Two months since the AFCON Final, CAF are at it again with a messy decision to hand Morocco the trophy, stirring a fresh bout of controversy.
African football has never been short of drama, but what happened at the end of the 2025 Africa Cup of Nations final has been something else entirely. Morocco and Senegal, two of the continent’s biggest footballing powers, met in what should have been a celebration of African football at its finest. Instead, the AFCON final dissolved into chaos in its closing moments, and the fallout from it is still very much alive.
A penalty awarded to Morocco in the dying stages sent Senegal’s players over the edge. Several of them, including their most iconic figure Sadio Mane, abandoned the pitch in protest. What followed was a surreal sequence of events — some players stayed, some left, and the game somehow stumbled to a conclusion. Morocco scored.
The Confederation of African Football (CAF) did nothing in the moment, and the final whistle blew. Senegal celebrated. Morocco celebrated. Two nations, one trophy, and no one in charge of the sport in Africa seemingly had any idea what to actually do about it.
Then, two months later, CAF made it official. Morocco are the winners. Just like that. Except it was not just like that, because nothing about this has been simple.
Two months is too long
Let’s be blunt about this: football governing bodies are not known for their speed, but a two-month delay to announce the winner of your flagship tournament is genuinely hard to justify. CAF’s decision to finally hand the title to Morocco arrived long after the final whistle, long after the celebrations, and long after both nations had moved on — or at least tried to.
For context, most disciplinary or appeals processes in football at the top level are resolved within days or, at most, weeks. FIFA’s disciplinary committees have turned around decisions on red card appeals, match-fixing hearings, and eligibility disputes in far shorter windows. UEFA’s Court of Arbitration for Sport processes, for all their imperfections, operate on timelines that at least keep the sport moving.
CAF took two months. Two months during which neither Morocco nor Senegal had any official clarity on who was actually the champion of Africa. Two months during which the story refused to go away, not because the media kept it alive artificially, but because no one in authority had the courage to resolve it quickly and cleanly. The delay itself is a statement — and not a flattering one.
Why was nothing done on the night of the AFCON final?
This might be the most important question in this entire saga, and it is the one CAF has been least forthcoming about. When Senegal’s players walked off the pitch — and let’s be clear, several of them did exactly that — the referee and match officials had a decision to make right there and then.
Under the laws of the game, a team that refuses to continue, or that reduces itself below the minimum number of players required on the field, can be deemed to have forfeited the match. That is not a grey area. It is written clearly in the rulebook. So why, at the moment several Senegalese players left the field in protest over the penalty call, did nobody at CAF or among the officiating team step in and apply that rule?
Instead, what the world watched was an extraordinary muddle. Some Senegal players stayed. Some left. Mane, whose presence or absence in those moments became a talking point in itself, was among those who initially walked. The game continued in a fractured, chaotic state — and Morocco got their penalty. By the time the dust settled, you had a result, but nobody could say with any confidence that the result was achieved under normal conditions.
CAF’s inaction in those moments created the very crisis they then spent two months trying to resolve. If the referee had stopped the game and invoked the forfeit rule — or alternatively, if play had been suspended and both teams recalled to the pitch formally — there would have been a cleaner path forward. By letting the game stumble on in that state, the officials kicked the problem upstairs. And upstairs, predictably, took forever to deal with it.
Another blow to CAF’s credibility
It would be unfair to say that African football is uniquely prone to governance failures — FIFA itself has hardly been a model of clean administration over the decades. But it would also be dishonest to pretend that incidents like this one do not reinforce an existing narrative that CAF struggles to manage its showpiece events with the authority they deserve.
The history here matters. CAF has faced criticism over delayed kick-off times, poor stadium conditions, officiating controversies, and a general sense that the organisation sometimes treats its own competitions as an afterthought.
The 2021 AFCON, held in Cameroon, was a logistical challenge that drew widespread criticism. Before that, hosting decisions and scheduling conflicts have repeatedly embarrassed the body. This latest episode — where the winner of the final had to be decided not on the pitch but in a committee room, two months later — lands in a long and uncomfortable list.
The concern is not just about this specific decision. It is about what it signals to the rest of the football world. African players are among the most sought-after on the planet. African leagues are growing. The continent’s footballing talent is undeniable.
But every time CAF finds itself in a situation like this, it gives ammunition to those who argue that African football’s governing structures are not keeping pace with its on-field quality. That gap, if it persists, is damaging — not just for CAF’s reputation, but for the players and nations who deserve better.
Do Senegal have a point?
There is a real tension at the heart of Senegal’s protest, and it deserves to be taken seriously rather than dismissed as sour grapes. Yes, Morocco were awarded the penalty. Yes, some Senegal players walked off. Yes, CAF have now ruled in Morocco’s favour. On the surface, it might seem like Senegal should accept the decision and move on.
But consider what actually happened after the final whistle blew that night. Senegal’s players and staff did not skulk off the pitch in the knowledge that the matter was unresolved. They celebrated. Their fans celebrated with them. Mane and his teammates paraded the trophy in front of their supporters. Whether that was premature, naive, or simply the result of the confusion that CAF had allowed to develop, those images are real — and they cannot be erased by a press release two months later.
There is also a legitimate grievance about process. If CAF had communicated clearly in the immediate aftermath that the result was under review and that no celebrations should take place pending an investigation, Senegal might have had less ground to stand on.
Instead, the governing body appeared to let both teams believe the matter was settled, only to reopen it weeks later. Senegal’s players, their federation, and their fans were not wrong to feel blindsided by a ruling that came so far after the fact.
That does not necessarily mean Senegal are right on the sporting merits. But on the question of whether they are justified in protesting how this was handled? Absolutely. They are.
Conclusion: What next after the AFCON 2025 mess?
Strip away the noise, and the AFCON 2025 final saga tells a familiar story about a governing body that was not prepared for the moment it found itself in. CAF had a chaotic final on their hands, with players abandoning the pitch, officials unsure how to act, and two nations claiming the same prize. What the situation demanded was swift, clear, authoritative action. What it got was two months of silence followed by a decision that has satisfied almost no one.
Morocco may now officially be the champions of Africa, and perhaps on the balance of events that night, the ruling is defensible. But the manner in which it was reached has done real damage. Senegal’s sense of grievance is understandable, even if the final verdict does not go their way. Their players celebrated in good faith, with their people, holding a trophy they believed was theirs. That moment cannot be undone by an administrative ruling, no matter how official it is.
For CAF, the lesson should be uncomfortable. The credibility of a competition is not just built by the quality of football played — it is built by how the game is governed when things go wrong. In that regard, this final has been a failure of administration as much as it has been a controversy on the pitch. African football’s talent has long outgrown these kinds of governance lapses. The players deserve better, the fans deserve better, and frankly, the continent deserves better. Until CAF confronts that honestly, these crises will keep coming.
