This triad is precisely what underpins the credibility of major international sports institutions, starting with FIFA. This is therefore not just a sporting decision: it is an assertion of authority. A strong signal for African football governance. This decision comes at a time when the CAF is under increasing scrutiny, particularly after several disputes brought before the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS), which have sometimes highlighted inconsistencies or weaknesses in rule application. By returning to a strict reading of its own texts, the CAF sends several messages: To federations: regulations are non-negotiable. To players and staff: anti-sportsmanlike behavior will have immediate consequences. To the international community: African football fully embraces the global rule of law in sport. **A Balanced and Credible Decision** Notably, the Appeal Jury did not limit itself to ruling in Morocco's favor. It also confirmed certain responsibilities on the Moroccan side, particularly regarding peripheral incidents (ball boys, laser use), while adjusting the sanctions. This point is essential: it bolsters the decision's credibility. Strong sports justice is not partisan justice, but coherent justice. **Towards a New Era of Rigor?** This verdict could set a precedent. It reminds us that African football can no longer afford ambiguities at a time when economic stakes are exploding, international visibility is growing, and governance standards are becoming universal. Alignment with FIFA rules is not an option: it is a necessity for the credibility of African competitions. A truly salutary break. By strictly applying its regulations, without yielding to pressure or political considerations, the CAF sends a long-awaited signal. This is not simply one team's victory over another. It is the victory of law over arbitrariness. And perhaps, finally, the beginning of a stronger, fairer, and more respected CAF.

Walid Regragui: A Demonstration of Moroccan Competence... 10936

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- History - Society - Sports -
2.7 min read.
Sometimes, we witness a rare moment when a man, a team, and a nation converge to write a page of history. They leave a lasting mark on collective memory and redefine our perception of our own capabilities. Having been both a participant and observer, I am perhaps better positioned than others to gauge its significance and depth. The Moroccan national team's epic at the Qatar World Cup undoubtedly belongs to this category. And at its heart stands one man: Walid Regragui. When he was appointed Morocco's head coach in August 2022, just three months before the World Cup, the national team's situation was uncertain. The previous coach had bluntly stated: "You don't have a team for the World Cup." The atmosphere around the squad was tense, with questions about group cohesion and doubts over its ability to compete with football's giants. Many thought we'd make a quick trip to Doha and head home. In just a few weeks, Regragui achieved what few coaches accomplish in years: rebuilding a cohesive unit, restoring confidence, and giving the national team a clear identity it had never had before. The results exceeded all expectations. The man appointed somewhat by default, somewhat by chance, simply stunned the world. At that World Cup, Morocco made history. The Atlas Lions topped their group ahead of Croatia and Belgium. In the round of 16, they eliminated Spain after an intense tactical battle decided on penalties. In the quarterfinals, they beat Portugal, and how! A tactical masterclass for Regragui and his squad. They became the first African nation to reach the semifinals. We couldn't even have dreamed it. This performance cemented Morocco's place in world football history. Such heights aren't reached by chance. It takes profound depth. This marked the start of a series of achievements, vindicating a royal vision launched when the Sovereign inaugurated the Mohammed VI Football Academy. But beyond the historic fourth-place finish, the epic's impact was immense. It transformed the international image of Moroccan football. Above all, it sparked a huge wave of pride across Morocco, Africa, and the Arab world. This success wasn't just sporting; it was deeply symbolic. Walid Regragui's journey first illustrates the rise of Moroccan talent. A former international who wore Morocco's colors for over a decade, he built a solid coaching career. His continental triumph with Wydad Athletic Club in the 2022 CAF Champions League was a major milestone. His contribution went beyond trophies. Regragui imposed a clear vision of play and human management. In a squad of players from Europe's top leagues: Spain, France, England, Italy, he forged remarkable unity with unyielding attacking power. He also leveraged the dual culture of many Moroccan internationals, turning diversity into collective strength. Tactically, his team stood out with rigorous defensive organization. Under his leadership, Morocco became one of the world's stingiest defenses, conceding few goals against the most fearsome attacks. But what truly impressed observers was the human dimension of his leadership. Regragui forged a direct bond between the national team and its public. Through simple, sincere, often emotional communication, he made fans feel the team truly belonged to them—to the point where public "interventionism" grew intrusive toward the end, irritating and hurting him. In a country where trust in national talent has often been debated, the Regragui experience is a shining demonstration. It proves Moroccan competence exists, can handle the biggest challenges, and excels at the highest level when trust is in place. In this sense, the 2022 epic transcends football. It bolstered collective confidence in our abilities. It reminded us Morocco can produce talent, not just players, but coaches, leaders, and sports executives. The Moroccan coaches trusted by the federation all overperformed. Morocco became a football powerhouse thanks to Sektoui, Amouta, Sellami, Baha, Dguig, Chiba, and of course, Mohamed Ouahbi. For those of us who devoted our lives to building national sport, this message is vital. Sports development isn't just about infrastructure, budgets, or competitions. It hinges, perhaps above all, on trusting our own competence. In months, Walid Regragui embodied that trust. He showed a Moroccan coach could lead at the world stage, face football's elite, and make history in the planet's most prestigious tournament. For all these reasons, his work deserves recognition and respect, just like that of the coaches who, alongside me, elevated Morocco to the top of world athletics rankings: Kada, Ouajou, Ayachi, Boutayeb, Sahere, Bouihiri, and others. Beyond results and stats, Regragui will be remembered as the man who made millions of Moroccans believe, during that World Cup and beyond, that anything was possible. In sport as in nations' lives, such moments are precious. They remind us collective success often starts with a simple conviction: belief in ourselves. For what he brought to Moroccan football, the image he gave our country, and the inspiration for future coaches and sports leaders, it's only right to say today, sincerely and gratefully: Thank you, Walid. I had the privilege of handing him his first "Best Coach of the Year" trophy. He had just won the title with FUS.

Patrice Motsepe: A CAF Presidency Undermined by Opacity and Conflicts of Interest... 10975

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
Elected in March 2021 to head the Confederation of African Football (CAF) during the General Assembly held in Rabat, Morocco, or should we remind you?, South African billionaire Patrice Motsepe promised a radical break from a past riddled with scandals and mismanagement. Absolute transparency, financial rigor, modernization of practices: these were the hallmarks of his campaign. Four years later, those commitments ring hollow. The institution languishes between smooth reform rhetoric and glaring opacities, amid internal tensions, refereeing controversies, and recurring suspicions of collusion between power and personal interests. The businessman's profile lies at the heart of a blatant conflict of interest. Owner of the South African club Mamelodi Sundowns, which he has entrusted to his son with FIFA's approval, Motsepe embodies the image of a thriving "corporate" manager, backed by colossal financial capital and international connections. But this profile reveals a major flaw: the virtually nonexistent boundary between his CAF presidency and his private interests. The CAF oversees the awarding of Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) tournaments, interclub competitions, and World Cup qualifiers, wielding immense power over Africa's 54 federations. Motsepe thus navigates an ecosystem where every decision can favor his economic alliances or his club. This porosity fuels doubts: does he primarily serve African football, or is he consolidating a network of opaque personal influences for his business gain? The CAF is no ordinary administrative body. It generates hundreds of millions of viewers per AFCON, negotiating with governments, broadcasters, and sponsors. Yet under Motsepe, sports diplomacy remains a minefield of murky alliances, where decisions seem dictated by political balances and criteria tied to the president himself. His style increasingly relies on governance by ambiguity, masking inaction with a "strategy of permanent consensus." Structural decisions are endlessly deferred; signals of listening, profuse compliments, and radiant smiles everywhere conceal deliberate indifference. Federations, zonal unions, partners, and politicians struggle to grasp the man or discern any genuine policy for development and fairness. The result: chronic inability to decide. Refereeing controversies, organizational disputes, and contested awards pile up without public clarifications. Commissions are seized, reports announced... but nothing concrete or educational emerges. This technico-political dilution perpetuates opacity, shielding the presidency from direct accountability. In short, a facade of democracy and a dilution of reckoning. On paper, the Executive Committee, specialized commissions, and statutory votes promise modern governance. In practice, these bodies serve as a smokescreen. By referring sensitive files to commissions, Motsepe positions himself "above the fray," invoking "collective responsibility" to dodge criticism. His goal: emerge unscathed from every scandal or misstep, and there are many. No one is identifiable, no one is held accountable. Such a culture of impunity is incompatible with a serious sports institution, especially when the president combines private business with executive power. He keeps both the cabbage and the goat safe. Since 2021, fragilities have exploded: administrative tensions, complaints against executives, internal probes into mismanagement. The case of Secretary General Véron Mosengo-Omba, involving a Swiss investigation and internal audits, exemplifies this amateurism. The CAF touts a compliance department and "zero tolerance," but responses remain minimal: laconic press releases, no detailed public reports. No catharsis, no acknowledgment of flaws, no lessons learned or imposed reforms. Suspicions persist, fueled by presumed ties between the presidency and economic interests. This scandal highlights enduring opacities, where crises are handled in a closed circle, stoking doubts about governance and equity. Administratively, the CAF survives: competitions launched, sponsors reassured. But on the ground, the fiasco is evident. Vague rules, non-independent refereeing: these ills breed resentment among aggrieved federations, furious clubs, and disillusioned fans. The latest statement from the head of refereeing perfectly illustrates the situation following the scandal of the last AFCON final. This structural instability undermines the commercial and sporting credibility of continental football. The facade of balance conceals real frustrations; leadership is seen everywhere as complicit in the regrettable status quo. Motsepe has the network and influence to reform. Instead, his obsession with compromise preserves balances at the expense of the rupture promised in Rabat in March 2021: codifying transparency, publishing decisions, strictly framing conflicts of interest, starting with his own. By placating all sides, he satisfies none, nurturing toxic distrust. A deliberate behavior. In globalized football, where trust equals revenue, this drifting presidency risks costing Africa dearly. *Let's connect this to what happened in Morocco. The Kingdom promises grand things to Africa and delivers. It is rewarded in the worst way: its party is ruined, with no respect for the country, its efforts, or football itself. A pitiful image of African football circles the world. The responsible person, the one who must decide, remains indifferent as usual in such situations.* What does Motsepe do? He expresses discontent and promises reforms. More hollow promises. Has he truly kept a single one since 2021? Here too, he keeps the cabbage and the goat: business oblige, he sympathizes with Morocco, and everyone knows why, but says nothing about what must be done. He sails in his obsessive neutrality. He has still managed to disgust Moroccan citizens—and not only them. Many now demand turning their backs on the CAF. **A majority protests no longer want the Women's AFCON in Morocco or other competitions on national soil. Motsepe's response: the Women's AFCON will take place as scheduled. Some read this as a threat...** Moroccans are kind, welcoming, generous, *but above all not naive.* They are fed up with the man's and his institution's hypocrisy, and demand justice. He responds half-heartedly: "Go to the CAS if you want justice..." The lack of courage is blatant. The CAF under Motsepe is adrift.

AFCON’s Transition to a Quadrennial Cycle: Between Global Prestige and Endogenous Development 10920

Imad Khater, 4 mon.
The structural landscape of African continental football is currently navigating a period of significant strategic turbulence. At the heart of the discourse lies the proposed shift of the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) from a biennial to a quadrennial frequency. This is far from a mere scheduling adjustment; it represents a profound reconfiguration of the continent’s sports political economy. This transition, oscillating between a desire for alignment with international standards and the preservation of regional specificities, raises a pivotal question: is CAF embarking on a vital modernization, or is it yielding to globalized hegemonic pressures? The Economics of Scarcity: Pursuing the "Premium" Model Proponents of a four-year cycle primarily argue through the logic of asset appreciation via scarcity. Until now, the biennial frequency—while generating consistent cash flow—has tended to dilute the competition’s symbolic and commercial prestige. By opting for an extended cycle, CAF is adopting a "premiumization" strategy modeled after the UEFA Euros or the FIFA World Cup. The Moroccan experience serves as a clear precedent: it demonstrated that top-tier infrastructure, coupled with sophisticated marketing engineering, can capture global investment far more effectively than a succession of editions with inconsistent standards. The objective is to transform a recurring event into a historical landmark, thereby driving up international broadcasting bids and attracting blue-chip commercial partners. Sports Diplomacy and Talent Emancipation The second pillar of this reform is inextricably linked to the power dynamics with European football. The biennial calendar has long been a theater of conflicting loyalties for athletes. For the continent’s elite players, departing mid-season posed a systemic risk to their physical integrity and remained a constant source of friction with their clubs. An AFCON held every four years, ideally synchronized with global summer windows, would serve as a diplomatic de-escalation tool. Players would no longer be perceived as a "liability" or an uncertainty by European scouts during transfer windows, thus bolstering their market value and securing their ascent within the global elite without scheduling impediments. The Downside: Historical Inertia and Structural Depletion However, a comprehensive analysis must account for the risks this shift poses to the continent’s internal dynamics. The Specter of Invisibility and Stalled Progression: In a biennial system, failing to qualify is merely a temporary setback. Under a quadrennial rhythm, missing a single edition condemns a nation to an eight-year absence. For a generation of talent, this often means an entire international career spent without the exposure of a major tournament. Furthermore, this slowdown freezes the record books; dominant nations see their hegemony "sanctified" by time, making it nearly impossible for emerging nations to bridge the historical gap within a human timeframe. Impact on Development and Solidarity: Historically, AFCON has functioned in Africa as a catalyst for public infrastructure projects (stadiums, roads, telecommunications). Spacing out the tournaments inevitably slows this pace of modernization. Moreover, the biennial frequency allowed CAF to redistribute vital funds more regularly to "smaller" federations. A four-year cycle risks drying up these financial flows, which are essential for the survival of grassroots football in less affluent countries, potentially widening the chasm between major nations and the rest. The Shadow of FIFA: Toward a Globalized Order In reality, this mutation aligns with a vision driven by Zurich. FIFA’s role in this transition is decisive, operating through three main levers: Calendar Harmonization: FIFA is pushing for a cycle mirrored on the European model to mitigate friction with employing clubs. Financial Substitution: Through the "FIFA Forward" program, the global body is replacing the event-based financial dependence of African federations with a direct institutional dependence. Format Diversification: Support for new competitions, such as an African Nations League, aims to fill the commercial void left by the AFCON’s spacing, maintaining the continent under permanent structural oversight. The Gamble of Qualitative Sovereignty Ultimately, the move to a four-year cycle is a bold bet on quality over quantity. While this choice may appear as a concession to European leagues and FIFA pressure, it also represents a necessary move upmarket to solidify CAF’s global credibility. However, for this revolution to succeed, Africa must transform the record-breaking revenues of a "Premium" AFCON into robust financial equalization mechanisms. The stakes are critical: ensuring that the excellence of the sporting showcase does not result in the abandonment of local foundations or the marginalization of the continent's most vulnerable footballing nations.

When Compliments Turn Suspicious: Morocco Doesn't Need FIFA's Praises... 10036

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
The recent statement from the FIFA president praising Morocco for its football development might, at first glance, seem like legitimate recognition of the Kingdom's efforts. Modern infrastructure, successful organization of major events, continental and World Cup performances, seven finals won out of ten played: Morocco has indeed established itself as a central player in African and global football. But behind this flattering discourse, a disturbing question arises: who really benefits from this communication operation, and what is it trying to make us forget? No one can seriously dispute the progress made by Moroccan football in recent years. Structured training centers, massive public investments in stadiums and academies, a continental outreach strategy, organization of CAF competitions and soon FIFA ones: Morocco has become a model often cited in Africa. Yet, it is precisely because these advances are real that they don't need to be buried under layers of dithyrambic discourse. Sporting and structural merit is measured on the pitch, in the stands, in governance not in opportunistic declarations. When the FIFA president multiplies praises, he doesn't just "recognize" progress; he also tries to shape public perception, frame the narrative to his advantage, turning a political and economic relationship into a consensual success story. The timing of these statements is not neutral. They come amid a climate still charged by the incidents during the CAN final, events that deeply shocked Moroccan public opinion and left a sense of injustice and frustration. Yet, in response to these, the CAF and by extension, the politico-sporting ecosystem it belongs to gave answers deemed at best lax, ambiguous, even unjust and complacent. In this context, FIFA's effusive compliments ring like an attempt at "psychological crowd management": stroking egos to help the bitter pill go down. It reminds Morocco that it is an essential partner, admired, "exemplary," hoping the positive emotion from recognition will erase the resentment from how certain files were handled in Africa. Moroccans expect institutions to be exemplary, as Morocco has been sufficiently so. This kind of excessive discourse also creates fertile ground for envy, if not jealousy, on a continent where sporting rivalries are often amplified by political stakes. By recurrently placing Morocco on a public pedestal, FIFA inevitably stirs the sensitivities of neighbors or regional competitors, fueling belligerent actions on and off the pitch under the guise of healthy competition. Rather than easing tensions, these praises exacerbate divides, turning football into a geopolitical battlefield. This type of strategy is not new: when sports institutions are called out, they rarely respond with self-questioning or transparency, preferring communication, storytelling, subtle flattery, and symbolism. Morocco then becomes less a country to respect than a public to calm, an actor to appease with words, without necessarily taking actions that would truly restore trust. In essence, the president's statement commits to nothing. It costs little, repairs nothing, and corrects no dysfunction. It doesn't revisit the controversial handling of the CAN final, question responsibilities, or propose improvements to decision-making or sanction mechanisms. It simply celebrates Morocco as a "good student" in world football, without daring to confront the system's dark spots. This speech is thus devoid of real political weight. It resembles a symbolic gift offered to the Moroccan public to better divert attention from more sensitive questions: the credibility of governing bodies, the fairness of decisions, power dynamics within the CAF and FIFA, and how certain states are favored or penalized based on interests beyond the strictly sporting realm. Didn't Morocco deserve the Doha final? In other words, Morocco is given a compliment meant to soothe, while what its supporters, leaders, and football actors expect are concrete actions, clarifications, and truly fair, transparent treatment. This type of communication also reveals a paternalistic view of African public opinions. As if a football-passionate people could be reassured or "bought" with a few flattering phrases, as if addressing an emotional mass ready to forget serious incidents as soon as a flattering image is reflected back. Yet, the Moroccan public today is informed, connected, politicized in its relationship to football. It understands governance stakes, spots inconsistencies, dissects suspicious decisions. It knows the difference between sincere recognition and a communication ploy aimed at cushioning a shock or protecting an institution's image. It is not gullible. By continuing to favor flattery over responsibility, football's major institutions maintain a disconnect with the maturity of supporters. They persist in believing a compliment suffices to make people forget an injustice, that a handshake will erase a humiliation witnessed live by millions of viewers. Moroccan football does not demand praises: it wants respect, respect for rules, procedures, commitments, equity, and transparency principles. For FIFA to recognize its development is a reality, almost a given. But this recognition only makes sense if paired with coherent behavior when Morocco, or any other country, suffers damaging incidents, especially in major competitions like the CAN. An institution's true value is measured less by what it says in calm times than by what it does in moments of crisis. As long as responses to serious incidents remain timid, ambiguous, or lax, fiery declarations about the "Moroccan example" will ring hollow. Morocco has no need for inconsequential compliments. What it demands, like all peoples who take sport seriously, is football governance worthy of its sacrifices, investments, and passion. Words fade; decisions endure. And it is on those that FIFA and the CAF will be judged.

Between Stadiums That Withstand and Cities That Drown… What Image Do We Want for Sporting Morocco? 8886

Dr Charrat mohammed rochd, 4 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
1.5 min read.
The image Morocco has projected in organizing major continental football events in recent years has been genuinely impressive. Modern stadiums, advanced sports infrastructure, and a level of organization that earned widespread praise—especially during matches played under heavy rain without any impact on pitch quality or the flow of the games. It felt as though the Kingdom was offering Africa a masterclass in readiness, sending a clear message: Morocco has become a serious sporting and organizational power. But on the other side of the picture, the floods in the city of Ksar El Kebir forced us to confront uncomfortable questions. How is it that sports facilities can withstand heavy rainfall with such professionalism, while entire neighborhoods end up underwater? How do we make sense of this stark contrast between stadiums equipped with cutting-edge drainage systems and cities whose infrastructure remains fragile in the face of intense downpours? Today, sport is no longer just about results on the pitch. It has become a showcase for nations—a mirror of their ability to plan and manage. Investing in stadiums is undoubtedly important, especially with major ambitions such as hosting the Africa Cup of Nations and preparing for even larger global events. But a country’s image is not built solely within the walls of sports complexes. The fan applauding flawless organization inside the stadium may be the very same citizen struggling outside with flooded streets and overwhelmed sewage systems. The paradox is painful: advanced rainwater drainage technologies beneath football pitches, while real drainage failures persist in some urban areas. This contradiction raises questions about priorities—not to diminish the value of sporting achievements, but to broaden the meaning of success. Effective sports organization should be an extension of a strong urban system, not a modern island surrounded by fragile surroundings. What happened in Ksar El Kebir should not be dismissed as a passing incident caused merely by exceptional rainfall. It should be read as a warning bell. If we are capable of building world-class stadiums in record time, we are certainly capable of modernizing sewage and drainage networks in cities vulnerable to flooding. The technical expertise exists, the know-how is there; the real challenge lies in applying the same urgency and rigor to projects that affect citizens’ daily lives. Morocco’s sporting ambitions are significant, its aspirations legitimate, and its international image important. But the most powerful image will emerge when our success in organizing matches under heavy rain becomes a natural reflection of cities that can also withstand storms without losses or suffering. Only then will we be looking at a truly coherent development model: one that shines not only under stadium lights and television cameras, but also protects people on the ground in real life.

We Must Save the African Games... 8886

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
Let it be quickly noted that the title is not mine but the one chosen by David Ojong, Secretary General of the Cameroonian Olympic and Sports Committee, for a book he has just published and which is available on Amazon. David Ojong, a dear friend, honored me by asking me to write the postface for this book, which he recently presented at a solemn event in Yaoundé. Along with David and many others, we share the conviction that the African Games, the continent's flagship event, are in peril. Faced with deep structural, institutional, and cultural challenges, they struggle to fulfill their original mission: to unite Africa around Olympic values enriched with a distinct identity. In his book, the author advocates for a renovation of the African Games by clearly posing the question of what role for ACNOA in continental sports leadership?* Today, the Games are torn between the African Union, supported by an organization lacking stature or competence: the UCSA (Union of African Sports Confederations) and ACNOA (the Association of African Olympic Committees), which itself displays chronic weakness. In this particularly African context, David Ojong provides a lucid assessment of the situation and proposes concrete pathways for renewal. This major contribution challenges all actors in the African sports movement, from the African Union to the Association of African National Olympic Committees (ACNOA), amid institutional tensions that dangerously undermine the event. He highlights the latent frictions among stakeholders. ACNOA, meant to play a pivotal role, suffers from flawed governance that erodes the regularity and quality of the Games. Past editions have revealed recurring issues: organizational delays, lack of stable funding, and poorly managed competition with other continental bodies. The author analyzes these dysfunctions through a rigorous methodological framework, legal, sociopolitical, and comparative, to demonstrate that without profound restructuring, the Games risk losing their luster and disappearing altogether. At the heart of these challenges lies leadership. ACNOA must strategically reposition itself, assuming a strong coordination role. Ojong advocates integrating traditional African sports to reconcile the event with its cultural roots and boost its appeal. This approach is no gimmick; it aims to transform the Games into a platform for soft power, promoting African unity on the international stage, including an innovative proposal: creating AOSA. Faced with these challenges, the author advances a bold idea: the creation of an African Olympic and Sports Association (AOSA). This new entity would bring together all vital forcesO, lympic Committees, African Confederations via CASOL (Association of African Confederations of Olympic Sports, recently created under the presidency of Hamad Kalkaba Malboum, president of the African Athletics Confederation), states, and international partners, in an inclusive and forward-looking vision. AOSA would enable unified governance, free from petty quarrels, and pave the way for optimal athlete preparation with known and fixed timelines for the Games. In this context, ACNOA must support African athletes in their preparation to enable a more impactful and effective African participation in the Olympic Games. This vision aligns with proven, low-cost pragmatic initiatives. As I argued in the book's postface, ACNOA should invest in specialized training groups housed in African sports centers. Funded by Olympic Solidarity, these programs would fill the gap left by under-resourced clubs, universities, and federations, especially in the continent's least favored countries. The result? Enhanced performances at the Olympic Games and a daily ACNOA presence among African youth, fostering sustainable development through sport. The book is, in essence, a plea for the future of African sport. Beyond the technical aspects, David Ojong issues a passionate call to all the continent's vital forces for greater vision and seriousness. The African Games are more than a competition; they embody identity-building, an economic and social lever. In a world where regional specificities are gaining recognition, Africa must forge innovative sports leadership. Ojong asks the right questions: How to turn tensions into synergies? How to mobilize Olympic funds for continental excellence? This book is not an end in itself but a starting point. It invites decision-makers, leaders, researchers, and athletes to constructive dialogue. Through his rigor and passion, David Ojong charts a clear path. It is up to the African sports community to follow it, so that the Games once again become the radiant mirror of our dynamism and unity. The renewal of the African Games is a strategic imperative for Africa: David Ojong's call for unified, representative, and effective leadership comes at the perfect time given their current lamentable state.

AFCON 2025: When Realpolitik and Institutional Influence Overpower the Rule of Law 9152

Imad Khater, 4 mon.
The ruling issued by CAF on January 29, 2026, regarding the tumultuous conclusion of the Morocco-Senegal final, transcends mere sporting arbitration. It signals the emergence of a structural denial of justice where Realpolitik has effectively superseded codified norms. By delivering this verdict of convenience, CAF has squandered a pivotal historical opportunity. Legal recourse through the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) now stands as the sole remaining avenue to restore the primacy of law over political maneuvering. This step is essential to transform a denial of justice into a redemptive legislative precedent, capable of dismantling the impunity of those who believe they can subvert the system through "pitch-side sedition." Tactical Obstruction and the Legal Grey Zone Contrary to the radical interpretations circulated in the heat of the moment, the Senegalese squad never executed an irreversible physical withdrawal from the field. By remaining within the technical perimeter, the actors de facto neutralized the application of Article 82 of the CAF regulations. However, this technical distinction does not diminish the gravity of the events. We witnessed a strategic "hostage-taking" of the match. By instrumentalizing the pitch's grey zones, Senegal exerted overwhelming psychological and administrative pressure on the officiating crew, paralyzing the natural flow of the game. This "perimeter sedition" constitutes a major breach of sporting ethics: a manifestation of "might makes right" rather than the rule of law. By validating this conduct, CAF has effectively sanctioned the threat of withdrawal as a legitimate negotiating lever during a match. The Urgency of a Sui Generis Disciplinary Framework The current continental sporting law is trapped in an obsolete binarism: a match is either played or abandoned. In the face of such systemic obstruction, the existing legal regime resembles a "tree bearing bitter fruit." It is now imperative to establish a specific offense of obstruction. The law cannot remain silent when a team saturates the technical space to freeze the clock and coerce a favorable outcome. Future reforms must focus on intentionality: any refusal to resume play, even if the team remains on the sidelines, should result in an automatic forfeit. Without this "scientization" of sanctions, African football is condemned to permanent legal insecurity. Institutional "Entrisme" and the Shadow of Hard Power Analysis reveals a glaring asymmetry of power. While Morocco has invested in contributory "Soft Power," Senegal appears to have secured judicial "Hard Power." It is now evident that the Senegalese Federation is deeply embedded within the inner sanctums of CAF. The presence of a national figure at the helm of the Disciplinary Committee—notwithstanding any formal recusal—creates an insurmountable structural bias. This "Solomonic justice"—sacrificing a fuse (the coach) to protect the institution (the trophy)—is a calculated maneuver of Realpolitik designed to appease a federation whose institutional influence now dictates the tempo of verdicts at the expense of equity. The Referee’s Report: A Veil for Incompetence The Disciplinary Committee has retreated into willful blindness by relying exclusively on the reports of referees and officials, disregarding material, chronometric, and video evidence. The "Judge and Party" Conflict: The referee, whose loss of authority was the primary catalyst for the chaos, cannot be considered a legitimate or objective narrator of the facts. Administrative Distortion: By relying on these often laconic or biased minutes, the Commission deliberately prioritized administrative finality over the reality of the pitch. This creates a vicious cycle where officials are shielded to avoid applying the full rigor of the law against the champion. Conclusion: From Influence to Modernity For months, a complacent media narrative attempted to portray Fouzi Lekjaa as the "demiurge" of CAF. However, this verdict demonstrates that real power lies elsewhere. By prioritizing political stability over legal rigor, CAF has undermined its own credibility. Morocco, guided by the strategic vision of His Majesty the King, must now act as the champion of institutional modernity. A referral to the CAS is not merely a protest; it is a necessity to break the cycle of impunity and ensure that no entity can hijack the system through political leverage.

Africa of Narratives: The Media Silence That Handicaps Rabat... 9251

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
The press is never neutral and never will be.It doesn't just report facts: it ranks them, amplifies them, or stifles them. In Africa, where the battle for influence plays out as much in newsrooms as in chancelleries, media power is a central indicator of real leadership. In this game, the comparison between Morocco and Senegal, judged by the facts recorded during the CAN final, is brutal. It's a textbook case. It highlights a disturbing truth: Morocco acts massively across the continent but speaks little or goes unheard, while Senegal, with more limited means, imposes its voice. Senegal boasts an age-old media capital, forged by history, a culture of debate, and a press that has never fully abandoned its critical role. Dakar remains a nerve center for francophone African discourse. Its media transform a national event into a continental issue, a local controversy into a pan-African debate. They master the art of storytelling: giving meaning, creating emotion, shaping opinion. A quick look at *Le Soleil*, the historic state newspaper and circulation leader, or *Walfadjri*, a powerful, conservative, and critical group, is enough to gauge its reach. **Morocco presents a striking paradox. The country invests, finances, builds, trains, and advances by giant strides. It promotes win-win partnerships, positions itself as a major player in African development, and claims a deep continental strategic footprint. Yet this ambition runs up against a glaring weakness: the absence of a Moroccan press that is audible and influential on the African scale. Moroccan media abound, sometimes technically proficient, but remain confined to internal dialogue. Africa often appears there as diplomatic scenery, rarely as a living space for debate.** This shortfall carries a heavy political cost. Without powerful relays, the Moroccan narrative, when it exists—struggles to take hold. Its successes go unnoticed, its positions are poorly understood, its silences interpreted as admissions of weakness or lack of humility. While others seize the space, Morocco lets the battle for perceptions slip away. In Africa, those who don't tell their own story accept others telling it for them, with their biases and lies when bad faith enters the mix. The Sahara affair demonstrated this for decades, with persistent residues: the neighbor's narrative took root in many minds, peddling falsehoods, historical distortions, even geographical falsehoods. This absence of voice is also reflected in the silence of the elites. Moroccan ministers are discreet, if not absent, from African airwaves. Ambassadors shy away from major continental debates. Moroccan experts are invisible in pan-African media: Morocco is present physically and materially, but absent narratively. In contrast, Senegalese figures, political, diplomatic, or intellectual, flood the regional media space. They explain, justify, challenge, fully aware that influence is built through public discourse. Football, too often reduced to mere spectacle by shortsighted decision-makers, brutally exposes these imbalances. A heavy defeat can remain a minor incident or become a political and symbolic event. When a sports fact circulates in Africa, it's not the score that strikes but how it's told, commented on, debated. Things may go well on the pitch; what matters is the media narrative. The sanctions from the Confederation of African Football (CAF) confirm this reality. Their impact goes beyond sport: they become subjects of debate, tools of pressure, levers of influence. Where some media amplify, contextualize, and politicize the event, others suffer it, whine without convincing. Morocco too often adopts this defensive posture, lacking a press capable of imposing its reading of the facts and a solid narrative. Today, the impression prevails that the continent has ganged up against the Kingdom, seen as a corrupter of the system and absolute master of the CAF. In reality, we are far, very far from that. Yet try convincing a young African otherwise: some even view the sanctions against Senegal as unfair. *The problem is not quantitative but strategic. Morocco doesn't lack media; it lacks an African vision. Few correspondents on the continent, weak multilingual presence, absence of pan-African platforms: so many handicaps in a hyper-connected Africa. Add to that an editorial caution that stifles debate, while influence arises from clashing ideas.* The diagnosis is irrefutable. Morocco cannot sustainably claim a central role in Africa without investing the media field. It needs offensive, credible media capable of speaking to* Africa and with*Africa;* visible, assertive voices present in controversies and substantive debates. Modern power is no longer measured solely in kilometers of highways, banks, or signed agreements, but in the ability to impose a narrative. **Morocco must never forget the all-out war waged against it, including in the media. It must integrate this as a core component of its African policy.** As long as it leaves this terrain to others, those who, jealous and insecure, bet on disinformation, slander, and lies, its ambitions will remain fragile at best. **Good faith never wins alone: it advances alongside bad faith.** It's the swiftest, most composed, most persuasive, the one that hits back, that triumphs in the end.

Enough is Enough, Mr. Motsepe... 8368

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
Letter to Mr. Patrice Motsepe, President of the Confederation of African Football, in response to his statement following the decision of your disciplinary commission. No, Mr. President, you cannot shift onto a host country, in this case, Morocco, the burden of the CAF's chronic weaknesses and the hesitant governance of its disciplinary bodies. By endorsing sanctions perceived as harsh toward Morocco, while sparing those who spoiled a final meant to be the crowning glory of the 2025 AFCON, your discourse on "integrity" and "the image of African football" comes across less as a moral awakening than as a convenient reversal of responsibilities. It is not Morocco that has undermined the CAF's credibility: it is the decisions, the unspoken issues, the legal contradictions, and the off-kilter communication surrounding this dossier. Morocco is not an ordinary defendant before the CAF; it is one of its main pillars. While others shy away from organizational, logistical, and security demands, it is the Kingdom that opens its stadiums, airports, hotels, and cities to competitions that many refuse to risk hosting. The 2025 AFCON mobilized infrastructure upgraded at forced march, nine stadiums meeting international standards, smooth logistics, and security that was widely praised, delivering a tournament that no one disputes on organizational grounds. To now tell this same country that it must also absorb the symbolic and sporting bill for the CAF's regulatory inconsistencies is to punish the very actor who contributed most to the event's success. When Morocco is sanctioned, it is not just federation officials who are targeted; it is millions of Moroccans who feel aggrieved. They filled the stadiums, showcased the country's hospitality, turned this AFCON into a showcase for the continent—only to see their national team, already honored with a fair play award, caught up in a verdict deemed "incomprehensible" even in the international press. How do you explain to these citizens that an exemplary host country, organizationally speaking, is treated with such severity, while the legal qualification of the Senegalese team's temporary withdrawal or other behaviors that disrupted the final seems to have been handled with calculated leniency? The question at hand is one of coherence and proportionality. Many observers, including jurists and former CAF officials, highlight the inconsistencies in a decision where the displayed severity toward Morocco is not matched by equally firm and transparent treatment of all parties involved. The suspensions of Moroccan players and the fines imposed on the FRMF pile onto the rejection of the claim based on articles 82 and 84, while the handling of the opponent's behavior and the incidents that led to the match interruption, injuries to valiant stadium staff, and vandalized equipment leaves a sense of unfinished business. This imbalance fuels the perception that the CAF sought a "political balance" rather than clear sporting justice. Your statements, Mr. President, do announce a reform of the Disciplinary Code, more "appropriate and dissuasive" sanctions, and a commitment to protecting the integrity of African football. Your words thus confirm that what occurred during the final warrants heavy reprimand. Defending the integrity of African football should logically have started there, given the facts that the whole world deemed scandalous—except for your disciplinary commission, which openly encourages indiscipline. To millions of Moroccans, who have invested billions of dirhams in their infrastructure and staked their international image just a few years from a co-hosted 2030 World Cup, this sudden clarity comes too late and feels like a catch-up operation. Trust is not rebuilt with abstract promises, but with decisions that convey equal treatment, rigorous application of the rules, and respect for the sacrifices made by host countries. In reality, what is at stake goes far beyond a mere disciplinary dispute: it is the moral contract between the CAF and its most committed members that is in question. When a country that takes risks to host your competitions feels turned into a scapegoat to mask your own failings, the relationship turns toxic. And if Morocco were to say to you today: enough is enough. It cannot, it must not, pay for the legal ambiguities, political hesitations, and faltering governance of a confederation that hides behind the "independence" of its bodies while refusing to fully own the consequences of its choices. The CAF, under your leadership, has just taken another step toward perfidy against its star pupils, as if those working for the development of African football disturb someone somewhere... Are we not right in the midst of the red poppy syndrome, the one that stands out above the rest in the field? Yes, we are, Mr. President. Those who resent others' success because they cannot replicate it at home have triumphed. They threatened. They were heard. Morocco disturbs with its development, its unparalleled achievements, its diplomatic victories, its success in organizing and the quality it offered your confederation. It pays the price. The price of the naivety it has shown.

CAF Sanctions: Disciplinary Justice with Variable Geometry? 8225

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
The decisions by the Confederation of African Football (CAF) Disciplinary Commission regarding the incidents that marred the CAN final between Senegal and Morocco are now known. They were awaited, scrutinized, sometimes feared. But beyond their mere announcement, it is their **coherence, proportionality, and equity** that raise questions today. At first glance, the CAF sought to strike hard, giving the impression of sanctioning both parties to preserve a posture of balance. The CAF simply forgot that at its core, the conflict was squarely between Senegal and the referee, not with the Moroccan team, and thus, in the end, pitted Senegal against this very same CAF, responsible for the organization and officiating. Senegal and Morocco have thus, according to the commission's logic, presided over by a Senegalese, let us recall, been sanctioned to varying degrees. Yet, a close reading of the facts, confronted with the very content of the decisions rendered, reveals an **asymmetry that is hard to justify** between the severity of the acts observed and the weight of the sanctions imposed. The ridiculous is not far off. The central problem, namely, the officiating, has simply been swept aside. The most troubling element undoubtedly lies in the **total absence of any reference to the referee** in the Commission's ruling. As if he had never existed. Yet, the images and testimonies align: in the final moments, the referee displayed **manifest irresponsibility**. How can one justify resuming play when the minimum safety conditions were clearly not met? The stadium had been invaded by official Senegalese supporters, equipment had been vandalized, and tensions were at a boiling point. In such circumstances, the rules are clear: absolute priority must be given to the safety of players, officials, and the public. By ignoring this dimension, the Disciplinary Commission misses an **essential link in the chain of responsibilities**. They are, however, clearly identified. This is not to fully exonerate the Moroccan side. Reprehensible behaviors existed, and some hot-headed reactions could have been avoided. But the nature and gravity of these acts remain **incommensurable** with those attributable to the Senegalese delegation and its immediate environment. The most striking example remains the sanction imposed on Achraf Hakimi. Reproaching him for attempting to remove a towel belonging to the Senegalese goalkeeper—an object that, incidentally, had no business on the pitch—smacks more of a **search for artificial balance** than rigorous application of disciplinary principles. Can one seriously equate this gesture with outbursts involving pitch invasions and infrastructure damage? This harms the image of world football, beyond just African football. The inclusion of such an amalgam in the dossier and the proportionality of the sanctions are manifestly debatable. It is precisely on the terrain of proportionality that the CAF's decision falters. The sanctions imposed on the Moroccan camp appear **relatively heavy** given the facts reproached to them, especially when compared to those concerning the Senegalese side, which was linked to structurally far graver incidents. This disproportion undermines the narrative of those in Senegal and elsewhere who decried Morocco's supposed "stranglehold" on CAF bodies. If such influence truly existed, how to explain that Morocco itself ends up heavily sanctioned? Where is this alleged institutional protection when the disciplinary decisions, on the contrary, seem applied with particular rigor against it? One can only regret the missed opportunity for the CAF to show a new face of power and justice. The CAF Disciplinary Commission squandered a precious chance: to **clarify responsibilities, reaffirm the central role of officiating, and lay credible foundations** for managing crises in African competitions. By opting for punitive symmetry rather than a fine analysis of the facts, it perpetuates unease, fuels suspicions, and leaves the game's actors—players, officials, and fans, in a gray zone where perceived injustice becomes more damaging than the sanction itself. African football deserves better than disciplinary justice with variable geometry. It deserves an authority capable of owning its choices, naming responsibilities where they truly lie, and protecting the essentials: the integrity of the game and the safety of those who bring it to life. Today, some chuckle under their breath for escaping truly proportional sanctions for their misdeeds; others are stunned; still others conclude the immaturity of this African body, like other continental instances. A pitiful image for a continent whose youth aspires to development and a bright future, with football and footballers as role models. Has African football missed the chance to set an example? Did the CAF issue the wrong communiqué or target the wrong match? In any case, there is one clear winner slipping under the radar: the party at the origin of it all. Like a fugitive, the commission released its statement at an impossible hour... Funny, no? One wonders whether to hold out hope and pursue the process further, or resign oneself to admitting there is no hope for a just and credible African football body.

Najib Salmi, a Conscience Fades, a Legacy Endures 8038

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- History - Society - Sports -
2.4 min read.
Najib Salmi has passed away, and with him closes one of the most beautiful chapters of Moroccan sports journalism. But beyond the collective tribute, it's also an intimate page of my own life as a columnist, colleague, and friend that turns. He leaves behind an immense professional legacy and, above all, an indelible human imprint. He was undoubtedly the greatest pen in Moroccan sports for decades. For over forty years, Najib Salmi embodied a certain idea of sports journalism, one that was demanding and responsible. In fact, he founded a school of sports journalism, having stumbled into it somewhat by chance and grown to love it. A central figure at the daily *L’Opinion*, where he directed the sports page, he marked generations of readers, especially through his cult column "Les points sur les i" (*Dotting the i's*), a rare space where freedom of tone blended with intellectual rigor and a sense of the public interest. He was an institution in himself. He belonged to that generation for which sports journalism was neither empty entertainment nor a echo chamber for blind passions, but an act of public service. At a time when Moroccan sports was entering the era of professionalization, money, and excessive media coverage, his pen knew how to denounce excesses, pinpoint responsibilities, and salute, with the same honesty, real progress and achievements when they were genuine. Najib Salmi was not just a great columnist; he was also a builder. At the helm of the Moroccan Association of Sports Press from 1993 to 2009, he fought for the profession's recognition, the defense of its ethics, and the dignity of those who practice it. He helped embed Moroccan sports journalism in regional and international bodies, earning credibility through seriousness and consistency. Wasn't it at a congress he organized in Marrakech that our friend Gianni Merlo was elected president of AIPS? Wasn't it he alone who headlined young prodigy Said Aouita after he set a new national 1500m record? He rightly predicted that Aouita would go far. He was the unwavering supporter of generations of great athletes. He attended every world championship and Olympic Games. He supported me too, with strength and determination. A man of principles, discreet but inflexible on essentials, he believed that respect for the reader and the truthfulness of information were non-negotiable. This moral uprightness, rare in an environment often subject to pressures and interests, earned him recognition from his peers as a true school of sports journalism. Abdellatif Semlali, the legendary Minister of Youth and Sports and his friend, delighted in calling him "Monsieur à côté" (*The Man on the Side*). He truly was. He never fit anyone else's mold, even during a brief stint at *Le Matin du Sahara*, then masterfully directed by Moulay Ahmed Alaoui. For me, Najib Salmi was more than a professional reference; he was a friend, a brother, and a mentor. It was thanks to his trust that I was able to write for years in *L’Opinion*'s sports pages, learning the craft day by day, line by line, under his attentive and benevolent gaze, enduring his mood swings and, above all, his corrections to style and syntax. He passed on to me more than writing techniques: a vision of what a column should be, rooted in integrity, thorough groundwork, and a rejection of shortcuts. Even today, if I continue to write, it's also because that inner voice he helped instill remains, the one that reminds us not to betray sport, the reader, or the truth. Najib Salmi passed away at the age of 78, after a long battle with illness, leaving an immense void in the newsrooms of *L’Opinion* and *Challenge*, to which he contributed with strength and diligence. He leaves a huge void in the hearts of all who crossed his path. He will rest in the Chouhada Cemetery in Rabat, where he himself had accompanied so many other friends, acquaintances, loved ones, and colleagues, and many who grew up under the benevolent shadow of his pen. May God welcome him in His mercy. To the friend, the brother, the master who showed me the way, I can say only one thing: thank you, Najib, for the delightful moments shared, for the words, the lessons, and the example. Readers will miss Najib Salmi; the family, the inner circle, and I will bury Said Hejaj. Said Hejaj departs peacefully to rest. Najib Salmi will live on in history.

From Passion to Meaning: The CAN as a Test of Truth for Africanity... 7961

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
The Royal Cabinet's communiqué, published on January 22, 2026, following the CAN 2025 brilliantly hosted by Morocco, combines a call for calm after the Senegalese withdrawal episode with a celebration of an organizational success hailed across Africa and beyond. Through a measured and forward-looking tone, it transforms a sports tension into a demonstration of responsible continental leadership, faithful to a long-term vision for a united and prosperous Africa. Through the tone and content of the royal message, we understand that once the passion subsides, inter-African fraternity will naturally prevail: Morocco's success is also Africa's success. The CAN 2025 confirmed Morocco's ability to turn a continental tournament into a lever for development and influence. The smooth organization, modernized infrastructure, massive influx of supporters, and revitalization of key sectors such as tourism, transport, commerce, and services generated billions of dirhams in returns and around 100,000 direct and indirect jobs, with over 3,000 companies mobilized and some 500,000 supporters transported by Royal Air Maroc. The royal message places this success within a broader trajectory: that of a "great African country" which, in twenty-four months, has gained the equivalent of a decade of development in infrastructure and expertise, in service of its people and its continent. Without overlooking the "unfortunate" nature of the incidents in the Morocco-Senegal final, the communiqué opts for elevation over controversy. By recalling that once the passion has calmed, "inter-African fraternity will naturally prevail," it offers a mature reading of collective emotions and emphasizes that the Moroccan people "know how to put things in perspective" and reject resentment. The sports defeat thus turns into a symbolic and diplomatic victory: "hostile designs" and denigration are neutralized by strategic consistency, self-confidence, and the Kingdom's African anchoring. The Moroccan public in the stadium witnessed a grotesque tragedy, deliberately and premeditatedly staged, but was not fooled. They quickly understood, kept their calm and composure despite being deeply wounded. A noted and remarkable behavior that honors them and honors the Kingdom. In practice, as in history, Morocco-Senegal relations are imbued with a consolidated fraternity, strengthened on every occasion. The royal message thus takes on particular significance toward this brother country, with which relations are described as "exceptional and strategic," founded on shared memory, assumed African solidarity, deep religious fraternity, and strong economic convergences. The holding, on January 26 and 27 in Rabat, of the 15th Morocco-Senegal Joint High Commission, accompanied by an economic forum, gives concrete content to this resilient fraternity by relaunching investments, joint projects, and South-South cooperation in service of the two peoples and, by extension, all those in the region. Beyond the finalists, the communiqué addresses all African peoples by recalling that "nothing can alter the proximity cultivated over centuries" nor the "fruitful cooperation" forged with countries on the continent. It situates the CAN 2025 within a long-term strategy: capitalizing on intangible capital made of trust, visibility, and credibility, and using it as a springboard toward upcoming events, notably the 2030 World Cup, in an Africa that assumes its place on the world stage, seeks to establish it through continuity, and consolidate it. In this spirit, it is essential to reject deviations, racism, hate speech, media or ideological manipulations, from tarnishing our Africanity or denying its profound dignity. Being African means first sharing a geography, a history, cultures, struggles, and a common destiny, beyond borders, sports results, or political contingencies. We are not condemned to reproduce stupidity and hostility; on the contrary, we have the collective responsibility to make public space a place of encounter, listening, and fraternization, where intelligence, unconditional respect for human dignity, and curiosity about the other prevail over insult and stigmatization. In the straight line of the royal message, this CAN must remain a reminder: our African future will not be built in hatred or by imitating the worst reflexes, but in the ability to transform tensions into learning, competitions into bridges, and disagreements into opportunities for dialogue. We are Africans, together, through memory and through the future, and it is this shared consciousness that can make our stadiums, our cities, and our debates spaces of elevation rather than scenes of division. Attempts at destabilization orchestrated by some may, at best, cloud the horizon for the duration of a competition, but they cannot sustainably embed themselves in the consciousness of peoples. As facts emerge, they turn against their authors, now exposed to the world's gaze, unable to indefinitely mask their failures, the poverty of their mindset, and the pettiness of their designs. Where manipulation exhausts itself, truth always ends up prevailing, and with it the dignity of nations that bet on construction, fraternity, and the future rather than on intrigue and division.

African Football’s Leading Force: The Moroccan Model Amidst Regional Headwinds 7818

Imad Khater, 4 mon.
The curtain fell on AFCON 2025, leaving a trail of striking contrasts. While the event confirmed the Kingdom’s supremacy as a world-class logistical hub, the tensions witnessed during the final on January 18, 2026, in Rabat, served as a stark reminder of the contingencies still weighing on continental football. Between the seamlessness of the infrastructure and the archaic nature of certain disciplinary attitudes, a fundamental question emerges: how will the transition from CAF’s regulatory framework to that of FIFA in 2030 reshape the management of these organic crises? This shift represents more than a mere scaling up; it is a true paradigmatic rupture where technocratic neutrality will serve to sanctify Moroccan excellence. I. Moroccan Excellence: A Technological Showcase for Africa The massive investment deployed by the Kingdom—ranging from the deep modernization of sports complexes to the systemic integration of VAR—presented the world with the image of a modern, rigorous, and visionary Morocco. This material success, lauded by international observers, aimed to establish an African benchmark. However, this pursuit of perfection encountered a persistent psychological phenomenon: the "host country complex." In this configuration, organizational mastery is sometimes perceived by competitors not as shared progress, but as a lever of dominance, mechanically fueling theories of favoritism. The events of the final illustrate this at its peak. The disallowed goal for Ismaïla Sarr and the late-match penalty became, through the lens of regional suspicion, instruments of controversy rather than technically grounded officiating decisions. Yet, data from DM Sport reveals the opposite: Morocco was among the most penalized teams in the tournament. This discrepancy highlights a major flaw: technology is insufficient to validate a result unless it is protected by a jurisdictional authority perceived as exogenous. II. Solidary Leadership and the Diplomacy of Resentment It would be erroneous, however, to view this quest for excellence as a desire for isolation. On the contrary, Morocco maintains deep and unwavering historical ties with the majority of its sister nations across the continent. Faithful to its African roots, the Kingdom continues to actively promote continental football within CAF, offering its infrastructure and expertise to federations seeking professionalization. This "open-hand" policy ensures that Moroccan success translates into success for all of Africa. Nevertheless, such leadership breeds friction. A "diplomacy of resentment" has emerged from certain foreign media spheres—particularly in specific Arab and African countries—aiming to tarnish the prestige of the Moroccan organization. By framing Morocco as a favored "ogre," these narratives attempt to transform factual superiority into moral injustice. This media harassment specifically targets the emergence of a governance model that now aligns with the most demanding global standards. III. The Advent of "Cold Justice": Legal Sanctification The transition to FIFA’s aegis in 2030 will signal the end of the geographical proximity that fosters such smear campaigns. Unlike the continental framework, the globalization of officiating bodies will dismantle zonal rivalries. Where CAF must often navigate between diplomatic compromise and sporting imperatives, FIFA deploys a "cold justice"—purely procedural in nature. The chaos observed in Rabat would meet a surgical response in 2030. Article 10 of the FIFA Disciplinary Code is unequivocal: any refusal to resume play results in an automatic forfeit and severe sanctions. In 2030, the rule of law will act as a protective cleaver for the host, rendering victimhood narratives obsolete. IV. Technology and the "2030 Bloc": Toward an Indisputable Truth The 2030 edition, spearheaded by the Morocco-Spain-Portugal trio, will benefit from total judgment automation (Shadow VAR, semi-automated offside) and absolute transparency. The FIFA Hosting Agreement will prevail as a superior norm, guaranteeing impartiality. This legal framework will serve as a shield, preventing disciplinary incidents from being politically instrumentalized against the Kingdom. AFCON 2025 was a successful demonstration of organizational strength for Morocco, confirming its role as the driving force of African football. However, it also revealed that excellence remains vulnerable to peripheral noise. In 2030, the definitive anchoring in FIFA law will allow the Kingdom to transform its organizational prowess into a lasting institutional legacy. Sport, finally shielded from geopolitical dross, will align with the strategic vision of a Morocco turned toward the universal, making the rule of law the bedrock of its global legitimacy.

AFCON 2025: When Morocco Believes in Itself and in Africa.. 8797

Aziz Daouda, 5 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
3.2 min read.
In 1961, John F.Kennedy issued an immortal challenge to Americans: "Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country." This call to individual responsibility helped forge a collective mindset rooted in civic engagement and self-transcendence. Contemporary America still bears the imprint of this philosophy in many ways. Decades later, Barack Obama rallied crowds with "Yes we can," a cry of unity and collective determination, while Donald Trump popularized "Make America Great Again," a slogan of national rebirth. These formulas are more than mere words: they crystallize moments when a people rediscover themselves, mobilize, and project toward the future. A kind of regeneration for a power afraid of falling, a way to revitalize a nation prone to forgetting itself or resting on its laurels? Morocco has also known this grammar of national mobilization. The late Hassan II forcefully reminded in one of his speeches: "We will only achieve this goal by translating nationalism into citizenship and by moving national consciousness from mere love for the homeland to effective engagement in building a Morocco that is a source of pride for all Moroccans." A founding vision: loving Morocco is not enough; it must be built. In the same spirit, His Majesty King Mohammed VI stated, on the occasion of the 2019 Throne Day, that "Morocco belongs to all Moroccans because it is our common home," calling on each to contribute to its construction, its development, as well as to the preservation of its unity, security, and stability. More recently, on the 2024 Throne Day, the Sovereign again emphasized the need to "pool the efforts of all Moroccans" and appealed to their patriotism as well as to their sense of individual and collective responsibility. A message that resonates, in Moroccan style, like a national "Yes we can," aimed at overcoming socio-economic challenges and consolidating achievements. **AFCON 2025: A Revealer of National Confidence.** It is in this context that Morocco experienced a major turning point with the organization of the 2025 Africa Cup of Nations. Well before kickoff, the AFCON was already acting as a powerful revealer: a revealer of the level of development achieved by the Kingdom, but also of the renewed confidence of Moroccans in their collective capacities. The international competition hosted by Morocco demonstrated unparalleled capacity: modern stadiums meeting the most demanding standards, extensive highway networks, efficient rail hubs, increasingly clean and organized cities, civility widely praised by visitors. Casablanca, Rabat, Tangier, Marrakech, or Agadir as examples only, embody this Morocco that advances, invests, and projects toward a bright future. These progresses are not the fruit of chance. They result from a strategic vision driven by His Majesty King Mohammed VI and translated into structuring investments: more than 2,000 km of highways built since the early 2000s, the Tanger Med port complex becoming a global reference in transshipment, or an ambitious energy policy aiming for over 52% renewable energies in the national mix by 2030. Thus, AFCON 2025 crowns a long-term process, not just a one-off flash. **Resilience, Solidarity, and International Credibility.** Even before the sporting event, the Al Haouz earthquake in September 2023 had already highlighted the resilience of the Moroccan nation. Faced with a major human tragedy, spontaneous solidarity—mass collections, citizen volunteering, mobilization of institutions, and the state's rapid intervention under royal impetus—demonstrated the strength of the national bond. The ongoing reconstruction has reinforced the conviction that Morocco knows how to face adversity. At the same time, macroeconomic indicators attest to an overall positive trajectory: gradual improvement in GDP per capita over the medium term, rise of sectors like automotive, aeronautics, and green energies, affirmation of the Kingdom as a central diplomatic actor in Africa. This international credibility, sometimes a source of regional tensions or criticisms, above all confirms that Morocco has crossed a strategic threshold. **A Success That Calls for More Engagement.** But this success is not an end in itself. It calls for more individual and collective efforts, more mutual trust between citizens, businesses, and institutions. More than ever, the question posed by Kennedy remains relevant: "What am I doing for my country?" Every Moroccan, at their level, is called upon. This dynamic rests on a common denominator: solidarity, extended by work, innovation, and responsibility. It translates into local initiatives, the rise of tech hubs in Casablanca, Rabat, or Tangier, investment in human capital, and adherence to the New Development Model, which aims for a more inclusive, more productive Morocco, better positioned in the global economy. **An Assumed African Ambition.** AFCON 2025 must also be understood as a moment of African fraternity. Morocco has affirmed its continental vocation there: to pull upward, share experience, strengthen South-South partnerships and economic interdependencies. Security, climate, social, and economic challenges are common; responses must be too. Morocco's destiny is inseparable from that of Africa, and Africa's depends on Morocco as well. A prosperous Morocco is an excellent locomotive for the rest of the continent, especially in the region. Sterile criticisms and entrenched or passing jealousies never withstand the seriousness of work, the constancy of effort, and the clarity of vision for long. Only the countries that advance, invest, and unite endure. **A Clear Mission.** The mission is now crystal clear: persevere, aim higher, stronger, and more united, under the leadership of His Majesty King Mohammed VI. Not by copying imported slogans, but by innovating, assuming our singularity, and confidently occupying the place that is naturally Morocco's on the global chessboard. Yes, "Yes we can," Moroccan style. Let us build together a stronger Morocco and a more confident Africa, not through denigration or sterile comparison, but through work, complementarity, and collective engagement. The world advances and waits for no one. Morocco has understood this. It is now up to each to choose: join this movement or stay on the sidelines of History. There will always be football cups.

Morocco Facing the Red Poppy Syndrome: When Success Becomes a Target... 8642

Aziz Daouda, 5 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.5 min read.
We often speak of the "red poppy syndrome," or *Tall Poppy Syndrome* in English. This is a sociological and cultural theory according to which, in certain groups or societies, those who outperform others, succeed too much, or stand out excessively are criticized, belittled, or "cut down" to preserve a semblance of equality within the group. In short, success disturbs and becomes detrimental to those who lack it. Efforts are then made in all directions to at least denigrate and gossip about those who excel. The metaphor comes precisely from the idea that, in a field of poppies, those that grow taller than the others are cut down to keep the field uniform. The red poppy syndrome thus refers to this well-known mechanism by which success that is too visible calls not for emulation, but for the will to bring it down by any means necessary. On the African regional scale, Morocco today provides the clearest illustration. Not because it proclaims itself a model, but because its achievements impose themselves, provoking tensions, jealousies, and obstructionist strategies. In essence, a Morocco that disturbs because it succeeds. In recent years, the Kingdom has relentlessly accumulated transformative successes: active African diplomacy, high-quality infrastructure, especially world-class sports facilities, recognized organizational credibility, and sports results that are no longer exceptions but the norm. This dynamic, far from rallying others around the country, has awakened in certain regional actors an obsession with systematic contestation, without scruple or limit. The hosting of the Africa Cup of Nations in Morocco should have been celebrated as a moment of continental unity and collective African success. Instead, for its detractors, it turned into a battlefield for sabotage aimed less at the event itself than at the host country. The neighborhood is not unrelated to this evident strategy of indirect sabotage that anyone can verify. In this context, it would be naive not to see the role played by Algeria, locked in a rivalry with Morocco that has become almost doctrinal. Unable to compete on the field of performance, Algiers has long shifted the battle to the terrain of discreditation, suspicion, and peripheral agitation. Failing to prevent the awarding or holding of the competition, the strategy consisted of polluting its narrative environment: questioning fairness, sowing doubt about refereeing, insinuating collusions, manufacturing suspicion where facts resist. A classic method: when you can't cut down the poppy, you try to tarnish its color. And since it always finds support among some, ideologized media relays have perfectly taken up the baton. This enterprise would not have had the same reach without the active involvement of certain ideologically aligned French journalists, often from circles marked by long-standing hostility toward Morocco and its monarchy. Throughout the competition, a segment of this so-called "progressive" press poured out venom in the form of insinuations, kangaroo courts, and barely veiled accusations against the Royal Moroccan Football Federation and its leaders, if not the Moroccan state itself. Investigative journalism here gave way to disguised activism, where suspicion substitutes for proof and Moroccan success becomes, by principle, suspect. This treatment was neither neutral nor innocent: it was part of a delegitimization strategy, carefully maintained. By ricochet, certain African complicities emerged, and recycled frustrations became uninhibited. Even more concerning, attitudes from some African officials or leaders have fueled this toxic climate. Untimely statements, outrageous contestations, misplaced victimhood postures: so many elements that gave the impression that sports frustrations were recycled into political accusations, in disregard of sports ethics. Whether conscious instrumentalization or mere opportunism, the result is the same: an attempt to weaken Morocco by voices supposed to embody the spirit of African fraternity. But despite everything, the maneuver failed and is turning against its instigators. For reality is stubborn. The Africa Cup of Nations in Morocco was a resounding organizational, popular, financial, media, economic, and sporting success. African fans, delegations, and honest observers saw and experienced it. Suspicion campaigns did not mask the essential: Morocco delivered what it promised. In the end, this episode reveals a simple and disturbing truth: the problem is not that Morocco wins, organizes, and advances. The problem, for some, is that it does so too well, too visibly, too sustainably while they fail to do so. And in an African field of poppies, those who relentlessly try to cut down the one that stands out often end up revealing their own inability to grow. The beautiful poppy will continue to grow... especially since it has been well watered by abundant rain. Thank God. As for the Cups, there will be plenty more opportunities to lift them...

The Rabat Aporia: Anatomy of a Procedural Collapse – The 2025 AFCON Final Fiasco 8196

Imad Khater, 5 mon.
- Society - Sports -
2.6 min read.
The final chapter of the 2025 Africa Cup of Nations, pitting Morocco against Senegal in the heart of the capital, will not merely be remembered as a high-octane athletic duel. Instead, it has evolved into a definitive case study of institutional gridlock. Caught in the friction between IFAB’s Laws of the Game and the labyrinthine CAF Disciplinary Code, the incident of January 18th at the Moulay Abdellah Stadium transcends a simple disciplinary spat. It exposes a legal "gray zone" where procedure faltered alongside authority, revealing a seismic rift where subjective interpretation overrode the strictures of normative alignment. I. The Materiality of Facts: The Engineering of "Passive Resistance" Contrary to the inflammatory narratives that spread in the heat of the moment, the Senegalese squad never executed an irreversible physical withdrawal from the field of play. While there were visible inclinations toward the touchline—acting as a symbolic defiance of the officiating crew—the players remained within the technical perimeter. This effectively neutralized the immediate trigger of Article 82 of the CAF regulations. Legally, this distinction is paramount: we are not dealing with a forfeiture by abandonment, but rather a state of tactical paralysis. This maneuver appears to stem from a sophisticated instrumentalization of the rulebook, designed to occupy a space that freezes administrative sanctions. By exploiting the ambiguity between vehement protest and outright insubordination, the bench utilized the boundary lines as a strategic lever, sidestepping irreversible penalties in favor of a more pliable disciplinary framework. II. Procedural Flaws and the "Suspect Celerity" of Officiating The match’s conclusion witnessed a manifest erosion of the official’s sovereignty, underscored by two critical departures from international standards. The crux of the dispute—and the inherent weakness of any future sanction—lies in the officiating body’s management of the temporal dimension. Both IFAB directives and the CAF Disciplinary Code mandate a stringent protocol of diligence before any declaration of forfeiture: Encroachment of Technical Zones: Under Law 12, the intrusion of staff members onto the pitch should have triggered a wave of dismissals. This inertia cannot be dismissed as a mere lapse in judgment; it represents a fundamental breach of the match’s legal security. The Overlooked Notice Period: An official is required to grant a legal window for reflection—typically five to ten minutes—to allow the captain to restore order. In Rabat, this timeframe was either ignored or, at the very least, improperly formalized. By failing to explicitly notify the captain—the sole sui generis interlocutor on the pitch—that the formal "default clock" had started, the referee created a state of manifest legal insecurity. The procedural error here is twofold. By failing to formally summon the players to resume within the allotted time, the referee denied the opposing federation the chance to comply with the rules. One cannot hand down a sentence as final as a forfeiture (a 3-0 loss) without scrupulously following the "procedural roadmap" of the crisis. This indecisive haste transforms the incident into a processual failure. The chaos in Rabat was not solely the work of defiant players, but of an officiating team that failed to enforce the temporal framework dictated by international norms. The Enigma of Law 14: The decisive penalty, marred by a blatant early movement by the goalkeeper, imperatively required a VAR-led retake. Referee Jean-Jacques Ndala’s decision to blow the final whistle with such intriguing speed suggests "situational officiating." By bypassing technological verification, the official seemingly prioritized short-term security concerns over the integrity of the result. III. From Organizational Sanctions to the Imperative of Federal Recourse The erratic resumption of play just before the final whistle confirmed the impotence of the current organizational regime. Unable to formalize an organic and definitive abandonment, CAF is forced to retreat to Articles 146 and 147 of its Disciplinary Code. However, while these tools allow for the punishment of "unsportsmanlike conduct" through federal fines, they are merely bandages on an open wound, incapable of restoring the compromised sporting equity. Faced with what must be termed a denial of sporting justice, the Royal Moroccan Football Federation (FRMF) cannot remain a passive observer. It must exercise its legal right of appeal to move the dispute from the emotional sphere to a structured administrative procedure. The imperative here is normative: to demand a rigorous investigation into the procedural integrity of those final moments, transforming a legitimate sense of grievance into a sovereign and irrefutable legal action. CAF now finds itself before a mirror: to demand absolute discipline, it must first guarantee the infallibility of its officials. Such precedents must be handled with a rigor that leaves no room for arbitrariness, enshrining the excellence and normative alignment we expect. The 2025 final serves as a catalyst. Without a deep overhaul to codify "coordinated disobedience," technical compliance will remain a hostage to the balance of power on the pitch.