Norway’s GDP is around $500 billion, while Cape Verde’s is roughly $2 billion, resulting in a 250-to-1 ratio. This disparity often affects influence and decision-making power, determining who has a voice and who just serves coffee. Italy, with a GDP of two trillion dollars, was excluded, and Germany, with four trillion, was knocked out early.
Interestingly, the United States, the world’s largest economy, has never won a men’s World Cup, and China, the second largest, failed to qualify at all.
The game itself does not mind.Â
The pitch isn’t about how big your economy is; it simply asks one honest question: can you play? And can you play well? That is why football captures the world’s heart. It’s one of the rare global institutions where everyone plays by the same rules, whether you’reÂ
mighty or modest.
Norway: Twenty-eight winters, then the drumbeatÂ
Twenty-eight winters had gone by since Norway last appeared on football’s biggest stage. When they returned, they weren’t just visitors — they were a real threat. In the Round of 16, they faced five-time champions Brazil and won 2–1, with Erling Haaland scoring both goals. A nation of only about five and a half million people managed to topple football’s most decorated power.
Then came the drum. The Viking Row started in the stands, with thousands of supporters moving together as if rowing an invisible longboat, each synchronised motion fueled by a thunderous shout of “Ro!” This was more than a celebration; it was a nation finding a rhythm strong enough to hold its joy. After the match, Martin Ødegaard handed the drumsticks to Haaland, the scorer who had just taken out Brazil, as he beat time for his people while thousands rowed in unison behind him.
Norway ultimately lost to England in the quarter-finals, but they didn’t emerge weaker. They exited strong, having broken a barrier they had never surpassed before. What moved me most wasn’t the goals, but the evidence that Norway hadn’t squandered its silent years. It used that quiet time to ready itself for the noise. Twenty-eight winters later, the world heard the pounding of the drum.
Cape Verde: Ten islands, and the refusal to be smallÂ
Cape Verde arrived with just over half a million people, making it the smallest nation ever to reach a World Cup knockout stage. No one expected them to advance. They didn’t win any of their group matches, but they did something more unconventional: they refused to lose. Against Spain, Europe’s champions, they held their ground with Vozinha, a 40-year old goalkeeper who played the game of his life. Against Uruguay, twice world champions, they fell behind but fought back, then fell behind again and fought back once more. In three matches, they drew every time, no defeats, and somehow they advanced. Later, in Miami, facing Argentina, the reigning champions, Cape Verde challenged them fiercely. It was only a Messi corner, a defender leaping into the air, and a cruel deflection in the 111th minute that finally broke them. When the final whistle blew, their players collapsed on the grass, exhausted. Vozinha, the oldest player on the field, moved among them, helping a teammate up repeatedly. It was a pure display of leadership: when the dream ends, and the body is drained, someone must still remind the team to stand. Although Cape Verde left the World Cup without a win, the world learned their name. Ten islands entered the tournament, yet a nation larger than its geography did so.
But presence is not powerÂ
Under the previous format, Africa had only five qualification spots, so Cape Verde rarely qualified. This meant the Blue Sharks remained a rumour, and those 111 minutes never took place. The move to 48 teams increased Africa’s spots to ten, with nine reaching the knockout stage. Critics argued the expansion would weaken the tournament, but it proved the opposite, unveiling how much talent had been quietly suppressed by the old limits. Our true potential was never about capability; it was about the allocation of spots. I don’t know if this changes anything or if the world will learn from it, but I know that for 111 minutes, half a million people believed in their equality. Once that belief is felt, it is not easily forgotten.
Africa came to this World Cup in record numbers and turning up is not the same as being counted. Our continent supplies the talent, the crowds, the emotion, the raw human genius that makes this tournament worth watching, and then, when the broadcast revenue is counted, the governance decided, and the calendar drawn, we are largely absent from the room where it happens. We provide the substrate. Someone else does the orchestration.
The aim is to better oversee the game by increasing African representation in decision making, keeping more of football’s revenue on the continent, and strengthening African academies to nurture talent locally until players decide to leave voluntarily. This is a call for a structural stake that ensures Africa has a real role in ownership, governance, funding, and in shaping the future of the global game.
The worthy goalÂ
The events on the football field reflect more than just the game; they reveal a sense of fairness, showing that for a few weeks, Norway and Cape Verde competed on equal terms with much larger countries. Everyone played by the same rules, had the same chances, and measured success by excellence. Africa needs more opportunities like this across all fields where established rules are in place before we arrive. With the youngest population on Earth, a demographic advantage, our continent should be envied by aging societies. Our creative economy is flourishing with Afrobeats, Nollywood, and acclaimed writers shaping global culture independently. We have ample sun, wind, and minerals to build a green economy, owning the entire supply chain rather than just exporting resources.
Innovation thrives here; engineers in Lagos, Nairobi, and Kigali develop AI models based on African languages and local challenges, addressing issues uncharted by Silicon Valley companies. The mobile money revolution, born in Kenya, now influences global finance, showcasing African ingenuity that’s rewriting the rules worldwide. We are already competing and winning. The real question is whether the world will let us set the rules. Norway took 28 years to teach the world a Viking chant. A 40-year-old goalkeeper from a small island fought Lionel Messi for 111 minutes and then helped his teammates up. The scoreboard doesn’t care where you’re from, and neither should the world. That’s a goal worth pursuing. Let’s go and achieve it.
- business a.m. commits to publishing a diversity of views, opinions and comments. It, therefore, welcomes your reaction to this and any of our articles via email: comment@businessamlive.comÂ
