Let Benni bounce into oblivion

Ah, the internationals week. A perfect time for the forgetfully inclined to suddenly remember the full extent of niggling injuries and writhe in pain to avoid an arduous trip back home for an irritating friendly.

The antics of Benni McCarthy last week highlighted the pitfalls of letting past glories go to your head. Benni is a shadow of the player he was at Porto — and a rather chunky shadow, if wide-ranging reports on his waistline are to be believed. He has fallen down the pecking order at Blackburn, again due to his diminishing pace to anything besides the club canteen after training.

This may all seem rather harsh and bitter, but nothing rankles more than when plonkers like McCarthy casually throw a middle finger at the self-same federation that gave them a passport to their fame and fortune. Benni now has a European Union passport, you see, which means playing games for Bafana is no longer a prerequisite for a work permit in the rich leagues of Europe.

To have the audacity to not turn up for Saturday’s Mandela Challenge was beyond belief, especially after his club gave him the blessing to go.

Yep, Blackburn actually gave him the all-clear, which perhaps was a thinly-veiled hint at how low Benni sits in Big Sam Allardyce’s plans right now.

“Go on, Benni, go and sweat in the African sun and drop a few pounds!”

But oh no, not our Benni.

He went as far as to say that he could barely walk, which is probably true because his movements have been reduced to just plain old wobbling since he rediscovered calories and sauces instead of carrots and sit-ups.

Benni has made a habit of elaborate stories to get out of international duty. Not for him the simple request to retire and put everyone out of their misery.

Last time it was the lack of a baby-sitter that made Mr McCarthy unavailable to serve his country. For crying out loud, when you earn half a million rand every week even the world’s most expensive nanny will hardly dent your bank balance.

The best thing that Bafana can do for themselves is move away from the Benni circus. Because you can rest assured that Benni will suddenly find his desire to play just before the Confederations Cup.

He will suddenly be proud to wear the green and gold, or spinach and mustard … or whatever retro colour combination Adidas has them modelling these days!

But the suits at Safa seem to continually duck the Benni question. Coach Santana made a vague statement about possibly not picking those players who don’t show enough commitment. Well, Senor Santana, that is about as threatening as Thabo Mbeki ever was to that Bob from across the dam.

Someone needs to have the balls to tell Benni that he is past it, and he no longer needs to worry about missing his nanny shifts or trying to wobble to his Bentley in order to catch the next flight to tiny Johannesburg. He can have the bright lights of Blackburn, for good. There are enough young, hungry — well, we are all underfed compared to Benni, it seems — strikers trying to make their mark on the world stage.

Give them a go, and let Benni wobble his way to anonymity.

Sadly, however, I don’t think the Safa bigwigs have the stomach to do this. To them, it seems, Benni will always be the kid who banged in four goals in the blink of an eye at the 1998 African Nations Cup.

They don’t seem to note that that goofy kid has grown to be too big for his boots. And a trifle too big for his training shirt, too.