By Muhammed Lamin Drammeh
Let me start with something imperative. The institutions I serve as secretary general, the Sports Journalists Association SJAG is not responsible for a single thought you are about to read here. This is mine, fully mine, sitting in my dormitory in Beijing, doing a reflection on the future of Gambian football.
I am writing about my frustration, hope, and love for a game that has given me everything and taken nothing back.
Gambian football is bleeding, though not visibly, or dramatically, but persistently. The blood is the eroded trust between the federation, the public, and its stakeholders, as well as the talent wasted on substandard pitches. It is also about the young player who trains every day but is unsure about his future.
A player whose career ends prematurely because of an injury that proper medical care could have treated. It is also about the female footballer who trains with hope but without real opportunity because of lack of investment. What about the club presidents who make incredible sacrifices to pay players and taking care of them because the league offers no sustainable income?.
Even in areas like youth football where we often have reason to celebrate because of the outstanding performances of our youth teams, and the importation of some of the players to Europe, we have never in reality , built a system that turned such success into a sustainable achievement, rather than an exception.
We have never constructed a strong foundation that turns individual brilliance into national dominance, and that is the difference between The Gambia and football nations we admire. They have systems while we have only moments. They have professional structures as opposed to our amateur improvisations. They have accountability and we have excuses.
So as the Lamin Kaba Bajo administration leaves office in August after a solid 12 years of trying their best let us reflect on their successes, I bet if you ask them about their biggest accomplishment in 12 years; their reply will surely be a back-to-back qualification of Afcon. True, this is an achievement, but should that be all?
I have interviewed or discussed with players and club owners, on benches at football grounds, watching talented teenagers destroy their knees on pitches that resembled battlefields. I have listened to club presidents describe how they use money meant for their families or business to pay their players. I have seen women national team players train without proper boots while officials drive new cars. I have seen age-cheating scandals bring sanctions upon our nation, embarrassing us in front of the continent. I have watched promising youth careers evaporate because there was no pathway from the Under-17 team to the senior squad. I have watched the Gambia Football Federation drift from one issue to another, offering statements instead of solutions, excuses instead of action. And I am tired. Not angry. Not bitter, just tired of loving a game that does not seem to love itself enough to demand better.
Look across our border to Senegal, a country that was once where we are now.They had talent, passion and fans but lacked systems. Then they decided to build by investing in infrastructure, a better league, creating better pathways from the grassroots to the senior national team. They also built a federation that worked in partnership with the government rather than against it. And what happened? They qualified for back-to-back World Cups. They won the Africa Cup of Nations twice. They are the best in Africa in almost all categories of male football. Their players grace the biggest clubs in Europe. Their football economy generates revenue instead of consuming it. Their football fans walk with pride, not with excuses. And you see, there is no magic in Senegal. There is no secret ingredient they have that we cannot obtain. They chose to build. They chose competence. They chose accountability. The only difference between them and us is leadership. That is the only difference. And it is a difference we can close.
So this naturally leads us to talk about the GFF president we need in August. That person must not be a politician because we had them before with their unfulfilled promises. This time we need leaders who treat the GFF leadership positions as jobs, not titles. We need a builder, not someone who just attend meetings. The president we need is someone who understands that football is not just a passion, but also a business. It is budgets, revenue streams, procurement policies, and legal compliance. It is monitoring and evaluation. It is strategic planning. It is all the unglamorous work that happens before the beautiful game can be played. We have had enough romantics. We now need realists who still dream.
The president we need is someone who has seen how the rest of the world does football and is determined to build the same here. The president we need is someone with a plan written down, not just stored in memory. Not vague aspirations about development and progress, but specific commitments with specific timelines. A twelve-month calendar, club excellence programme with measurable pillars. A prize money table with real numbers. A first-hundred-days checklist that anyone can verify. And most importantly, the president we need is someone who welcomes accountability. Who does not fear scrutiny because there is nothing to hide. Who will open the books, publish the decisions, and submit them to an independent audit? Who will say, clearly and publicly: “Here is what I promised. Here is what I have done. Judge me.”
We also need something else that has been missing for too long: a working relationship between the GFF President and the Minister of Sports. This is not a competition. It should never have been a competition. The GFF and the Ministry are two legs of the same body. When they pull in opposite directions, the body falls. When they work together, the body moves forward. We need a GFF President who sees the Minister as a partner, not an opponent. Who understands that the government has resources, land, policy influence, and international relationships that can accelerate football development? Who will sit down with the Minister and say, “Here is our plan. Where can you help? Where can we help you?” And we need a Minister who sees the GFF as a serious institution worthy of partnership. Not a rival. Not a problem to be managed. A partner. The Senegalese model works because their federation and their ministry communicate. They coordinate. They do not compete. They understand that the success of football is a national project, not a personal achievement. That is the relationship we must demand from both sides. A GFF President who builds bridges, not walls. A Minister who supports, not suffocates. Together, they can deliver what neither can deliver alone.
Now imagine, for a moment, a different Gambian football. Imagine every region having at least one good pitch that meets international standards. Not luxury. Basic decency. A surface that does not destroy knees and ankles. A playing field that allows talent to express itself without fear of injury. Imagine a professional league. Not because it sounds good, but because professional contracts mean players can focus on football instead of surviving. Professional structures mean clubs can plan beyond the next match. Professional standards mean that The Gambia becomes a destination for scouts, not a transit point. Imagine women’s football receiving the same investment as men’s football. Direct affiliation for women’s clubs. Seats at the decision-making table. Dedicated programmes that develop talent from primary school to the senior national team. Not because it is charitable, but because it is smart. Half our population is female. We have been ignoring half our talent pool. That is not tradition, it is a missed opportunity.
Imagine a digital database that registers every young player from an early age. No more age-cheating. No more sanctions. No more embarrassment. Just clean, honest youth football that scouts can trust and parents can believe in. Imagine a medical scheme for every league player. Not gold-plated healthcare. Basic protection. A player who suffers a career-threatening injury should not also suffer bankruptcy. A player who gives everything to the game should receive something back when the game breaks his body. Imagine a federation that communicates openly. Regular briefings. Published decisions. A brand and communication department that closes the information gap instead of exploiting it. A federation that treats the media as partners, not adversaries. This is not fantasy. This is not impossible. This is what Senegal has. This is what every serious football nation already has. This is what we have been denied.
Here is what I will ask any candidate who seeks my support. Show me your plan. Not your slogans. Not your vision statement. Your actual, written-down, step-by-step plan. What will you do in the first one hundred days? What will you do in the first year? How will you measure success? How will we know if you have failed? Show me your team. Who will sit beside you? What experience do they bring? What specific responsibilities will they hold? Are they independent voices or loyal followers? Will they challenge you when you are wrong? Show me your financial plan. Where will the money come from? Where will it go? How will you reduce dependence on Fifa subventions? How will you commercialise our assets? How will you ensure that every dalasi is accounted for? Show me your commitment to transparency. Will you open the books? Will you publish procurement decisions? Will you establish independent audit and judicial committees? Will you subject yourself to the same scrutiny you demand of others? And most importantly, show me that you have done this work before, not just attending meetings about it, or forming committees to study it. Have you actually done it, example run an organisation, managed a budget, built a team or delivered results?
I will not support speeches anymore. I will not be impressed by endorsements from people who have failed us before. I will support competence. I will support accountability. I will vote for someone who has already proven that he can do the job before asking for the title.
I write this not as a journalist or stakeholder seeking a story, but as a Gambian who loves football more than is reasonable. I write this as someone who has seen the game’s power to unite, to inspire, to transform. I have seen children forget their hunger for ninety minutes because a ball is at their feet. I have seen communities set aside differences because their team is winning. I have seen the raw, beautiful, inexplicable joy that only football can produce. That joy is our birthright. It has been stolen from us by poor governance, by amateur structures, by leaders who treated the GFF as personal property rather than public trust. We must take it back. Not through anger. Through action. Through demanding better. Through refusing to accept the unacceptable. Through voting for competence over connection, for plan over promise, for accountability over allegiance.
Gambian football stands at a threshold. Behind us lie years of frustration, underdevelopment, and eroded trust. Ahead lies the possibility of professional leagues, world-class infrastructure, empowered women’s football, protected players, and a federation that serves and not self-enrichment. The threshold is not automatic. It requires a choice. It requires us to select a leader who has the experience, the plan, the team, and the integrity to walk through it. Several candidates are presenting themselves now. Each deserves to be heard. Each deserves to be judged on their record and their vision. As stakeholders, our duty is to listen carefully, to ask hard questions, and to choose not based on loyalty or sentiment, but on competence and accountability.
I do not know about you, but I am done with excuses. I am done with waiting. I am done with watching other nations celebrate while we explain. Our talent is not the problem. Our passion is not the problem. Our fans are not the problem. Our leadership has been the problem. It is time to change that.
For the good of our game and country.
About the Author
ML Drammeh is a Gambian football stakeholder, journalist, and lifelong fan of the beautiful game. He’s currently doing his master’s degree in Beijing, China.
