Kenya, battered yet proud, will step into the final Group F 2026 World Cup qualifiers against Seychelles with nothing tangible to fight for. No points that matter, no tables to climb. Only pride and the memory they leave behind.
In football, dreams often collide with reality, and Harambee Stars head coach Benni McCarthy has chosen reality—insisting Kenya’s CHAN 2024 heroes will not hog the stage against the archipelago located in the western Indian Ocean. The South African tactician, defiant yet measured, insists he will not yield to the clamour of fans who long to see the raw brilliance of Ryan Ogam, Alpha Onyango, and Boniface Muchiri on the biggest stage.
Instead, he demands a dignified farewell to the qualifiers—a curtain call of pride, not a gamble of sentiment. Football is a theatre of dreams, but McCarthy is preaching a gospel of caution. Kenyan fans are singing for their CHAN stars, yet McCarthy’s voice cuts through the chorus with the cold weight of reality: the young lions will not prowl against Seychelles.
The call is deafening, rising from the terraces like a hymn, echoing across social media like an unrelenting chorus: “Let the CHAN boys play!”
To the faithful, those players are no longer rookies. They are the sons of Kasarani, the darlings of the nation, the warriors who carried Kenya’s name through CHAN 2024 with blood, sweat, and unshakable hunger.
To them, these young lions embody Kenya’s rebirth. They want to see them unleashed, even in a dead rubber against Seychelles.
Yet McCarthy, seasoned by battles across continents, stood before the press and extinguished the dream with brutal honesty. “If I had fielded the CHAN squad, we could have probably been beaten 10-0,” he quipped, his candour drawing both laughter and sighs.
Friday’s 3-1 loss to Gambia was more than a defeat; it was a sobering reminder that the World Cup dream is already dust. Kenya’s campaign lies buried, as does Seychelles’. On paper, Tuesday’s fixture is a dead rubber. In his eyes, dignity is not a luxury—it is the last possession of a beaten side. And in that, he will not compromise.
There is no denying the magic of CHAN. For weeks, the country danced to its rhythm, draped in its hope. Ryan Ogam slicing through defenders, Alpha Onyango dictating play, Boniface Muchiri finishing with lethal precision—these were the images that lit up Kenyan nights. They were not just footballers; they were folk heroes. Symbols that local football could still stand tall against Africa’s giants. And there lies the tension—the fire of today versus the promise of tomorrow.
On Tuesday, the world will dismiss Kenya versus Seychelles as a footnote, a game stripped of consequence. But at Kasarani, where the red, green, and black flags will flutter against Nairobi’s September skies, the match will beat with its own stubborn heart. For many, Tuesday’s fixture is meaningless. For McCarthy, it is anything but.
“Yeah, of course, our chances of qualifying were slim,” he said. “But you don’t want to go out in the fashion that we did. The second half against Gambia showed what fight we can bring, and that’s how I want us to sign off.” He is chasing pride, not experiments. Respect, not nostalgia.
“This is about how we end, how we walk off the pitch with our heads high,” McCarthy insisted. “Seychelles is not about the result—it’s about character.”
For him, every tackle, every sprint, every bead of sweat spilt on that turf will be a declaration: Kenya may be out, but Kenya is not broken.
Still, the people argue. From boda boda riders to office corridors, the debate rages. “Why not give the CHAN boys their chance? What do we lose?” one fan shouted outside the gates of Kasarani after the Gambia game. It is a cry of longing—for fresh faces, for courage, for a glimpse of the future. But McCarthy, shaped by the brutal school of international football, knows the danger. He has seen young talent crushed by expectation, potential drowned in the unforgiving tide of top-level football.
For now, he chooses patience. To him, the CHAN stars are a harvest still ripening under the sun, not yet ready for the storm. Kenya’s World Cup bid may be over, but the journey of Harambee Stars stretches beyond a single campaign. The cracks exposed against Gambia—sloppy defending, wasteful finishing—cannot be hidden. But in the fightback of the second half, in the fire of substitutes drawn from CHAN, there was also a whisper of tomorrow.
McCarthy’s project is still in its infancy. He dreams of weaving the veterans with the youngsters, of crafting a side where experience anchors talent, and raw hunger sharpens steel. For now, Tuesday’s game is a rehearsal of resilience. A lesson in how to lose with grace, and how to rise again with conviction.
When the whistle pierces the Nairobi night on Tuesday, there will be no qualification to chase, no miracles to script. But there will be a chance—a chance to prove that even when the mountain is unclimbed, the climber still carries dignity in his stride. Benni McCarthy may have denied the fans their dream of CHAN stars storming the World Cup stage, but in his vision lies another dream: a Kenya that does not crumble in defeat but learns, heals, and prepares for battles yet to come. And at Kasarani, under the floodlights, that lesson will be written—not in points, but in pride.
