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Matthew Booth stood at a Johannesburg microphone this week and delivered the kind of tribute that silences a room — raw, unhurried, and aimed squarely at the man he credits with reshaping South African football: Ephraim "Shakes" Mashaba.
The towering former Bafana Bafana centre-back, who earned 51 caps across a celebrated national team career, described Mashaba as a coach who understood the South African footballer's soul in ways that foreign technical directors never could. Booth told journalists that Mashaba's tactical clarity and fierce belief in domestic talent gave an entire generation of players the confidence to compete on continental stages without apology.
South African Football Association spokesperson Dominic Chimhavi confirmed the federation welcomes such recognition, noting that Mashaba's contributions during multiple stints with the national squad merit far deeper institutional acknowledgement. Football figures across Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal echoed the sentiment on social media within hours, with former Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates veterans adding their own salutes.
Mashaba, now in his eighties, guided Bafana Bafana through two separate tenures — the first during the turbulent post-isolation years of the 1990s and a celebrated return that nearly secured World Cup qualification for Russia 2018. His demanding standards and refusal to compromise squad discipline earned him fierce loyalty from players who understood his vision, even when administrators grew impatient with his outspoken manner.
What struck observers most about Booth's tribute was one specific memory the 47-year-old shared openly: Mashaba once kept the entire squad behind after a Loftus Versfeld warm-up session, drew a fresh tactical grid on a portable whiteboard in driving Pretoria wind, and refused to dismiss a single question until every defender grasped the pressing trigger. "That whiteboard blew over twice," Booth recounted, grinning. "He picked it up both times and kept drawing."
As Mashaba's health remains a private matter and no formal national honours ceremony has yet been scheduled, a pressing question now lingers among South Africa's football fraternity: will the country find a fitting, permanent way to celebrate a coaching pioneer who built belief into a squad long before the resources or infrastructure matched the ambition — or will the tributes remain only words spoken into microphones?