Shabana, Kenya Police, and the Art of Pretending We’re Calm

Jambo.

As I am not completely emotionally reckless, I did not spend the night rewatching highlights or overanalyzing clips frame by frame like a man trying to solve a crime scene. I have, however, seen enough to know what’s coming next.

Tomorrow, Shabana FC play Kenya Police FC. Which is one of those fixtures that looks normal on paper, but carries just enough tension to ruin your weekend if it goes wrong.

They’re third. We’re fifth. One point between us. The kind of gap that makes you feel hopeful and nervous at the same time.

Form says we should feel confident. Four wins in five. Clean sheets. A team that, at least recently, looks like it remembers what defending actually is. But form is one of those things that behaves nicely until it doesn’t, and Kenya Police are not exactly the type to roll over and admire your passing triangles.

Let’s be honest about them. They don’t concede. Seventeen goals all season. That’s not an accident. That’s a team that wakes up every morning and chooses discipline. You don’t break them by rushing. You don’t beat them by vibes. You need patience, structure, and the ability to resist the very Shabana instinct to go long after three passes and hope for the best.

Which brings us to the uncomfortable part.

For a while now, we’ve been playing football that can best be described as urgent without purpose. Mpira ya kupura, as the people politely call it. Run, chase, cross, repeat. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it looks like we’re trying to win a game in five seconds instead of ninety.

Now, with Ongwae holding things together and Osborne Monday back in the technical setup, there’s this quiet suggestion that maybe, just maybe, we’re trying to evolve. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… less chaotic.

You can see it in moments. Slower build-up. Slightly more composure. Fewer blind clearances into the Kisii sky. It’s not perfect, but it’s there.

And this game will tell us if that shift is real or just a phase.

Because Kenya Police will not help you play nicely. They will sit, organize, frustrate, and wait for you to make a mistake. If we lose our heads, start forcing passes, or revert to old habits, they will happily take that and walk away with the points while we argue about referees and missed chances.

If we stay calm, though… that’s where it gets interesting.

There’s also the small matter of the table. Win this, and suddenly that gap flips. Lose, and we’re back to chasing, recalculating, and explaining things we don’t fully understand.

No pressure.

Somewhere in all this, there’s also the bigger picture. A club in transition. A technical bench being reshaped. Names being discussed, futures being quietly decided. You don’t need to be inside the boardroom to know something is shifting.

The question is whether the football on the pitch catches up.

Because at some point, intention has to become identity.

Until then, we do what we always do. Show up. Watch. Complain. Hope.

And pretend, just for a moment, that we are completely calm about all of this.