Kasi flavour or football folly? Why South Africa’s showboating culture is holding players back
I have not attended off-season kasi tournaments for some time and I used to be a big fan. I would zig-zag across Gauteng, from the East Rand, where I was christened, to Soweto where the kasi games were birthed, to the Vaal where you could easily find some of the greatest talent in the country. It was also not surprising to end up in Pitori Mahlanyeng in search of some entertainment when the PSL had its Christmas break. The love of raw, unscripted diski took us to places far and beyond — and it w

AI summary
I have not attended off-season kasi tournaments for some time and I used to be a big fan. I would zig-zag across Gauteng, from the East Rand, where I was christened, to Soweto where the kasi games were birthed, to the Vaal where you could easily find some of the greatest talent in the country.
It was also not surprising to end up in Pitori Mahlanyeng in search of some entertainment when the PSL had its Christmas break. The love of raw, unscripted diski took us to places far and beyond — and it was worth every minute.
I have stopped attending the kasi games and there is a reason for that.
Theatrics
I cannot stand the theatrical showboating and the ridiculous, so-called dribbling trickery masquerading as kasi flavour.
The sight of grown-ass men rolling on their bellies, dancing on their knees with the ball or jumping up and down like toddlers doing jumping jacks galls me.
Its proponents are claiming that it is part of our culture and diski DNA.
I see it’s creeping back into the Betway Premiership.
After the likes of Thabo Rakhale, Khethokwakhe Masuku, Ntsako “Never Die” Makhubela and Thabo Qalinge hung up their showboating boots, Orlando Pirates’ tiny-tots Mpho “PhoPho” Padime and Simphiwe Masilela are taking the baton. Kaizer Chiefs’ Mfundo Vilakazi is also always tempted to unleash a trick or two, unprovoked.
Celebrated spectacle
The problem with the dribbling trickery is that while it’s a highly celebrated community spectacle, more often than not, it becomes a hub for purposeless showboating.
Kasi flavour makes one ponder whether this flair is a crucial, crowd-pleasing expression of South African football culture or an unproductive habit that hinders players from building successful international careers.
I have a different take on the topic.
I am told that when the legendary dribbling wizard Vusi “Computer” Lamola first joined Kaizer Chiefs, right after the first whistle blew and the ball was rolled back from the centre, his first touch for Amakhosi was to stand on top of the ball, wave his hands and greet the Chiefs fans. The Chiefs crowd went wild. It was a bold warning to the opposition that he was going to dribble them until the last minute.
He did not wait for the opposition to be down and out — he was brave enough to take them on from the first minute.
Reserved for cowards
To me, showboating, when the scoreline is 4-0 is for cowards, for those who want to kick a man when he is down.
Why not start the fight when your opponent is strong and virile, so that they can return the punch? Or exchange dribbling skills when things are even?
Orlando Pirates coach Abdeslam Ouaddou, previously criticised players for unnecessary showboating, also likening the practice to a “circus”. He slammed unnecessary showboating, time-wasting and “sterile possession” early in matches when games were in the balance, threatening that players who prioritise tricks over winning would not play under him.
But he adjusted his tune after being delighted by a 4-0 panel-beating of African Stars at the Orlando Stadium — the true home of dribbling skills and trickery in the 1970s and 1980s. This was a venue where the likes of Moroka Swallows stalwart Joseph “Carlton” Moloi, Orlando Pirates’ talisman Percy “Chippa Chippa” Moloi and Kaizer “Chincha Guluva” Motaung, who went on to form Kaizer Chiefs, would spend their weekends dribbling the living daylights out of one another.
Later, it was Jomo Sono, Nelson “Teenage” Dladla, Joel Ace Mnini, Zebulon “Sputla” Nhlapo, Kagiso “Zero My Hero” Mogale, Pule “Ace” Ntsoelengoe, Jan “Malombo” Lichaba and Andries “Six Mabone” Maseko, to mention but a few, who juggled the pig skin with gay abandon at Esgodini sikaMaminzela, as the Orlando stadium is affectionately known.
The difference, however, is that these legends were not stationary when they performed their tricks. An opponent and his teammates would be left eating carrots and admiring the beautiful skills as a goal would be scored or, at the very least, created.
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About this article
- Length
- 669 words · 3 min read
- Published
- November 1, 2026
- Byline
- Kgomotso Mokoena
- Source
- Sunday World