He bulldozed his way into the senior Kaizer Chiefs starting line-up at a precocious 17, the age only the most gifted, like the legendary Pele, make their mark in soccer.
Junior Khanye was different. That much was acknowledged by no less football authorities than the late Patrick Ace Ntsoelengoe and Ted Dumitru.
But did he listen? No. He was fated not to. He was born to grace the soccer pitch with his brilliance as momentarily and with such force, as a flash of lightning lights up the sky. Any thought to the contrary is just wishful thinking, opposed to reality.
The author perhaps puts it better when he writes: “Many people assumed that Junior was just another tragedy of South African football – just like so many others who did not know how to handle instant wealth and fame.”
Junior is THE South African football tragedy; not one of them. Cricket and rugby do not have such casualties. The soccer bosses need to interrogate this anomaly. He was born with oodles of talent. But whether or not he’d use it to full potential was always doubtful. In fact, the writing was always on the wall that his wayward behaviour was not made for the game.
At his wits’ end, a disappointed Bobby Motaung, team manager at Chiefs, evinces this realisation when he eventually drops the bombshell that the club had decided to release Junior from his contract.
They are under strict orders to observe a curfew. All his fellow players duly leave the club to be back on time at the hotel except … no prizes for guessing who.
His untoward behaviour is a matter of black magic, witchcraft. There is no explanation why he did what he was not supposed to do, so religiously.
If he scored as many goals as he apologised, he’d easily have surpassed Pele, the great Brazilian maestro’s own tally of a 1 000-plus.
At the height of his brilliance, he is the family’s breadwinner. It is not rocket science that he should be. He demolishes the family zozo to build them a decent dwelling.
But he leaves it unfinished because his money is spent elsewhere – on booze and other distractions. His GTI is repossessed for lack of payment.
He has a predilection to crashing cars, rather than keeping them on the road.
It is only because of the acknowledgement of his humanity that one is averse to describing Junior’s life in football as a tragi-comedy.
His father, later murdered in cold blood, had the foreboding that football would bring his son nothing but trouble. Fate is not cruel. Junior’s life story was destined to be a lesson for others. Post-football, this is what he does, going on speaking engagements. There’s a lot to learn from this tragedy, especially on how not to do things.
He is the father of three boys with Charmaine, a schoolgirl who fell for him while he still spotted his trademark blonde hairstyle and was a menace to the opposition on the field.
You cannot read this book without being angry, noting how the clich̩d bad company ruins lives or how a bit of education Рwhich the former football genius lacks, could have helped him somewhat.
It is by grace or, that word again, fate, that Junior remains such a muchloved character. This one is for schoolboys imbued with sporting talent, who want to navigate the minefield of life as sports heroes. Read it and weep, oops, and learn!
The book is published by Tafelberg and retails for R250.
