I hit stardom at an early age plus I had a bright head on my shoulders. Magogo was forever so proud of me and so was my father and sister. But then we started having some difficulties on account of my struggle with liquor. The boys would always go out drinking after a game, and I would go along, even though I was still underage. Soon my game began to suffer.

I remember when I started drinking heavily, Magogo and M’dala would stay up all night preparing for the worst while praying for the best. “Thabo mntwanami, I don’t know what has happened to you, but you are my grandchild and I’m here for you,” Magogo would say.

M’dala would put his hand on my shoulder. “Thabo, my boy, Magogo and I love and support you very much. I know things haven’t been the same since your mother packed up and left us, but I am doing my best working in the mines. Don’t waste your talents, you have a bright head on your shoulders.”

I suppose I understand why my father doesn’t want me to run around Mrova like a headless chicken, a boy with no prospects, because Mrova feeds of people like that. A young man with plenty potential could end up losing it all because of alcohol.

I tried my best not to come home drunk, but sometimes shit happened. Magogo was always there to shelter me from harm and encourage me, but she wasn’t the only person who gave me a kick in the behind to help me become the best version of myself.

One day I showed up for a match drunk, and coach Dawie had no choice but to drop me from the team. I walked home and was sitting outside on the lawn just trying to figure out what went wrong with me, when Mondli came over and sat down beside me. Mondli was one of my close friends from Ekuthuleni. We sat and talked about music for about an hour, before Mondli decided to speak his mind.

“Bro, you know this is not the way to live. We need to change our lifestyle,” he paused, “we can’t live like there are no consequences.”

I nodded. “You’re right, but sometimes life throws so many obstacles your way, it seems like the only way out is through a bottle of chilled Zamalek!”

Mondli shook his head. “I feel you bro, but the way you and the gents are doing it, is going overboard. You and I need to sit down and reshuffle our priorities.”

I nodded. “That will be difficult, because liquor is my escape,” I said calmly.

Mondli turned to me with a serious face. “Now you’re talking nonsense, you’re just making silly excuses.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Ek sê Ranger! Grow a pair, you’re no longer that twelve-year-old kasi star, you’re grown now. You’ve even got a kid and so do I. So for the sake of our kids let’s do the right thing!” he exclaimed. Then he stood up and walked away.

I sat there on the lawn thinking, Hau where’s Mondli going? I thought we were still talking. He just left me with those words and no goodbye. I didn’t understand, until I saw Mashamplane making his way around Mabhoko church. There was bad blood between Mondli and Mashamplane.

Mashamplane came to join me on the lawn. “Ek sê mntwana! Manje asambe siyothenga two nyana just two beers my bro, that’s all I am asking for.”

I took a long look at him, then gave in. “Two beers and then siyabuya!”

I should have known better than to take Mashamplane at his word.

Tell us: What would you say to Ranger?