Ghana gave their all for national pride against Germany, yet a few hours later the story broke that implicated their own Football Association with match-fixing
In a World Cup already overflowing with entertainment, endeavour and emotion, the game between Ghana and Germany on Saturday was a particular joy. A vibrant, pulsating 90 minutes of fluctuating fortunes, every attack seemed to promise goals, every player was striving his utmost, every moment was utterly compelling.
Around the stadium, the thousands of Brazilians in attendance were, to a man, woman and child, backing Ghana. This wasn’t simply out of a natural inclination to support the underdog. It was as much driven by the possibility that this Ghanaian side might deliver the shock of the tournament. Until a last minute equaliser, they really did look as if they were going to beat the mighty Germans.
What a game this was. Played in great spirit, without play-acting or subterfuge; despite the relentless pressure only one participant was shown the yellow card. To look away for a second was to risk missing a vital plot development: never mind England’s pitiful showing, this was football as it should be played. This was the World Cup at its best, the perfect advertisement for the sport’s virtues.
After the game, Akwasi Appiah, the quietly spoken Ghanaian coach, seemed the calmest man in a stadium still vibrating with excitement.
“Ghanaians have a strong mentality in football,” he said. “We always believe we have to fight to the end never mind what happens initially.”
A few hours after Appiah and his players had left the stadium, glowing in satisfaction at having so demonstratively fought to the end, the story broke in the Daily Telegraph that the chairman of the Ghana Football Association had been filmed by undercover reporters negotiating with match fixers. As his players were giving their all in the attempt to progress in the competition, their boss Kwesi Nyantake appeared happy to let his team play in games that others were prepared to rig.
How depressing was that news. There, on the pitch in Brazil, was a group of Ghanaians giving their all for their national pride, while in a hotel suite in Miami the man at the head of their game was happy to compromise all their excellence for a few quid. What’s worse, he seemed utterly relaxed about the process, as if it were merely part of his brief.
As an example of the apparent corruption gnawing away at the soul of the game, it could not have been more ill-timed. Ghana’s footballers had just provided a breathless spectacle of group hunger, determination and pride. Their nation’s FA president had countered that with what appeared to be a breath-taking display of individual greed.
There is no suggestion that any of Ghana’s games in this World Cup have been so tainted. Indeed, it would be impossible to imagination a game less contrived than Saturday’s wonderful display. That is the joy of football: as many a movie director has found out, the naturally achieved contours of its drama simply cannot be scripted.
Yet, alarmingly, the Ghanaian FA president seemed happy to make the attempt. He was utterly shameless in the compromise of his players’ integrity as he appeared willing to arrange friendlies through an agency that would employ corrupt match officials in order to nobble the result.
For the fans and reporters packing Fortaleza’s newly constructed stadium, this was the most disheartening coda to the match. The build-up to the World Cup had been pockmarked by the whiff of corruption. For much of the past year, the streets of Brazil have thrummed with protest that the competition was not to be the engine of economic development promised, but was instead a hugely expensive circus, played out in over-priced white elephant stadia. Its beneficiaries were not the poor or down-trodden, but the blazer-clad bureaucrats of Fifa.
In its demonstration of human endeavour, spirit and sportsmanship, the Ghanaians and Germans on Saturday gave vivid challenge Saturday to that assumption. Here was something pure, decent, good, something worth striving for. And all the time, the man supposed to be one of the game’s custodians appeared willing to compromise its integrity. Rarely has there been a more pertinent example of lions led by a donkey than in the Ghanaian FA.