“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Mamelodi Sundowns, and it is not being withdrawn.
“I want to win things, and I would like to do it here.” Nothing has been demanded and nothing has been threatened — but a boardroom at Mamelodi Sundowns hears a sentence like that exactly as it was built.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Mamelodi Sundowns they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
Thamsanqa Lorch was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Mandla Grobler is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
The manager has re-ordered his thinking and Aubrey Modiba has come out of it lower. He will be told it is temporary, and the players who have heard that before will avoid his eye.
5 signings in three months. Every one of them may be an upgrade and the team can still be worse for a while, which is the part of a rebuild that never appears in the transfer-window verdicts.
The words a physio says slowly. 20 days is what the club will announce and everybody who has heard this diagnosis before knows the number is the least of it: the knee comes back before the player does.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Mamelodi Sundowns is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“I have ambitions, and I would like the club to share them.” Nobody has asked to leave and nobody has been shown the door — but a player chooses that sentence carefully, and a boardroom hears it exactly as it was meant.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
It is never announced and it is entirely visible: the biggest afternoons of the season keep containing him. A press box works this out long before anybody at the club confirms a word of it.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Mamelodi Sundowns is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
He left as a boy and has come back still knowing where the away end is. Most signings have to be explained to a town; this one needed a photograph and nothing else.
Footballers are asked about their boyhood club so often that nobody listens to the answer. Akram Bouras has just signed for Mamelodi Sundowns, and for once the answer mattered.
“I want to win things, and I would like to do it here.” Nothing has been demanded and nothing has been threatened — but a boardroom at Mamelodi Sundowns hears a sentence like that exactly as it was built.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Thamsanqa Lorch was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Nobody at Mamelodi Sundowns will say this on the record and the team sheets have been saying it for weeks. There is a small group in every squad who get picked when the fixture is difficult, and he has joined it.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Kano Pillars waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Mamelodi Sundowns is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
Every run ends on an afternoon somebody had marked down as routine. This one went 14 matches, which is long enough that a town had stopped counting, and short enough that it will remember exactly who stopped it.
The offer from JS Saoura for Joseph Ceesay was heard out and sent back the same day. First bids are rarely meant to succeed; they are meant to find out how loudly the door closes.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Mamelodi Sundowns they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
Everything was agreed until it was not, and Jody Ah Shene reports back to Mamelodi Sundowns with a summer to forget. Neither club is saying who walked away from the table.
Khuliso Mudau was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Mamelodi Sundowns, and it is not being withdrawn.
“I listened, I thought about it, and I am staying. That is the whole story.” The clubs had agreed a fee. Joseph Ceesay had not agreed to go, which turned out to be the part that mattered.
The clubs have settled the fee and he has settled his wages. What remains is a medical and a photograph, and around Mamelodi Sundowns people have started saying his name in the past tense.
There are footballers who have a good season and footballers a season is remembered for, and the second kind get their names read out in a hall in the summer. Mamelodi Sundowns will be quietly delighted and privately nervous.
The clubs have shaken hands with Orlando Pirates; the player has not yet. Personal terms are next, and personal terms are where more deals die than anybody prints.
106 days on the estimate, and a long, private, unglamorous year of a rehabilitation nobody watches. Mamelodi Sundowns lose a footballer; he loses considerably more than a season.
The last thing about a transfer that is still about the player is his signature on his own terms, and it is there. Mamelodi Sundowns have lost him in all but the paperwork.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Sean Fusire will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Mamelodi Sundowns the goodbyes have quietly begun.
Khuliso Mudau and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
“Some decisions take a long time. This one took ten minutes, and most of that was finding a pen.” Keagan Furman and Mamelodi Sundowns agree another 3 years.
“I want to be playing for trophies while my legs still let me.” Nothing in that sentence is a transfer request, and nobody at Mamelodi Sundowns heard it as anything else.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
The last thing about a transfer that is still about the player is his signature on his own terms, and it is there. Mamelodi Sundowns have lost him in all but the paperwork.
“I listened, I thought about it, and I am staying. That is the whole story.” The clubs had agreed a fee. Joseph Ceesay had not agreed to go, which turned out to be the part that mattered.
Bones knit. That is the one merciful thing about this injury and the reason Mamelodi Sundowns will talk about it more openly than they would about a knee. He will be back, and roughly when they say.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Mamelodi Sundowns, and it is not being withdrawn.
Footballers are asked about their boyhood club so often that nobody listens to the answer. Aden Dreyer has just signed for Mamelodi Sundowns, and for once the answer mattered.
The offer went to Orlando Pirates this week and it is theirs to answer. First bids are rarely meant to succeed; they are meant to find out how loud the door closes.
The rules permit it and it stings anyway. Bathusi Aubaas has agreed terms with SuperSport United for the summer, and until then he pulls on this shirt as a player who has already chosen his next one.
Brutal, unambiguous and, for all the horror of the moment, usually less career-shaped than the ligament everybody fears more. 44 days, a clean timeline, and a return date somebody can actually plan around.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Mamelodi Sundowns, and it is not being withdrawn.
“I want to win things, and I would like to do it here.” Nothing has been demanded and nothing has been threatened — but a boardroom at Mamelodi Sundowns hears a sentence like that exactly as it was built.
Khuliso Mudau was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Mandla Grobler is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
The manager has re-ordered his thinking and Themba Zwane has come out of it lower. He will be told it is temporary, and the players who have heard that before will avoid his eye.
Brutal, unambiguous and, for all the horror of the moment, usually less career-shaped than the ligament everybody fears more. 52 days, a clean timeline, and a return date somebody can actually plan around.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Mamelodi Sundowns, and it is not being withdrawn.
There are footballers who have a good season and footballers a season is remembered for, and the second kind get their names read out in a hall in the summer. Mamelodi Sundowns will be quietly delighted and privately nervous.
Every footballer has an answer to the question about his boyhood club, and most of them never get to act on it. Joseph Ceesay has, at Mamelodi Sundowns, and the first month will show what that does to a man.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Ntando Nkosi will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Mamelodi Sundowns the goodbyes have quietly begun.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Mamelodi Sundowns this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
30 games, 23 goals, and a squad option that has arrived without a fee attached. The interesting question at Mamelodi Sundowns now is not whether he plays but who he displaces.
It is never announced and it is entirely visible: the biggest afternoons of the season keep containing him. A press box works this out long before anybody at the club confirms a word of it.
5 without a win now, and the ground has developed the special quiet of a crowd that expects the worst. One scrappy 1-0 would cure most of it; that is the maddening part.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Lorenzo Ignacchiti was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
3 games without scoring. Strikers stop looking up, midfielders take the extra touch, and every shot that clears the bar is followed by a groan that has been building since the last goal.
There is no crueller way to lose a football match. Empoli scored in the 90th minute, the restart barely happened, and the away end was still standing when the whistle went.
Filippo Bandinelli and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Lorenzo Ignacchiti was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
He is 22 and the ground already sings his name, which is a thing that happens to local boys and almost never to signings. Everything from here is measured against an affection he did nothing to earn except be from here.
It is not much of a headline and it is the reason players believe the next promise. Empoli told Alberto Cerri something would happen and then it happened, which in this industry passes for remarkable.
At 33 he is supposed to be managing his minutes. Instead he was marked 8.07 and looked, for ninety minutes, exactly like the player everybody remembers.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Empoli this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
6 goals. Both benches spent the second half looking at each other rather than at the pitch. Purists will complain about Empoli and Carrarese in equal measure; everybody else had a wonderful time.
Ask anyone on the way out what separated the sides and you will get one name: Filippo Bandinelli. 4‑2 against Carrarese, and the applause at the whistle was mostly his.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Luca Marianucci was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Everything was agreed until it was not, and Joseph Ceesay reports back to Empoli with a summer to forget. Neither club is saying who walked away from the table.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Empoli can pretend not to have heard.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Empoli have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
The deadline has passed and the squad is the squad. 28 arrived, 24 left, and everything else printed about this club last month was a rumour that stayed one.
The deal with Virtus Entella is done in every sense but the one that puts him on the pitch. Nothing goes wrong at this stage, except on the occasions when it does.
Terms were offered and declined. Whether it was the wages, the role or the town, nobody at Juventus is saying, and nobody at Empoli is enjoying the guessing.
Marco Curto and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
In brief
SquadWords at Empoli training over how hard people work
Empoli had done everything except persuade the man himself. He stays at Fiorentina, and the manager goes back to the drawing board with the money still in the bank.
At 21 he is doing things this season that he could not do last season, and doing them every week. Form comes and goes; this has stayed long enough to be called something else.
At 33 the improving is meant to be over. It is not: 4 points better than the mark taken at the start of the year, which is the sort of thing that happens to players who take the boring parts of the job seriously.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
8 days since the seat came open, a list of names doing the rounds, and nobody has signed anything. Every week this drags on the shortlist gets shorter.
Four paragraphs on the club website, none of them about football. The board thanked him, wished him well, and had the search under way before the page went up.
The clubs have settled the fee and he has settled his wages. What remains is a medical and a photograph, and around Empoli people have started saying his name in the past tense.
“I am not thinking past Saturday, and I would advise nobody else to.” The caretaker’s first rule is to pretend the job is small; Alfonso De Santis recited it perfectly.
At 22 he is doing things this season that he could not do last season, and doing them every week. Form comes and goes; this has stayed long enough to be called something else.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Rodrigo Brandán will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Empoli the goodbyes have quietly begun.
At 32 the improving is meant to be over. It is not: 3 points better than the mark taken at the start of the year, which is the sort of thing that happens to players who take the boring parts of the job seriously.