DAVID MAKGALE
“Babale went to fetch a gun.”
Lanky midfielder David Makgale joined Tembisa Classic from First Division side Ledwaba Power Stars in 2004. The team was later sold to Maritzburg United, morphing into Maritzburg Classic, and he later earned a big move to Orlando Pirates. Black Leopards and Platinum Stars were his other topflight clubs, and he quit playing in 2011. “I was just a young boy from Brits, but I’m where I am today because of football,” he notes.
Heita, David. It’s been a long while and we thought we could catch up with you for the purpose of walking down memory lane.
It has indeed been a while and I’m glad to see that Soccer Laduma has continued to grow over the years. My first club in the topflight was Maritzburg Classic, whom I had joined during their First Division days when they were still known as Tembisa Classic where we narrowly missed out on promotion after going all the way to the play-offs. My roommate in camp was Mpho ‘Cafu’ Rashete. In fact, I ‘recruited’ him to Orlando Pirates after I’d moved there. I met the chairman, Dr Irvin Khoza, and he said he’d been impressed with how I played. I told him that the player that had made me shine at Classic was Rashete and that he must try and sign him. Right away, he said, “Give me his number.” The following day, Rashete met the chairman and within no time he was signed, sealed and delivered to Bucs. The thing is, when I joined Classic, there were a lot of township guys there, ‘the clevers’ so to speak. They’d speak about you in Zulu, knowing you couldn’t hear. Rashete was from Tembisa and I befriended him. He taught me Zulu and I taught him Tswana. To this day we are joined at the hip.
Who were some of the funny players that now come to mind?
Tshegofatso Mashego was one. When Steve Lekoelea came to us, he was this big star, and his arrival was accompanied by a prominent report in The Witness daily newspaper, headlined “Steve is in the area!” He wanted jersey number 10, which belonged to me at the time, and Mashego teased him and said the song he did with Mzambiya, titled “Jersey #10”, should have its lyrics changed. An incredulous Lekoelea asked him, “Do you know who I am?” and Mashego replied, “Yes, I know, you are Steve Lekoelea!” Everyone was listening as he was tearing poor Steve apart, ha, ha, ha. One time we went out and Lekoelea wanted to buy pizza for his family, and Mashego started likening him to those migrant labourers who, when going back home, would buy pizza in town and phone the family to ask them to cook pap while he was on his way with the pizza. Ha, ha, ha… remember we worshipped the ground Steve walked on, and there was Mashego making him look ordinary.
Ha, ha, ha.
Gerald ‘Jomo’ Modabi was another one. He once bunked training for almost a week at Pirates. Our coach, Milutin Sredojevic, used to ccheckec whowo was ata trainingranng on a particularparcuar day. He’d then update the chairman on the happenings in the team. One day, the chairman came to training to give us a piece of his mind. Modabi was there. Dr Khoza summoned us all and charged, “I know what’s happening here! I know what all of you are doing!” He then turned to Modabi and said, “Jomo, I know you didn’t attend training last week. Why?” Modabi told him he’d gone to Home Affairs to change his surname. But he’s still Gerald Modabi, ha, ha, ha! I bumped into Cavaan Sibeko at the Lucas Masterpieces Moripe Goodwill Games recently and he asked me if I still remembered that story, and we both had a good giggle. Lunga, I so wish you were there at training that day just to see how Modabi tried to wriggle his way out of that one. We felt sorry for him.
Go on.
Then there was the late Gift Leremi. One time we went to play Ajax Cape Town in Kimberley and, on the bus trip, he was telling Benedict Vilakazi, “All of you, you are hard workers, me, I’m a star!” Tso did not appreciate that comment and, before we knew it, the two were in combat. The guys had to intervene, but Leremi was unstop- pable. pa e Evenven thee physicallypyscay imposingmposng Papi ap Khomane had a tough time fending him off. Later, I asked him, “Gift, what happened?” He said, “Yazi labafana (You know these boys), they are like their team manager”, a veiled reference to Bra Phil Setshedi. I didn’t think much of it, until we played a friendly game against some lower division team from Soweto the following week. Gift was supposed to fetch his kid from creche, and time was running out for him. Game still on, Gift mumbles, “It’s time for me and my family now. My time here is up.” He asks Pule Sithebe (kit manager) to go and tell Bra Phil that he wants to go. Pule gets moving. Five minutes later, no action, and Gift decided to ‘shoot the messenger’, who was by now sitting next to Bra Phil on the touchline. “Pule, what’s happening? I’m waiting for you here,” he called out. Bra Phil interjected, “Gift, we’re still playing”, to which Gift said, “Phil, ingathinga manmanjee ufunauuna mminana (looksoos likee you’re you re challenging me now).” Fortunately, the players were there to prevent any disaster. “I was going to hit him with a right,” Gift later
told us. Ha, ha.
What a character…
At Black Leopards, we were deep in relegation trouble one time and the chairman, David ‘Bra Dey’ Thidiela promised each player a R10 000 win bonus but said this was only for those who’d have started or come on. Those on the bench or in the stands would get zilch. This, of course, was an uncomfortable fact and so we settled among ourselves to pay the fringe guys out of our own pockets, so to put it. We settled on a contribution of R3 000 from each player. We then played Thanda Royal Zulu and won. After the game, our team manager, Sam Khaphathe, came to the change room with our envelopes. I was sitting next to Fischer Kondowe who, after receiving his envelope, pulled out of the deal! His exact words were: “I don’t play with money. I came to South Africa to get money, not to give it.” Ha, ha, ha, you can imagine I was also in two minds by now because I was next in line. I looked at Hlompho Kekana and Jabu Maluleke – their eyes were full of betrayal. In fact, they ended
not forking out anything towards the kitty that day. I see Kekana is earning the big bucks at Mamelodi Sundowns, but I wish to remind him that he’s still owing some poor souls back in Limpopo, ha, ha, ha.
Let’s hope Keke’s reading this, ha, ha. You must have seen a few fights between teammates… well, besides those involving Leremi.
Ha, ha, ha, I think you were once a soccer player because those things used to happen. One time at Pirates, we were playing small-sided games and Rashete complained about Fikru Tefera not coming back to mark. Tefera’s response was two feet on Rashete’s face and I think my friend still bears that scar on his face. The other fight I remember happened between Gerald Raphahlela and goalkeeper Michel Babale. We were at training and, after conceding a goal, Babale lashed out at his defence, blaming them for the goal. Obviously, Bra G, who always demanded respect, was not going to take that lying down. A hectic fight ensued, and we had to come between them. It was so hectic that Babale went to fetch a gun in his car, but the intervention of the security guards saved the day. The training session ended right there and then. Bra G also once exchanged heated words with Mbulelo Mabizela and his ‘mistake’ was to say, “Labafana bayadelela (These boys are so disrespectful).” Mabizela told him, “Don’t say labafana, khuluma nami (these boys, talk to me).” He then started attacking Bra G and they had to be separated. We thought it was all over and then the next thing Mabizela punched him! It was one of those punches that come totally out of nowhere and Bra G wanted to eat him alive after that. While we were busy trying to diffuse the fracas, he was saying, “Ithi siyiqede manje (Let’s finish the fight now).”