In a move that has sent shockwaves through the plush, air-conditioned corridors of the Ghana Football Association (GFA), a veteran Ghanaian football administrator and former Ghana League Clubs Association (GHALCA) Chairman Kudjoe Fianoo has dropped a radical, borderline heretical proposal. He wants the Black Stars to—brace yourselves—consider selecting home-based players for the upcoming World Cup qualifiers against Somalia.
Yes, you read that correctly. Actual footballers who currently breathe Ghanaian oxygen, navigate Accra traffic, and get paid in Cedis (when they get paid at all).
It is a terrifying suggestion. For years, the established, sacred ritual of assembling the Black Stars has been beautifully consistent. First, a coach—usually a glamorous European expatriate residing in a five-star suite—scours the remote, frost-bitten benches of Europe’s third divisions to find anyone who once ate jollof or has a grandmother from Kumasi. Then, we spend millions flying them down in business class, only for them to treat the pitch at our national stadiums like a fragile runway, carefully avoiding any sudden movements that might jeopardise their European club bonuses.
But now, after consecutive disasters against Côte d’Ivoire and The Gambia left Ghana sitting at the absolute bottom of Group C with zero points, Uncle Kudjoe is trying to ruin the entire tourism economy of the national team.
The Logistics of Common Sense
Think of the sheer administrative chaos Fianoo is proposing. If we select home-based players, how will the GFA justify the massive per-diem budgets? Where is the thrill of tracking a player’s flight from London or Frankfurt on FlightRadar? If a player is already in Dormaa or Bechem, you can’t even buy them an international ticket. You can only buy them a ticket on a VIP bus, and frankly, that lacks the geopolitical prestige we have come to expect from our footballing elite.
Furthermore, introducing local players to the senior national team poses a severe cultural risk. These boys play on pitches that closely resemble freshly ploughed cassava farms. They are rugged. If you throw them onto a pitch against Somalia, they might actually run. They might chase the ball. They might tackle with the desperation of men whose next meal depends on a winning bonus. This would deeply embarrass our European-based superstars, who prefer the highly sophisticated, minimalist art style of “jogging elegantly while pointing at open spaces.”
A Desperate Times Measure
To be fair to Fianoo, his timing is logical. Following the unceremonious exit of the latest coach, Ghana football is currently in what experts call “a state of premium premium tears”. We have fallen so far that former GFA bosses are openly mourning the system on sports radio, and fans are treating matchdays like national days of fasting and prayer.
Playing Somalia in November is supposed to be a standard corporate formality. Instead, it has been elevated to a high-stakes geopolitical thriller. Somalia is looking at Ghana’s recent form and thinking, “Hey, there’s a free three points over there.”
By suggesting we deploy local players, Fianoo is tapping into a profound truth: the local boys have nothing left to lose. They are already immune to the power outages (dumsor), they know how to survive without headline league sponsors, and they won’t complain that the hotel food doesn’t taste like London brunch. They are structurally built for warfare.
The Ultimate Sacrifice
Of course, the GFA leadership will likely meet this proposal with their trademark look of polite disgust. They are far too busy hunting for the next diaspora talent who turned us down three times but might consider us now that their European national team options have dried up.
But if Kurt Okraku and his newly formed search committee want to save their jobs—especially since Fianoo has already publicly told them to pack their bags if things go south—they might want to listen.
Let us call up the local boys. Let us fill the squad with the energetic youth of the Ghana Premier League before they, too, inevitably sign contracts with clubs in Tanzania, Congo, or the third tier of the Maltese league. At least, if we lose to Somalia with local players, we can comfortably blame it on the domestic economy. If we lose with our European superstars, we have to face the painful reality that we spent millions of taxpayers’ cash just to watch a group of tourists look confused in matching jerseys.
The ball is in your court, GFA. Choose the VIP bus. Choose the home-based warriors.
By Emmanuel Amponsah
The writer is a former Editor of The Spectator
