Where African Football’s Immense Potential Came To Life

Zito Madu’s AFCON Meditations from Morocco

Por Where Is Football

25 de January de 2026

It was raining in Casablanca when I stepped outside the Mohammed V International Airport a day before the final of the Africa Cup of Nations. I had turned 35 years old in the air, during the overnight flight. The trip to the final was both a work trip, to observe the best football that Africa had to offer, and a personal trip, for me to visit a country which I had known only through images, videos, and the imagination. I wanted to see both the highest form of football in the continent and Morocco in person for the first time.

Morocco is one of the leading tourist destinations in the world, and the top one in Africa, and so it is a place that you come into already “knowing” through the photos and videos showcasing its beauty. I had an idea of what the sands of the Sahara desert should feel like, about the history, culture, art of Casablanca and Marrakesh, and I had seen the beautiful blue waters of the coast, next to the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea, an endless amount of times on social media and in old movies.

As far as destinations that people would want to travel to, Morocco made perfect sense as the host of Africa’s biggest football tournament. But Morocco’s winning of the 2026 edition of the tournament wasn’t without scandal. The tournament acts as an advertisement of the greatness of African football as well as being a stage for the host country to promote tourism and flex its power and influence. Morocco's bid for the tournament was uncontested, and the withdrawal of countries like Algeria seemed to signal an alliance or at least influence with North African countries and a fragmentation with the rest of the continent. Even with their enormous investment into infrastructure to make sure the tournament was its best possible version, there was still tension going into the competition.

Where African Football’s Immense Potential Came To Life

To the credit of the host and the other teams, the tournament proceeded mostly without incident outside the kind of drama that makes international football a wonderful spectacle. The big teams showed up but there were still plenty of upsets, which showed that the gap between the giants of Africa and the upstarts was and is closing. This gap has never been about a lack of talent in the continent but a gap in the development of that talent. As more countries hopefully continue to invest in their footballing ecosystem, not just on the professional level, but in the grassroots where talent is first born and discovered, it will make for closer and more intense matches. Which will make for more dramatic tournaments, and new finalists and champions.

After all, it wasn’t that long ago that the Moroccan national team was losing in the early stages of AFCON and were absent from the World Cup stage for two decades. Now they’re one of the big powers of African football. And in the 2010s, Senegal were being eliminated in the AFCON group stages after finishing with no points and were missing the World Cup completely. Now they’re just outside the top ten of best teams in the world.

African football is full of immense potential, on an individual, national, and on a continental level, and it feels like a matter of time before it becomes the dominant force that it should be. There’s so much diversity of play and interpretation of the game by each culture and region, and as every AFCON tournament starts and proceeds, the watching world seems to suddenly remember just how good these teams and players are. They remember that beyond the tropes and stereotypes of what African football is, beyond the dancing, the chaos, and accusations of cheating, are incredible players from the largest and most diverse continent in the world. And for a month, these players and nations come together in competition to celebrate each other and showcase not only their individual talents and their cultural heritage, but a different idea of what football can be.

What makes AFCON great to watch on and off the field are the similarities and differences between the nations and people. You can see where their histories are intertwined and where they diverge, in their fashion, art, language, and the way that each team expresses itself on the field. This isn’t different from any continental tournament, but AFCON gives a greater range of these differences and similarities than it’s usually given credit for. Even within one country and one national team, there are such deep divergences that add to the meaning of these players representing their countries.

I spent the day before the final between Morocco and Senegal exploring the city of Rabat, where the final would be held. It was still raining and would rain for the whole weekend. I figured that the rain and cold, and Rabat’s status as the imperial city meant that things were more quiet than expected before such a big event. I visited the Yacoub al-Mansour Square to see Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, built by King Hassan II in honor of his father who led Morocco to independence from the French. There were some tourists there and a few people asking the tourists if they were going to the final, and if so, whether they had extra tickets to sell. A historic mausoleum and its adjacent mosque seemed like a strange place to be scalping for tickets but the love of football often supersedes everything, including decorum.

From there I went to the Mohammed VI Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art which opened back in 2014, which was showing a collection of different art from sculpture to photography. The exhibition that I was really interested in was the one on the photography and friendship between Bruno Barby and Marc Riboud. Both traveled the world taking photos of everything from everyday people and celebrations to militants and war, and the consequences of war. Riboud was one of the first European photographers to go to China and he kept returning to his favorite places like Poland and the Huang Shan mountains, while Bruno, who was born in Morocco, always found himself coming home to use his camera to capture and show the world the vibrant and rich culture that was so close to him. Bruno’s photos are fantastic. They don't necessarily humanize people, in the traditional way of saying “these people are just like us”, instead, it feels to me that his photos present people as they are. Bruno’s people are humans like everyone else, but in the images, you still see the distance that comes with the strangeness of being different. These people are different but the difference isn’t hostile. It’s just difference, and that can be exciting and inviting.

One of the photos that I liked most from the collection was taken by Bruno in 1981. It’s of a group of nine children in a Warsaw suburb. They’re playing around a broken down car. One child is standing on the hood of the car and another, in the center of the photo, is standing triumphantly on the car’s roof. Under the boy’s right arm is a ball. The boy looks proud, like he’s on top of the world.

The image feels like a great symbol to me on the importance and meaning of play. Regardless of the level that it’s done at, whether in that suburb or in the capital of Morocco, at the end of the day, the spirit of a child holding a ball on top of a car, proud of his achievement or victory, is what is the driving force of these games that we play and love to watch. The games are a space for finding joy, for connecting to others, for getting to know ourselves and the world, and for individuals, teams, and nations to express themselves. With so much scandal and money involved in the highest levels of sports like football, it’s easy to forget that at the heart of the game, what keeps it from simply being a business, what remains the heart and soul, is the spirit of a child standing with his ball around his friends.

From the museum, I went to see the ruins of the ancient city of Chellah. The site is rumored to have existed as a trading center since the Phoenician period, though the Roman period is stated as the time when it went from a trading post to being transformed into a culturally rich. The Romans filled it with baths, temples, homes, and markets of commercial activity. In the Islamic period, it transitioned to being a royal necropolis, with members of the dynasty being buried in the mausoleums there. Walking around the ruins, one is reminded not only of the greatness of human history but the depth of that history and its story that comes from different cultures colliding through time to produce monuments and histories made greater by that diversity.

Port cities, like Chellah, or Rabat to a greater extent, are great places to see how cultures and histories are often built through a collaboration with others, rather than in isolation. Sometimes it happens in conflict, as the result of a rejection of another power, but the remnants of that conflict still remain in the architecture, food, art, and often the language. In a way, no one or no people are made by themselves.

There were also lots of birds watching from their nests and stray cats crawling out of every hole in Chellah, the true owners and citizens of the ancient city now. Everything, every civilization, no matter how great or small, returns to nature eventually.

The next day, I woke up early to pick up my credentials and get to the Prince Moulay Abdellah Stadium. The stadium recently opened in September 2025, a few months before the tournament. It was built and designed as part of the infrastructure upgrade to host not only AFCON matches but also the semifinals of the 2030 World Cup. It took 24 months to complete. It has a capacity of 69,500 and whether it’s true or not, the reported attendance, its record attendance so far, came from the final that I was headed to, between Morocco and Senegal, where a reported 69,525 people were in attendance.

The company behind the design, Populous, describes the shape as such: “The Prince Moulay Abdellah Stadium features an iconic and unique parametrically-designed façade, while the design of the bowl places a premium on acoustics and atmosphere to amplify the passion of the Moroccan fans, with stands placed as close to the pitch as possible, amplifying crowd energy into a sonic wall.”

From the outside, the stadium looks like a bird’s nest. Like one of the stork nests that I saw in Chellah. The design is nice as an imitation of nature but also because it doesn’t look like so many of the stadiums that I’m used to seeing. Stadiums without much personality outside the money spent on building them. A bird’s nest is a fun change. It was also good to see that the stadium is designed so that no matter what seat you’re in, you have a good view of the field and game. Just because you can’t pay for the best tickets doesn’t mean that you should be punished.

By 3pm, fans were already crossing the multiple lines of security to get into the stadium. They were coming by the train and by car, before having to cross a bridge with a spiraling staircase on both sides. I learned through my exploration of Rabat and going back and forth from the bridge that Rabat is a land that will test your thigh strength and mental fortitude. It will make you climb hills and staircases that are so long that if you don’t start seeing the effort as a necessary spiritual trial, you will give up and turn back in search of comfort. I feel so much stronger in every way for having survived.

By the start of the match, the stadium, including the media areas, were so packed that journalists and photographers had to stand behind and on the side of the rows through the game. There were also a good amount of people in the streets outside watching the game on the big screens and on their phones. Naturally the stadium was packed with Moroccan fans but there were still a sizable number of Senegalese fans in bright yellow and green in their designated supporters section. They sang and danced for most of the match.

The bulk of regular time was played anxiously between both teams. They came into the final playing beautiful football, but both were so nervous in the final that the play quickly devolved into fouls and complaints. The nerves were understandable. Morocco were at home and their place in the final meant that they had the chance to finally win a title while Senegal had the opportunity to win their second AFCON championship in the last four years. One could announce itself with a title as a new superpower of Africa and the other could solidify itself as the leader of the pack. No one wanted to lose, and they played to avoid a loss rather than to snatch a win. The anxiety showed itself in both teams missing easy chances that they would have buried in any other match.

The most dramatic thing that was happening during regular time happened behind Senegal’s goal. The Senegalese reserve goalkeeper, Yehvann Diouf, was out there to protect starting keeper Édouard Mendy’s towel from the Moroccan ball boys. The ball boys had been captured on video stealing the towels of opposing keepers through the tournament, making it hard for the keepers to keep their gloves dry. Diouf refused to allow that to happen and there were videos of him being dragged and attacked by the ball boys as he kept the towel away from them.

That conflict was the complete opposite of what was happening between the two sets of fans, at least at that time. Around halftime, many people went to pray. And all over the stadium, including the media lounge, you could see a range of people praying together, making space for each other, and then hugging and sharing good conversation afterwards.

The scene of praying together was more aligned with the general vibe of the match and final until extra time. When I visited the Medina quarter earlier that day, Moroccan and Senegalese fans were crowded together singing and blowing whistles. People were draped in their country’s flags while taking photos together. It felt less like the typical buildup to a tense final and more of two sides wanting to celebrate their nations together. Not to say that this was a superior form of fandom, but it was strange to read the stories of certain fans disrupting the Senegalese team’s hotel, while in the general crowds, out in the city and outside the stadium, Moroccan fans were saying the phrase “Senegal rekk” and the Senegalese fans were marveling at Moroccan tea in the restaurants. There seemed to be an effort at a genuine cultural exchange and exploration even within the standard attempts at football hooliganism.

Yet the tension inside the stadium and on the field ended up boiling over because of a refereeing decision. In added time of regulation, the referee gave a penalty to Morocco right after disallowing a goal for Senegal without review. The officiating hadn’t been the best up to that point, and the Senegalese fans felt that they were being screwed over. They began fighting with security and the game was subsequently delayed for almost 20 minutes. In that delay, the Senegal coach Pape Thiaw told his team to leave the field in protest of the refereeing decision.

Everything that can be said about the officiating at AFCON has been said endlessly at previous tournaments but in summary, it is so disappointing that the combined effort to display and celebrate the best of African football is often thwarted by a lack of training and rigor by the officials. It’s usually not the fault of the officials either, I don’t believe that they have any malice towards one team or the other, but these moments show that investment in the structure of these tournaments should not only be in the stadiums and in the teams, but also in the officiating and structure of the games.

The decision also made things tense with the fans. There was growing discord at the delay on both sides, and some fans decided to leave as it felt that something bad may happen. But those who tried to leave were locked inside the stadium which had been surrounded by officers. A flood of officers came in from across the bridge outside. And by the end of the game, you couldn’t take four steps without passing one. Eventually, recognizing that caging people in would result in making the situation more tense, especially as fans began to attempt to jump and crawl outside, the officers released the pressure and allowed some outside.

At that same time this was happening, Senegal’s captain Sadio Mané went into the locker room and convinced his teammates to come back out. If they were going to lose, he said, they were going to lose fighting on the field. What had been a great tournament couldn’t end with the final being abandoned. And Senegal, as well as Morocco’s journey, deserved more than that. Even if the players and fans felt justifiably aggrieved.

The Senegalese players came back out. Then Brahim Diaz of Morocco stepped up to finally take the penalty. In one of the strangest moments in football history, and maybe thinking too much about the praise that would come if he had succeeded, Diaz chose to do a panenka penalty with his weak right foot. Rather than scoring and winning his country’s first ever AFCON trophy, the ball went into the hands of Mendy who wasn’t fooled. All of sudden, because of one moment of madness, what looked to be a dire situation for Senegal transformed into a moment of hope. They were still in the match and now they felt more motivated to win.

I was in the stadium when Diaz missed his penalty kick but outside in the rain, with the Senegalese fans watching on the TVs outside, when Senegal scored their winning goal through Pape Gueye. The LED screen surrounding the stadium changed into Senegal’s colors signalling the change in score. The screen showed the news a beat before the TVs announced it. The fans exploded in celebration. The stadium and the ground shook with their cheering. It’s truly incredible to see and feel the physical effects of shared emotion. A few thousand people can shake the ground. For the fans the victory wasn’t only a sporting victory, it was divine vindication. The ultimate form of “ball don’t lie”.

By the time the match was over, the streets outside were filled with Senegalese fans dancing and singing in the rain. I was drenched and shivering in the cold, as I was only stupidly wearing a white shirt. Fashion beats comfort most of the time but not in cold weather. As soon as the fans saw the camera that was on my side, many of them called me over asking me to record and take photos of them. Before long it was impossible to walk through the area or for any of the cars to leave. On my phone, I saw video after video of Senegalese fans celebrating all over the world, from Dakar to Harlem to Amsterdam. The tournament might have been hosted in Morocco, but it’s always when you see these videos of people in every corner of the world cheering and blowing their car horns that it becomes clear again just how widespread this sport is. It really crystallizes how much football means to people, and the power that it has in crossing borders of every kind.

Before I left the area around the stadium to try and find my way out of the rain and commotion that was sure to go on until the early hours of the morning, I was stopped by two fans who asked me to take a picture of them. One was a Senegalese fan and the other was Moroccan. The Moroccan fan had on an all red outfit underneath a black puffer jacket. The Senegalese fan had on a Senegal hoody and jogging pants. He had a Senegal flag wrapped around his torso like a sash. They stood proudly in the rain, happy together, with their arms around each other, posing for me. When I showed them the pictures, they hugged again.

I know the lasting image and memory of this AFCON tournament will be the fight and commotion that people will use as justification for their belief that this tournament is more chaotic than any other. But that was twenty minutes in a game that lasted almost two hours, and twenty minutes in a tournament that was held over a month. Along with those twenty minutes came some of the best football that the continent has ever produced. Stunning goals and dramatic moments that solidified the rebirth of old African superpowers and gave birth to new challengers. Drama will always be there because the players and teams are good and getting better. Explosive moments will come because of the rivalries and ambitions of the nations. The tension comes from the play, the differences and similarities of the teams and cultures, and their intertwined histories. It doesn't need a refereeing scandal to make it interesting. Even though that kind of drama and the sight of fans fighting with security can be exciting from a neutral’s perspective as an antidote to the sterile performance of football in other places, it often just reinforces the negative and reductive vision that people have of Africa and Africans.

When the story of this tournament is told in the future then, I hope it’s positioned as the beginning of a new era of African football. I hope it’s a pivotal period and event that makes Senegal, Morocco, and the other participating countries proud. I hope it’s the beginning of new stories of African football rather than a regurgitation of the same old clichés that limits and reduces the reality and potential of the game in the African continent.