Ustadh Okello Kimathi, bless his soul, recently waded into the murky waters of sports media with an insightful, albeit somewhat rambling, Facebook post. His subject? The unfortunate situation of Kelly Madada, the AFC Leopards midfielder who dared to utter the ever forbidden words: “Gor Mahia.”
Now, I’m no sports pundit, but even I can see the situation’s absurdity. Madada, a young man with dreams and aspirations, casually mentions his admiration for some of his national teammates, and suddenly the internet erupts like a volcano. “Traitor!” scream the keyboard warriors. “Disrespectful!” wail the armchair analysts.
Ustadh, ever the philosopher, rightly points out that this isn’t about ethics; it’s about a fundamental lack of media literacy. Thrust into the limelight, young players are expected to navigate the treacherous waters of public opinion without a compass. They’re lambs to the slaughter, sacrificed on the altar of clickbait and outrage.
Think about it. These kids are barely out of school, yet they’re expected to be seasoned media professionals. They’re bombarded with questions, expected to give insightful, entertaining, and politically correct answers 24/7. It’s a pressure cooker environment, where a misplaced word or a poorly chosen phrase can have devastating consequences.
And let’s be honest, the media isn’t exactly innocent in all this. We, the journalists, are as guilty as the players. We thrive on controversy, on the manufactured drama that keeps the clicks coming. We create narratives, spin stories, and often twist words to fit our own agendas.
Remember José Mourinho, the “Special One,” once famously declared that he was the “Special One“? It was a stroke of genius, a perfectly crafted soundbite that launched a thousand memes. But what if he’d stumbled, mumbled, and said something like, “I’m…uh…you know…pretty good at this job”? Would we still be talking about him today? Doubtful.
And then there’s Pep Guardiola, the enigmatic philosopher-manager. His press conferences are a masterclass in verbal gymnastics, a delicate dance between profundity and playful ambiguity. But what if he’d resorted to cliches and platitudes? Would his aura of intellectual superiority have survived?
The point is, words matter. Where you say them, when you say them and even how you say them can make or break you. But in the age of social media, where outrage reigns supreme and nuance is a casualty, young players are left to fend for themselves in a minefield of their own making.
So, what’s the solution? Ustadh, ever the pragmatist, suggests better media training. But I’m not so sure. Media training can only do so much. Ultimately, it’s about creating a more nuanced, less reactionary media landscape. It’s about recognizing that athletes are human beings first, with feelings, emotions and opinions. It’s about understanding that a misplaced word doesn’t necessarily equate to treason.
Perhaps, just perhaps, we should all take a deep breath, step back from the keyboard, and remember that football is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be about passion, about joy, about the thrill of the game. It’s not supposed to be a constant battleground for public opinion.
But hey, what do I know? I’m just a lowly journalist, trying to make sense of it all. And besides, who am I to judge? I’ve probably made my fair share of media gaffes over the years.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a pressing matter to attend to. I need to go and update my social media profile. I think I’ll change my bio to: “Philosopher, journalist, occasional football enthusiast. And, most importantly, a survivor of the media bubble.”
Disclaimer: This article is a satirical opinionated take on the Kelly Madada situation and the broader media and sports issues. It is intended to be humorous and thought-provoking, and should not be taken out of context.
