By Sheldon Hakata and Evans Mushawevato
IN football, few things match the collective roar of fans rising in unison, the trembling ground beneath stamping feet, or the smell of freshly cut turf on a matchday. Stadiums are more than concrete, steel and seating; they are spiritual homes. They are vessels of joy, heartbreak, triumph and tradition. In Zimbabwe, however, our stadiums are in crisis. What was once sacred ground is now a sad story of decay, missed opportunities and bureaucratic inertia.
Across the globe, football clubs and cities have invested in stadiums not only as physical structures but also as the beating hearts of their communities. From the electric atmosphere of Anfield to the architectural marvel
of the Allianz Arena, stadiums are places where stories are born and legends are written. It is time for Zimbabwe to reimagine the power of stadium ownership and understand its true value, not just to the clubs, but to society as a whole.
Every stadium tells a story. Manchester United’s Old Trafford, nicknamed the ‘Theatre of Dreams’, is more than just 74 000 seats and a pristine pitch. It’s the site of countless iconic moments, from last-minute goals to the emotional tributes that unite generations of fans. It
reflects a legacy.
Similarly, FC Barcelona’s Camp Nou, currently under renovation, is a symbol of Catalan identity. It has stood for decades as a fortress of footballing brilliance and local pride. The same can be said of the Santiago Bernabéu in Madrid or Juventus’ Allianz Stadium in Turin. These are not just buildings; they are sanctuaries where com- munities gather, and where the emotional and economic heart of a city pulses.
Yet, in Zimbabwe, our own Gwanzura, Rufaro, and Mucheke stadiums have become shadowy relics of their former selves, neglected, broken and echoing with lost potential. While memories remain, the infrastructure to create new ones has crumbled.
In Zimbabwe, stadiums are typically owned by municipalities. At face value, this sounds logical; public property for public use. However, the reality is that local authorities are burdened with numerous responsibilities and football often falls low on their list of priorities. In- frastructure suffers as a result.
Football clubs have no power to renovate stadiums they don’t own. Why would a club invest millions in repairs and upgrades, only to be told the stadium is no longer available? Ownership is about control, long-term
planning, and sustainability. Without it, clubs are renters in their own homes.
This lack of ownership has left our clubs vulnerable. Dynamos, CAPS United, Highlanders, teams supposed to be giants of Zimbabwean football, have been forced to play in dilapidated facilities, some even being denied access to their traditional grounds. The result is not only poor play- ing conditions but a loss of identity.
And the so-called giants are also to blame none has built a stadium of their own.
Owning a stadium is a game-changer. It allows clubs to design and tailor their facilities to suit their needs and the needs of their fans. It opens up new revenue streams, from ticket sales and merchan- dising to naming rights and concerts.
Take Arsenal’s Emirates Stadium. Built in 2006, it has transformed the club’s financial fortunes. Beyond football, it hosts events, attracts tourism, and supports hundreds of jobs. In Germany, Bayern Munich’s Allianz Arena is not only a fortress for the club but a centre for the Bavarian economy. LED-lit and stunning, it draws fans from around the globe.
In the US, stadiums like AT&T Stadium (home of the Dallas Cowboys) are multi- functional entertainment hubs, complete with retail spaces, restaurants, and hotels. They become landmarks, destinations in their own right.
Imagine if Zimbabwean clubs could do the same. If Highlanders had their own stadium in Bulawayo, fully customised, monetised, and modernised, it would rejuvenate the club and the city. If CAPS
United could own a facility in Harare, the Green Machine would roar louder than ever.
There is something intangible but deeply real about playing at home. It’s not just about knowing the pitch. It’s the familiarity, the support, the psychological edge. Studies show that teams playing at home win significantly more often, partly due to crowd support and comfort.
Yet our national team, The Warriors, has been forced to play home matches in South Africa. The shame of this cannot be overstated. We lose the advantage, the atmosphere, the gate receipts. More im- portantly, we lose our dignity.
Stadiums are fortresses. They are places where fans wear their colors proudly and sing their hearts out. Playing away means handing over that sacred ground to others. No matter how generous the host, you’re never truly at home.
Zimbabwe has declared Vision 2030: a roadmap towards an upper-middle-income economy. Infrastructure development is key to this vision. Roads are being built, dams constructed, and technology adopted. But where does sport fit in?
Sport is a billion-dollar industry. Beyond its cultural value, it has real economic weight. A modern stadium can attract international matches, drawing in tourism and foreign investment. It can become a training ground for excellence, inspiring young athletes and creating jobs.
If Zimbabwe wants to be taken seriously on the global stage, our infrastructure must match our ambition. Let’s build
stadiums that inspire, that honour our past and embrace the future. Let’s think beyond the 90 minutes and see the full picture: employment, national pride, global visibility.
Innovation doesn’t have to be imported. Zimbabwe has plastic manufacturing companies and university innovation hubs. Why not challenge our engineers and students to develop low-cost, high-impact solutions for stadium construction and seating?
Recycled plastics can be molded into bucket seats. Local artisans can produce furniture, gates, and decor. This isn’t just an environmental initiative; it’s a chance to clean our cities, create jobs, and build a self-reliant model for development.
By investing in local production, we reduce costs and stimulate industry. University hubs could lead the charge partnering with clubs and councils to provide sustainable solutions.
At this point, laying blame is futile. What matters is action. ZIFA, local authorities, the private sector, and the nation must come together. Build partnerships. Explore public-private partnership models. Tap into Diaspora funding. Engage fans as stakeholders.
Imagine a crowdfunding campaign for a new Dynamos stadium. Imagine Highlanders owning a training facility sponsored by local businesses. Imagine ZIFA investing in a national stadium complex that serves as a sports village and youth academy.
We can find common ground. We can unite around football, a passion that transcends political, ethnic, and generational lines. Our teams deserve better. Our fans deserve more. And our country deserves stadiums we can be proud of.
Stadiums are where fathers take sons for the first time. Where mothers chant from the stands. Where fans scream, weep, and pray. They are where dreams come true, and sometimes, where they’re shattered. But above all, they are where we come alive.
They offer community. They offer identity. They offer hope. And in a country like Zimbabwe, where hope is a precious resource, stadiums can serve as light- houses in the dark.
Owning our stadiums means owning our destiny. It’s time we brought football home.
Let us dream, let us build, and let us roar again from stands that are ours. For
the game, for the people, for the future.
