How I moved from hero to zero after fluffling an easy scoring chance

IN 1991 I was arguably the best Number 11 in the southern hemisphere.

My feats had helped my school to stay atop the Gauteng provincial stakes.

In one crucial game, I found myself on the bench. This was not on account of any lack of form, but the gigantic size of the opposition players.

By contrast, I lacked the aerial advantage and despite me eating Jungle Oats for breakfast every morning, my frame remained lean.

By the second half, we were trailing by two goals and I was fidgeting on the sidelines watching the team struggle.

A veteran of street soccer, I decided to lobby our supporters and teammates.

I took the ball and did a few tricks that always worked with those who called me Teenage back in those days.

With 15 minutes remaining, it worked. They started chanting my name.

I walked onto the pitch as a substitute with that swag familiar to any soccer player.

With the school soccer jersey overflowing to my knees, I did not look like a threat to the opposition. But they were soon to discover that dynamite comes in small packages.

Within five minutes on the pitch, I had set Morake up with a sumptuous scoring opportunity, which he buried.

With minutes ticking to the final whistle, we fought hard for an equaliser.

I was in the opposition box when a square pass descended in my direction. The enemy had left me completely unmarked. I concaved my chest to trap the pigskin and it fell on my weak right foot.

With all the time in the world I edged it to my deadly left foot and looked up to see where their goalkeeper was positioned.

My moment had come. That once- in-a-lifetime opportunity to be a hero. It was what is called a sitter in soccer parlance.

I unleashed one of my legendary thunderbolts. With the goalkeeper completely beaten, I knew when my foot connected with the leather ball and soared rugby-style that I was a zero.

I slumped on my back and wished for the earth to swallow me as the supporters who could not believe what they had just witnessed howled in pain.

I felt like dying as we went to the showers after the game.

Looking back I can console myself today that my monumental blunder did not affect the value of the rand.

A week ago when President Jacob Zuma similarly blasted an opportunity above the South African goalposts when he sacked finance minister Nhlanhla Nene, the rand fell inside a pit toilet.

When he appointed Des Van Rooyen to replace Nene as the guardian of the purse, the rand was as worthless as cheap one-ply toilet paper.

Four days later, he “self-corrected ” and re-appointed Pravin Gordhan to his old position, leaving Van Rooyen with a world-record as the finance minister who served the shortest stint.

Van Rooyen must be feeling like a kid whose toys were confiscated by Father Christmas before he had even unwrapped the box.

Economists are still weighing the costs of three finance ministers in four days. Here ’ s to a Merry Xmas. Happy!