By: Momodou Sey
Disclaimer: These views are solely my own and do not represent the position of any institution I serve.
Across the Gambia, grassroots football has become a plethora of political generosity, where every Nawettan season ushers in a familiar procession of politicians, public figures and aspiring power brokers, all eager to donate jerseys, unveil trophies or either announce cash prizes and make financial pledges.
The football field has become more than a sporting arena; it turns as a theatre of public visibility, where the politician’s handshake competes with the referee’s whistle and the size of a trophy sometimes commands more attention than the quality of football development. Although these contributions provide opportunities for young people and unite communities, a pertinent question remains that, are we developing football, or investing in the political dividends that football can yield?
In A Wider Social Role for Sport, Fred Coalter (2007) challenges the tendency to assume that sport automatically delivers desirable social outcomes. His argument invites us to look beyond the spectacle of participation and interrogate the actual benefits produced. In our context, a successful tournament may be a sporting achievement, but it is not necessarily evidence of a successful football development program.
Albeit, there maybe nothing inherently wrong with conventional politicians sponsoring grassroots competitions. Indeed, their contributions can provide much-needed financial relief to clubs and communities struggling to sustain the beautiful game.
The concern arises when sponsorship begins and ends with the final whistle. We have seemingly perfected the art of financing the final while leaving the foundations of football development to fend for themselves. More satirizing, the trophy arrives in splendor with the benefactor’s name receiving a generous announcement or the cameras capture another memorable handshake.
Meanwhile, the coach remains without adequate training, the referee struggles to access professional development, and the playing field continues to negotiate an uneasy relationship with grass. Coalter’s (2007) critique is instructive here: the social benefits attributed to sport should not simply be presumed; they require deliberate planning, appropriate structures and meaningful evaluation.
If a sponsor can finance a grand final but cannot support a coaching course or contribute to facility rehabilitation, perhaps the problem is not a shortage of generosity but a narrow understanding of what generosity ought to accomplish. After all, football development cannot be measured exclusively by the noise generated when a trophy is lifted.
The political dimension makes the matter even more interesting. In Big Men Playing Football, Arnold Pannenborg (2012) explores the relationships between money, power and patronage in African football, which offers a useful lens through which to examine how sporting resources intersect with political and social influence. This does not mean that every Gambian sponsor is pursuing electoral advantage, nor should legitimate community support be dismissed as political opportunism.
Rather, it raises a question about the incentives surrounding sponsorship, as when the presentation ceremony attracts more attention than the development program, what exactly are we rewarding? The cheque is displayed, the benefactor is applauded, and the community receives a moment of celebration. Yet, the less glamorous questions remain unanswered. Who is investing in the long-term development of players?
Who is building the capacity of coaches and referees? Who is strengthening club administration and creating pathways for talented young footballers? Jude Fokwang’s (2009) examination of football and youth associations in Cameroon further demonstrates the importance of understanding football within its local community structures.
Applied cautiously to the Gambia, this perspective reminds us that grassroots football should not only mobilise communities for tournaments; it should strengthen their capacity to organise, participate and sustain the game long after the celebrations have ended.
Perhaps it is time to redefine what meaningful football sponsorship looks like. Politicians, businesses and other benefactors should be encouraged to complement tournament funding with investments in coach education, refereeing, youth academies, women’s football, safe playing facilities, equipment and sustainable club administration. Kate Manzo (2012), in her analysis of football-for-development initiatives in Africa, critically examines the assumptions and political-economic relationships underpinning the use of football as a development instrument.
Her work reinforces the need to scrutinise not merely the promises attached to football, but also the structures, priorities and outcomes through which those promises are pursued.
For the Gambia, the objective should not be to discourage sponsorship or strip Nawettan football of its excitement. Rather, it should be to ensure that the excitement becomes a foundation for something more enduring.
When the next benefactor arrives with a cheque, a camera crew and a trophy large enough to require its own transport arrangement, perhaps the crowd should applaud the gesture and still ask one modest question: what happens to our football after your photograph has been taken?
The true value of sponsorship lies not in the size of the trophy or the applause at the final, but in the opportunities, institutions and sporting capacities that remain when the crowd disperses.
Grassroots football deserves political support, certainly, but it deserves far more than a political season disguised as a development strategy.
