In November 2023, I embarked on the Great West Africa Safari, an expedition across 11 West African countries. My hotel, Le Relais de Kaolack, in southern Senegal, lay gracefully perched on the right bank of the mighty Saloum River, its broad waters alive with a flurry of wings — cormorants, terns, gulls, darters, and ibis — just a few among the three million migratory birds that descend upon the Saloum Delta each winter. From my vantage point, sipping Coca-Cola, I watched fishermen in narrow wooden pirogues casting their nets in pursuit of groupers and carp, their silhouettes etched against the shimmer of river light.I lingered at the hotel’s breezy open-air bar, venturing beyond Coca-Cola into stronger territory. Like in much of West Africa, the bar televisions were tuned — without exception — to European football. Even the women at nearby tables followed the game with keen interest. Once my tongue had been suitably lubricated, I turned to the sharply dressed Senegalese gentleman perched on the next barstool and asked, “Does Senegal have a strong football team?”Advertisement“Ah, we are the best in Africa. Number 1,” he retorted.“And how have you performed in the FIFA World Cup?” I asked, continuing the conversation.“My brother, let me tell you why we Africans — despite having some of the finest footballers on Earth — can’t seem to get our act together at the World Cup.”Taking a long sip, he gestured dramatically.Advertisement“You’ve seen our very own Senegalese Sadio Mané, eh? That boy runs like a gazelle with a mission. And Mo Salah? The Egyptian Pharaoh with golden feet! Both of them are Liverpool legends. Riyad Mahrez — he’s dancing down the wing for Manchester City like it’s a wedding party in Algiers. Nigeria’s Wilfred Ndidi is holding midfield for Leicester. Chelsea? They have got Edouard Mendy — a Senegalese — in goal — and Hakim Ziyech curling balls like he’s cooking Moroccan tagine. Koulibaly — another one from Senegal — at Napoli? Wall of Dakar! Franck Kessié of the Ivory Coast? A midfield ox for AC Milan! And don’t forget Cameroon’s Choupo-Moting and Senegal’s Bouna Sarr playing for Bayern Munich — the Rolls-Royce of German football.”Lowering his voice, he continued: “So with all that talent, you ask — why do we flop at the World Cup like a goat on a trampoline?” Sighing, he waved at the barman for another round.Also Read | A World Cup of many homelands“Resources, my friend. Money. Infrastructure. Organisation. We’ve got talent, but our football federations sometimes run like a village committee planning a wedding with no bride. You lose the ball against Belgium or Italy, you may as well sit down and order lunch — you won’t see it again for ten minutes! And our style? Counter-attack! It’s exciting, sure. But we treat the ball like it’s a hot potato. Keep possession? No no, pass it forward and pray.”He laughed — half in frustration, half in pride.“Look at the FIFA rankings. Senegal — we are the kings of Africa, and still only 20th in the world. Right between Iran and Wales. Morocco’s next at 28th. Egypt? Way down at 45th. That’s below Canada! Even our passports are ranked higher.“If — if — we were allowed to send one combined African team? Oh-ho, the world would tremble. Imagine Mané, Salah, Mahrez, Mendy, Koulibaly playing together!”“But instead,” he says, draining his glass, “we divide our powers across 54 countries. One nation has speed, another has skill, a third has heart, and a fourth… well, they have nice jerseys.”“So until we fix the system, we’ll keep dreaming big, dancing after every goal, and crashing out just before it gets serious. But hey — at least we make the World Cup more colourful, no?” he chuckled.The Senegalese gentleman’s observations stayed with me long after I left Kaolack. At the time, his argument was simple: Africa possessed some of the world’s finest footballers but lacked the infrastructure, organisation, and resources needed to convert talent into World Cup success. Yet, as I watched the 2026 FIFA World Cup unfold this month, it struck me that African footballers had, in a sense, already conquered world football — not necessarily by winning the World Cup for African nations, but by becoming indispensable to Europe’s most powerful teams.At the France–Senegal match I attended at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey on June 16, the French side seemed almost a living illustration of my Senegalese friend’s argument. Many members of the French team traced their family roots to Africa. Players such as Kylian Mbappé, Ousmane Dembélé, Aurélien Tchouaméni, Dayot Upamecano, Jules Koundé and Michael Olise all have African ancestry. They are French citizens, born or raised in France, yet their family histories stretch across Cameroon, Senegal, Mali, Guinea-Bissau, Nigeria and other parts of Africa.France is hardly unique. Germany fields stars such as Antonio Rüdiger, Leroy Sané, and Jonathan Tah, all of whom have African roots. England has benefited from players including Bukayo Saka, Eberechi Eze, and others whose families came from Africa. Belgium’s Romelu Lukaku is the son of Congolese immigrants.Across Europe, national teams increasingly reflect the migration patterns, colonial histories, and multicultural societies that have emerged over the past half-century.The irony is difficult to miss. While African national teams still struggle to break through football’s highest glass ceiling, African talent has become a cornerstone of European football success. The world’s richest clubs and strongest national sides are filled with players whose parents or grandparents came from Dakar, Lagos, Accra, Abidjan, Yaoundé, Bamako, and Kinshasa.Perhaps my companion in the Kaolack bar had been right all along. Africa’s footballing problem was never a shortage of talent. There was a shortage of systems capable of nurturing and retaining that talent at home.Had Africa somehow fielded a single continental team, as he jokingly proposed over several increasingly animated drinks, the result might indeed have been terrifying for the rest of the footballing world. Imagine a squad drawn from the best of Senegal, Egypt, Morocco, Nigeria, Cameroon, Ghana, Algeria, and Côte d’Ivoire. One suspects that even the traditional powers of Europe and South America would view such a team with considerable unease.As the evening shadows lengthened over the Saloum River and the pirogues returned to shore with their catch, I remember my new friend raising his glass one final time.“We Africans,” he declared with absolute conviction, “already have the players. One day, we will also have the team.” Watching the FIFA World Cup in America this week, I found myself wondering whether that day may finally be drawing closer.Bakshi is the author of, among other books, Back to Gondwanaland