Over the past few years, Zimbabwean football has moved in circles…

By Advent Shoko

Zimbabwean football has never struggled for passion. From dusty rural pitches to packed urban stadiums, the game still grips the nation in a way few institutions can. ZIFA president Nqobile Magwizi taps into that reality when he writes that football “stirs emotions unlike any other” and reminds stakeholders that “there is only one game and it belongs to all of us.” It is a powerful opening and, on the surface, hard to disagree with.

But beneath that shared love for the game lies a sport that has spent the better part of the past decade wrestling with itself, administratively, structurally and competitively.

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Magwizi is correct to say ZIFA does not “own” Zimbabwean football and that it merely acts as a custodian. That statement matters, especially in a country where football governance has often been personalised, politicised or centralised. Yet custodianship comes with responsibility, and this is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable.

Over the past few years, Zimbabwean football has moved in circles. International isolation, FIFA intervention, the Normalisation Committee era, court battles, boardroom infighting and inconsistent decision-making have all left scars. While the Warriors have shown moments of resilience, including qualification for AFCON and a spirited showing in Morocco, the broader picture remains worrying.

Zimbabwe’s FIFA ranking has slipped to number 132, lowest position in the history of the FIFA Ranking system, leaving the Warriors well outside Africa’s elite and confirming a hard truth supporters already feel: progress has stalled. Rankings may not tell the full story, but they reflect trends, limited competitive wins, disrupted planning and a national team often operating under uncertainty.

Supporters have been vocal. On social media, radio shows and stadium terraces, fans consistently point to administration as the game’s biggest weakness. When Magwizi speaks of fragmentation, “clubs versus administrators, fans versus officials, regions feeling unheard”, he is accurately describing the state of affairs. Yet many fans argue those divisions stem from opaque decisions, weak communication and a lack of visible accountability.

The tensions have spilled beyond talk. Major clubs have taken football authorities to court, exposing deep mistrust between institutions that should be aligned. Refereeing controversies continue to dominate matchday debate, forcing suspensions while raising questions about consistency and standards. Proposed league reforms have divided opinion, with supporters split between embracing change and fearing further dilution of quality.

Players have also added their voices. Senior internationals including Marshall Munetsi, Khama Billiat, and Jordan Zemura have publicly expressed frustration over selection, preparation and communication, underlining gaps between administrative decisions and player welfare. These comments are not isolated incidents; they reflect a system struggling to coordinate its parts.

Magwizi warns against “destructive narratives” that may discourage investment, and the concern is valid. Football needs sponsors, stability and confidence. However, there is a difference between destructive noise and necessary scrutiny. Zimbabwean football has suffered before not because people asked too many questions, but because too few were answered.

Infrastructure remains another unresolved challenge. Ambitious projects meant to symbolise renewal, including long-promised development facilities, have been overshadowed by mismanagement and stalled delivery. At the same time, stadium bans, limited youth structures and uneven development pathways continue to restrict growth, despite talent existing across all regions and in the diaspora.

The ZIFA president is right on one point above all: meaningful reform takes time. Systems broken over years cannot be fixed overnight. Trust must be rebuilt gradually, capacity strengthened deliberately and dialogue sustained consistently. But patience must go hand in hand with progress. Supporters no longer want assurances alone; they want timelines, transparency and measurable outcomes.

Zimbabwean football does not need another slogan. It needs alignment between rhetoric and reality. Unity cannot be declared into existence; it must be built through credible competitions, fair governance, open communication and respect for every stakeholder in the game.

Magwizi’s call for one football family and shared responsibility is compelling. Whether it succeeds will depend not on words, but on action. Custodianship is not symbolic, it is accountability in practice.

Zimbabwean football still has heart. What it requires now is leadership that turns unity from a message into a method.