By Raymond Siyaya Jnr.
There is an old analogy about a bird and a fish falling in love. The attraction may be genuine, but the relationship is doomed by reality: the bird belongs in the sky, the fish in the water. If either tries to live permanently in the other’s world, one of them will eventually perish.
Perhaps that is the most fitting metaphor for the brief and turbulent Masters FC relationship between forward Khuda Ike Muyaba and coach Peter Mponda.
Their reported parting of ways is more than another transfer-market development. It exposes a deeper question in football: what happens when a player who believes his reputation should command authority meets a coach whose philosophy is built around authority, accountability and collective discipline?
The answer, in this case, appears to be that the two worlds simply could not coexist.
Muyaba arrived at Masters carrying a reputation earned during a spectacular 2019 season with Silver Strikers, when he finished as Malawi’s Super League top scorer with 21 goals.
He even scored a hat-trick on the opening day of that campaign and helped Silver win the Airtel Top 8.
That season established him as one of Malawi’s most feared forwards.
But football careers are rarely defined by one brilliant season.
Since leaving Silver, Muyaba’s career has been characterised by movement across clubs and leagues, including Polokwane City, Tishreen in Syria, Richards Bay and Ma’an in Jordan.
His time at Polokwane included difficulties at the top level before he featured in the lower division, while his spell at Richards Bay produced only one league goal according to available records.
The issue, therefore, is not whether Muyaba possesses talent. He clearly does. The more uncomfortable question is whether his talent has been consistently matched by the professionalism, discipline and adaptability required to sustain a career at the highest level.
There have been warning signs before.
In 2019, Silver Strikers disciplined Muyaba for what the club described as gross misconduct involving insubordination, absenteeism and unsporting behaviour.
That history makes the Masters episode particularly significant.
According to reports, Muyaba joined Masters on a two-year contract but lasted only weeks before falling out with the technical panel and the hierarchy.
He made an impressive debut, contributing two assists in a 2-2 draw, yet his relationship with Mponda deteriorated after he was substituted before the hour mark against Mighty Wanderers.
For Muyaba, the substitution reportedly became a question of status.
For Mponda, it appears to have been a question of principle. And therein lies the collision.
Mponda has built his coaching reputation around the belief that no player’s reputation is greater than the team’s tactical requirements. He has openly defended making early substitutions when he believes a player is not performing or when the team’s structure needs immediate correction.
His philosophy is uncompromising: players are selected to serve the system, not the other way around.
That philosophy has produced results.
During his coaching career, Mponda has enjoyed significant success, including helping Silver Strikers end an 11-year wait for the league championship and collecting trophies during his time at FCB Nyasa Big Bullets.
At Masters, the same principle appears to be governing his dressing room.
This is where Muyaba and Mponda resemble the bird and the fish.
Muyaba’s world appears to demand recognition of his experience and reputation. Mponda’s world demands submission to tactical instructions and collective responsibility.
Neither principle is inherently wrong. A senior player deserves respect. But a coach must retain authority.
The danger begins when a player interprets substitution as disrespect while a coach interprets resistance as indiscipline.
Reports that Muyaba posted messages on social media questioning Mponda’s coaching credentials only widened the gap. Public criticism of a coach rarely strengthens the dressing room; instead, it creates competing centres of authority.
Mponda’s response—reportedly ordering Muyaba to train separately—was equally uncompromising. Then came the decisive moment: Masters president Alfred Gangata reportedly sided with his coach rather than allowing the dispute to undermine the technical hierarchy.
That decision may ultimately prove more important than Muyaba’s purported departure.
Masters FC has effectively answered a fundamental question: who runs the football team—the coach or the biggest-name player?
The club’s reported decision to allow Muyaba to leave after refunding his signing-on fee sends an unmistakable message. Nobody is bigger than Masters FC.
That does not mean Muyaba is finished. At 32, there is still time for him to rebuild his career. His talent has never been the central problem.
His challenge is converting talent into sustained professionalism and proving that his next chapter can be defined by consistency rather than controversy.
For Mponda, meanwhile, the episode is another test of leadership. Strong coaches must be able to manage big personalities without unnecessarily creating conflict.
But equally, players must understand that professional football is not a democracy where individual status determines tactical decisions.
A coach cannot surrender his authority every time a senior player disagrees with a substitution.
The bird and fish analogy, therefore, is not about declaring one party right and the other wrong. It is about compatibility.
Muyaba needs an environment where his experience and attacking qualities can flourish. Mponda needs players willing to accept his tactical demands without challenging the chain of command.
Perhaps Masters simply became the wrong ecosystem for both. And sometimes, in football, the most sensible decision is not to force the bird to swim or the fish to fly.
Leave a Reply