Chiefs Academy Boardroom
The Kaizer Chiefs Academy boardroom was tense.
Polished tables. Framed jerseys of legends. Executives in suits.
Mkhize stood at the far end, fresh fade, notebook tucked under his arm. He looked sharper than ever, but inside he carried a storm.
Academy Director:
"So, Mkhize. You've been quiet since your return. Who's the boy this time? He better not be another 'project.' We don't have time for failed experiments."
Mkhize slid a photo across the table Kabelo, skinny frame, wild grin, oversized kit.
Executive #2:
"Hayi, this one looks like he still plays in the streets."
Mkhize:
"Exactly. That's what makes him dangerous. He has raw instincts no academy has coached out of him. Ball sticks to his feet. He's fearless. You put him in a structured environment, he'll fly."
The Director leaned back, unimpressed.
Director:
"We're under pressure. Sponsors want results. We can't risk our name on kasi boys with torn boots."
Mkhize's voice hardened.
Mkhize:
"Chiefs was built on kasi football. If we forget that, we forget who we are. Kabelo is the kind of player who can bring that spirit back."
Silence. The weight of his words hung heavy. Finally, the Director exhaled.
Director:
"Fine. Bring him for a two-week assessment. But Mkhize if he flops, it's on you."
Mkhize nodded, hiding the small smile tugging at his lips. He'd won round one.
Chapter – Semi-Final: Gauteng vs Western Cape
Meanwhile, Naledi's team stepped onto the pitch under the Cape Town sun. The semi-final. Scouts lined the fences, clipboards out, murmuring.
Western Cape's girls were fast, technical, and ruthless. They pressed high, forcing Gauteng's defense to crumble early. 1–0 down in the first ten minutes.
On the sideline, Naledi's pulse hammered. She shouted, adjusting formations, but Cape scored again. 2–0. Parents from Gauteng sat in silence.
Halftime. In the locker room, her players stared at the floor, heads low.
Naledi: (calm but firm)
"They're faster, yes. They're stronger, yes. But are they braver? No. That's our weapon. Stop playing scared. Take risks. Fight like this is your last match ever."
She locked eyes with her captain.
Naledi: "Lead them. If you fall, fall fighting."
Second half. Gauteng came out like lions.
Quick goal, 2–1.
Equalizer in the 70th minute.
Final ten minutes chaos. Tackles flying, crowd screaming.
In the 88th minute, Gauteng's winger cut inside, unleashed a strike. Top corner. 3–2.
Naledi punched the air, tears in her eyes. Her girls had done it. They were going to the finals.
As the whistle blew, scouts scribbled furiously in their notes. Reporters snapped Naledi's picture the young coach who had just knocked Western Cape out.
Two Paths, One Future
That night, Naledi called Mkhize.
Naledi: (breathless)
"We're in the final, Mkhize. Can you believe it?"
Mkhize: (smiling)
"I can. You've always had it. And guess what Chiefs said yes. Kabelo's coming in for trials."
For a moment, neither spoke both realizing they were standing at the edge of something bigger than themselves.
Naledi:
"Feels like we're building something, doesn't it?"
Mkhize:
"Not building. Rebuilding. The future."