In a move that has sent shockwaves through the beautiful game and vindicated every hypochondriac who ever packed a hazmat suit for a trip to the shops, the Democratic Republic of Congo has cancelled its international friendly against Chile in Spain. The reason? Ebola.
Yes, Ebola. The big, bleeding, haemorrhagic elephant in the room. The Congolese Football Federation, in a rare fit of common sense, declared that the health of their players and the public was more important than the fleeting thrill of a friendly match.
'We cannot risk the spread of the virus,' they said, in a statement that was refreshingly free of footballing clichés about 'taking it one game at a time' or 'giving 110 percent.' The match, scheduled for a date that will now live in infamy only in the annals of cancelled sporting events, was deemed a public health risk. And who are we to argue?
After all, Ebola is not exactly a tactical problem you can solve by switching to a 4-4-2 formation. The news has sent the usual suspects into a frenzy, with social media ablaze with accusations of overreaction, racism, and a disturbingly widespread ignorance of epidemiology. The Spanish health authorities, no doubt relieved that they won't have to explain to Real Madrid fans why their star striker is suddenly bleeding from the eyes, have applauded the decision.
Meanwhile, the Chilean squad, who had presumably been practising their celebratory dances in anticipation of a victory over a team dealing with a lethal virus, are said to be 'disappointed but understanding.' Ah, the stiff upper lip of South American football. It's enough to make a grown journalist weep into his gin.
But this is not a story about football. This is a story about fear, risk, and the beautiful game's place in a world gone mad. It is a story about how the world's most popular sport, a multibillion-dollar industry that can make or break political careers, was brought low by a biological particle so small it cannot even be called alive.
It is a reminder that, for all our pretensions of control, we are still at the mercy of invisible forces that care not for our kickabouts. In the end, the cancellation is a victory for reason over spectacle, for public health over sporting glory. And yet, I can't help but feel a pang of sorrow for the fans who were denied the chance to see their heroes sweat over a leather ball.
Perhaps they can console themselves with the knowledge that they are alive. For now. And that, in a world of Ebola and friendly fire, is the best we can hope for.
So here's to you, DR Congo. You may have cancelled a football match, but you have won a moral victory. Or at least, you have avoided a PR disaster of biblical proportions.
And that's more than most of us can say.
