“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Shabana have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
A window away with the national side, and a shirt at Shabana that briefly doubles as an advertisement. A call-up flatters the player and the club that built him in the same breath.
A window away with the national side, and a shirt at Shabana that briefly doubles as an advertisement. A call-up flatters the player and the club that built him in the same breath.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
Asked to play a role that is not his, or taken off before the hour once too often — Cliff Nyakeya has let it be known that he does not like the way Shabana are using him. Managers hear this long before the press does.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 11 appearances in 34 say he has earned the hearing.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
In brief
MarketThe window shut and Danson Kiprono is still in the building
A player who expected to start watched it instead. The manager will call it a decision for the team; George Onyango will call it something else in private.
The board have answered with money instead of encouragement, which is the only answer a manager ever wants. Spending it well is now entirely his problem.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 0 appearances in 33 say he has earned the hearing.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
Some afternoons a goalkeeper is the team. 9 saves, several of them the sort nobody expects to see stopped, and a scoreline that flatters everybody in front of him.
He found out with everybody else, an hour before kick-off, from a sheet of paper on a wall. Nobody at Shabana pretended it was anything other than a decision about him.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 0 appearances in 29 say he has earned the hearing.
32 years old, every age group at this club behind him, and a borrowed player of much the same standard in front of him every Saturday. The parents in the stand have noticed, and so has every kid below him.
12 months left and silence from upstairs — no offer, no talks, nothing for his people to answer. Clubs that let a calendar do their negotiating usually end up negotiating with the calendar.
A player who expected to start watched it instead. The manager will call it a decision for the team; George Onyango will call it something else in private.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
A shoot-out is remembered by its ending, and this one ends with Maxwell Mulili: 4 kept out, and a set of supporters who will describe every one of them for the next twenty years.
A 1-1 win over Kakamega Homeboyz, a place in the next round, and the quiet arithmetic every supporter does on the walk home: how many more until a final?
Nairobi United pay $6.0K, and the deal is done. The number reads well on a balance sheet; whether it reads well on the pitch is next season's question.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 0 appearances in 25 say he has earned the hearing.
The name of Justine Nyangwara has come up in conversations Shabana were not part of. Nothing formal, nothing signed — but nothing about it accidental either.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Shabana they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
The crowd waited for a goal that never came. Bidco United defended in numbers and left with what they came for, and the two sides could be playing still without troubling a scorer.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Shabana they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 0 appearances in 21 say he has earned the hearing.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Shabana have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Shabana they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
A shoot-out is remembered by its ending, and this one ends with Caleb Omondi: 3 kept out, and a set of supporters who will describe every one of them for the next twenty years.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Shabana they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 0 appearances in 17 say he has earned the hearing.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
An error at the back is a moment; an error in goal is a goal. Maxwell Mulili knows it, the crowd knew it instantly, and there was nobody behind him to make it anything else.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
A 1-0 win over Posta Rangers, earned rather than given, and the sort of afternoon that sends everyone home talking about next week instead of this one.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Shabana they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
He wheeled away like a man who had been carrying it for months, because he had. Shabana have their signing off the mark and one press-conference question retired.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Shabana have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
Every debut is a small story about the future: Kabir Muhammed Kabir, 20 years old, off the academy pitches and into the first team. The parents in the stand will keep the programme.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Shabana they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
Some afternoons a goalkeeper is the team. 6 saves, several of them the sort nobody expects to see stopped, and a scoreline that flatters everybody in front of him.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
Shabana spent the window trying to move Victor Omondi on and nobody came. He trains with a squad that has already told him he is not part of it, and both sides now wait for the next one.
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.
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.
The shirt still fits. Timothy Kibwage is back at Shabana, and half the ground remembers him in these colours already. Some signings need selling to the town; this one sold itself.
A defender's mistake gets tidied up by somebody else; a goalkeeper's ends up in the net. He knew before the ball crossed the line, and so did everybody in the ground.
A new face in his position, and Cliff Nyakeya suddenly has to win back what he thought he owned. Shabana have promised nothing — clubs rarely do at this stage.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Shabana is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“I was told straight, and I would rather have it straight.” The manager at Shabana has been clear about where Mark Okola stands, which is more than many ever get.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
The fee is $17.0K, the contract is signed, and the argument about whether he is worth it can begin. Ulinzi Stars drove a hard bargain; time will say who won it.
The deal that would have taken Benard Okinyi to Mathare United has collapsed at the last stage, and he reports back to Shabana with a summer to forget and a season still to play. Nobody is saying which side walked away.
“I was told straight, and I would rather have it straight.” The manager at Shabana has been clear about where Victor Omondi stands, which is more than many ever get.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana 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.” Shabana have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
The name of Dalphine Omuri has come up in conversations Shabana were not part of. Nothing formal, nothing signed — but nothing about it accidental either.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Shabana can pretend not to have heard.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
A window away with the national side, and a shirt at Shabana that briefly doubles as an advertisement. A call-up flatters the player and the club that built him in the same breath.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Shabana have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
Public backing, and the sort that costs a manager something if it turns out to be wrong. Klinsman Omulanga has been told in front of everybody that the shirt is his.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Shabana have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
The message was aimed at the stands as much as the dressing room: George Onyango plays, and the argument is closed until the manager decides otherwise.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
The crowd waited for a goal that never came. Mara Sugar defended in numbers and left with what they came for, and the two sides could be playing still without troubling a scorer.
“I am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Shabana, and 0 appearances in 5 say he has earned the hearing.
Kariobangi Sharks go through and Shabana go home, 1-2 the scoreline that did it. The dressing room will call the league the priority now, because that is what dressing rooms say.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Shabana, and both men came out saying it was fine.
A 1-0 win over Kakamega Homeboyz, a place in the next round, and the quiet arithmetic every supporter does on the walk home: how many more until a final?
A defender's mistake gets tidied up by somebody else; a goalkeeper's ends up in the net. He knew before the ball crossed the line, and so did everybody in the ground.
He wheeled away like a man who had been carrying it for months, because he had. Shabana have their signing off the mark and one press-conference question retired.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Shabana know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.