WHEN the inevitable messy ending came, it was rough — the public rejection by his fans, the psychological trauma of watching them cheer the opponents and the brutality of the confirmation he was yet another horrible gamble that backfired spectacularly.
His face had been transformed into a source of some sickening abuse on social media, his nickname was now being ridiculed as symptomatic of the man, and all his crippling weaknesses, and his profile had been battered by the negativity generated by a marriage made in hell.
Lloyd Chigowe walked alone for one last time carrying the identity of “Dynamos coach,” on Easter Monday, seeking the sanctuary of the dressing rooms as the mob hurled him with all sorts of insults, his lanky figure a symbol of hate for many and a picture of resignation for others.
The ultimate image of failure, consumed by the demands of the dream job he had always fancied, swallowed by the challenges that come with coaching this DeMbare, itself a pathetic imitation of the original Dynamos, the one which once ruled this kingdom.
All the bravado he had shown in the recent past, including terming himself the “Special One,’’ lost in the moment of failure and a sharp contrast to that queer smile he used to flash after his fire-fighting mission last season ended in an obscure triumph of beating relegation.
Some reports even say he wore a mask on Sunday, which is hard to deny given the rampaging mob outside who were demanding a pound of his flesh, to escape from the stadium, which until these Glamour Boys started to become a punching bag, represented their Theatre of Dreams.
What can’t be disputed is that he fled from everyone — the media who were waiting for him to explain how everything had fallen apart so spectacularly, the opposing coach who was waiting for a handshake and the mob baying for his blood.
He probably also fled from MaBlanyo, this figure of hate and failure, which had sleep-walked into a job that was clearly bigger than the sum of the parts of its football knowledge.
-State Media