ONE NIGHT in AFRICA

BANGUI : (Central African Republic)
An invitation unexpected but one gladly accepted. Chosen for its location at the continent's heart, the Central Republic of Africa and its capital city of Bangui prepared to host their team's warm up match against Belgium. The coming together of a single football team to represent over a billion people. Across Africa a new sense of hope was beginning to flower as the seeds of a new dawn cast light over countries which for decades had known nothing but darkness.

It was a phenomenon.

The Kalashnikovs were being laid down in favour of following a united African football team in search of the 'Miracle'. Victory at Nessa Dorma . Sworn enemies, rivals whom had slaughtered each other for decades declared ceasefires. Truces were brokered in even the fiercest of conflicts. A poverty stricken, war ravaged continent, but one brought together by Pan African colours of red, black and green. Red representing the noble blood that unites all African ancestry, the black for it's people and green for the rich and fertile land.

Handed the awesome task of unifying so many nations under one flag was a man whose footballing philosophy demanded his team played the beautiful game in an earthquake's midst. Arsene Wenger's unflappable manner and calm measured approach to all things was deemed perfect to handle a snake's nest of African political intrigue, backbiting and personal jealousies. At the press conference Wenger wasted little time in letting everyone know he would quit instantly at any hint to undermine him. In fact he almost dared them to try.

'To coach a United Africa is a great honour and privilege but one i can only accept if i am allowed to manage. For if i walk away you have the unthinkable scenario under Nessa Dorma rules of being forced to withdraw. Then, whoever you may be. No matter how much money or guns you possess will face the consequences'. Oblivion, the wrath of an entire continent'. His point made Wenger visibly relaxed and a world media exploded in verbal consternation, all utterly fascinated at how this erudite Frenchman intended to rock the world and lead Africa to footballing immortality.

He was asked just how far a United Africa could advance in Italy'? Was it simply a mad dream, even absurd fantasy to suggest they could triumph against such vaunted opponents'? 'Our group is difficult but not impossible to plot a way through. There will be a fear of the unknown about playing us. When people say we are dreaming to even think of success then I reply, yes i am dreaming.
And you are in my dream'!
For i believe in miracles and at Nessun Dorma you will witness mine. We will all be dreaming with our eyes open'.

United Africa v Belgium: Warm up match:

Bartholemy Boganda stadium: Bangui:

AFR: NKONO: SONG: TATAW: RADEBE: KUFFOUR: BELLOUMI: MADJER: ESSIEN: WEAH: ETTO: DROGBA:

BEL: PFAFF S: GRUN: DEMOL: GERETS: ALBERT: VAN MOER: GERETS: SCIFO: CELEMANS: VAN HIMST: VAN DER ELST:

From across the length of Africa they descended upon Bangui. It was a holy pilgrimage. One million people in endless convoys of broken down, ram-shackled old trucks, all desperate to be close to the start of the 'Miracle'. Huge screens were set up across the city for with the stadium's 20,000 lowly capacity tickets were impossible to attain. Those available were shared equally amongst all African nations. Astonishingly no arguments occurred for even the continent's most powerful Presidents, politicians and Generals knew to do so risked being overthrown and lynched.

As a shooting star blazed across the black African sky and a billion hearts feltclose to bursting, the United Africa team took to the pitch.

Wearing black shirts with an outlined map of Africa ensconced upon it, red shorts and green socks, the players stood in the centre circle to acknowledge the roaring crowd. Arsene Wengers selection of Didier Drogba, George Weah and Samuel Etto in a three pronged forward line, with the bejewelled Algerian due of Lakhdar Belloumi and Rabah Madjer coming from deep in midfield meant the Frenchman's intent was clear. To the incessant beat of the drums Africa would attack!

Guy Thys' Belgium had not travelled 3300 miles to be mere extras in some greater African extravaganza. They came to win. The ever-cautious Thys set his team up in typical manner. Like a boxer sheltering behind his gloves, striking only when he sees the perfect opportunity Belgium's intent was clear from the off. Hit, run and ruin Africa's opening lines in Nessun Dorma.

Playing in all white the visitors impressed quickly with their diminutive midfield General Wilfred Van Moer prompting and dictating play. Belgium's counter-attacking ploy to spoil the party was proving no idle threat as early chances went awry for both scheming Enzo Scifo and centre forward Paul Van Himst. For thirty minutes Belgium dangled their opponents on strings, It was only the ferocious defending of Captain Lucas Radebe and alongside him Samuel Kuffour that kept the Belgians at bay. Half time arrived with Africa hanging on by a thread and unable to utter a shot in anger for the entire period.

The African forwards had been starved of service, their midfield bereft of fire and imagination. Wenger knew the problem lay more with nerves than any lack of talent. He urged his players to express themselves. 'Feel the passion on the terraces, your people, breathe it in'. Arising from their slumber Africa awoke. Drogba began to terrorise the Belgian defence, his power and mobility leaving gaping holes for Etto and Weah to race into. Belgium's elegant defender Philippe Albert who spent the first half marauding forward now found himself being knocked around like a spinning top.

The lightning pace of Etto saw him roar past a chasing bearded full-back Eric Gerets before lashing a shot inches wide of Jean Marie Pfaff goal. Now it was game on! The stadium erupted with noise, Wenger urged more, a continent watched enraptured. Weah's trickery allowed him space to let in Drogba who once more muscled Albert to the floor and crashed a thunderous drive inches over the crossbar from twelve yards.
All fire, pace and power Michael Essien now rampaged through midfield, totally nullifying the threats of the once domineering Van Moer and Scifo.

For the remained of the game Africa pounded the Belgian goal repeatedly but through either bad luck or fine goalkeeping by Pfaffs failed to find a breakthrough. One minute remained when a tiring Van Moer lost the ball to a sprinting Madjer, who careered down the wing like a gazelle. Madjer's low cross into the penalty area was met first time by Drogba who smashed it past a diving Pfaff at the near post. Africa had won it at the last and Arsene Wenger along with one billion people went mad!

Amidst the fireworks that exploded over Bangui, as if on cue a shooting star sped once more across the star-lit sky to join in the riotous celebrations. It appeared to do a victory roll. Strange night, strange times..... Nessun Dorma.