Let me start by saying this: I genuinely believed Bafana Bafana were going to win the AFCON this year. So when we got eliminated after a 2–1 loss to Cameroon in the Round of 16, it stung. Not just because of the result, but because of what came before it. At the previous AFCON, we finished third. That mattered. It felt like a turning point, a moment where belief had finally found its footing again.

As always, the aftermath came with opinions. Who should’ve started. Which formation we should’ve gone with. Whether the substitutions came too late. Those conversations are inevitable, and honestly, they’re welcome. Debate is part of football’s language. Critique is often just another form of care. You don’t analyse what you’re indifferent to.

But somewhere between the tactical breakdowns and the post-match emotions, I heard something that stayed with me.

“If you actually watched football, you’d know we didn’t stand a chance.”

Maybe the numbers didn’t favour us. Sometimes they don’t. But that statement made me pause not because it might be statistically accurate, but because of what it quietly suggests. If the data says no, does that mean belief is foolish? Does it mean support should be cautious, conditional, or muted?

If that’s the case, then what is the point of supporting a team at all?

Football fandom is emotional by design. Data informs analysis, not support.

When it comes to a national team, I don’t think support should be optional. We’re allowed to disagree with the coaching staff. We’re allowed to question selections, shapes, and decisions. That’s part of loving the game. But disagreement doesn’t cancel loyalty. It doesn’t revoke belief.

Ironically, the people who shout “data only” often struggle to explain why sport matters to anyone beyond numbers. Why ninety minutes can carry so much weight. Why a missed chance lingers. Why a win feels communal even among strangers.

Data explains results. Feelings explain why we care. Both can exist.

Analysis and fandom aren’t the same thing and that’s okay.

We support Bafana Bafana because they are ours. Because they carry South Africa onto the biggest football stage on the continent. Because while they’re chasing a ball, they’re also carrying a country that is complex, divided, hopeful, and still learning how to believe in itself consistently.

Sport has never promised certainty. What it offers instead is something far more fragile and far more powerful: hope.

So yes, we exited AFCON earlier than we wanted. Yes, emotions are high. Yes, people are calling for change, and I understand where that impulse comes from. Loss demands somewhere to land. But real support doesn’t come with terms and conditions.

Bafana Bafana is my Man Crush Monday not because they are perfect, but because loving a national team isn’t about outcomes. It’s about showing up anyway!