From the notorius Cape Flats to stardom

EVEN when he banged in the goals, as a football fan, I was not besotted with Benni McCarthy.

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In my view, he was merely an entitled prima donna.

But I guess I was missing the point: I was judging him more on his off-field antics than his delivery on the pitch, the job he was paid to do.

No player in South African football has been the poster child of the dreaded country-versus-club tug-of-war than Benni McCarthy. Each time players were called up to do duty for the national squad, almost invariably, Benni would be at the centre of the row, throwing another tantrum to stay away.

Cue in the purpose of the biography, perchance the memoir.

In this book co-written with soccer scribe Mark Gleeson, Benni sets the record straight and places the blame squarely at the door of SAFA, the national football body.

Masters at bungling, there is no doubt, after reading these 191 pages, where the culpability lies. The soccer bosses failed, as they still do, to be the bigger person.