Immanuel Ben Misagga
For years, domestic football was not just a pastime in Uganda; it was a national pride. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of today’s personalized sport. The domestic league badly lacks ambition, and the stands are filled with the ghosts of loyal supporters who have been systematically betrayed.
Personally, I blame this on the shifting fortunes of four clubs: the nostalgic slumber of SC Villa, the soulless bureaucracy of KCCA FC, the dynastic decay of Express FC, and the lonely excellence of Vipers SC.
Let us begin with the once-mighty SC Villa, a club now living in a museum of its own making. It is almost inconceivable that this very club clinched the league title just two years ago, a triumph that now seems like a flash in the pan.
The current administration has surgically severed the club from its lifeblood: the fans. Where over 107 fan branches once thrived across the nation less than a decade ago, there is now a deafening silence. The club now roams like a headless chicken, homeless and directionless.
Their nomadic existence—from Nakivubo to Wankulukuku, and now to the Fufa-controlled Kadiba—is a damning indictment. They are now tenants at the mercy of Fufa President Moses Magogo, a man who needs no invitation to consolidate power. The most galling act of this betrayal? The receipt of over Shs 4 billion in compensation from UNRA, which is spoken about in hushed tones. The fans have been left in the dark.
Then there is KCCA FC, whose administration has traded its soul for a seat at the bureaucrat’s table.
There was a time when a position on the KCCA executive was a privilege earned through passion and acumen. Today, it seems any Tom, Dick, and Harry can walk in and call the shots. The club has been neutered. Once a formidable powerbroker that could shape the destiny of Ugandan football, it has been reduced to a meek follower, a lapdog of Fufa. Its silence during the imposition of the controversial new league format was a damning compliance.
Perhaps the most poignant fall from grace is that of Express FC. The Red Eagles were built on a legacy of passion, but that legacy has been perverted into a family dynasty. The decision to align the club’s fate to the Jolly Joe Kiwanuka family dynasty was a big error. While respect must be paid to the founder, no institution can thrive when it is treated as a private outfit. The warning was clear when his grandson, Kiryowa Kiwanuka, took the helm: it was a win-or-bust gamble. Tragically, it has bust. The club is now akin to a ship with no captain, whose meagre ambition is mere survival in the top flight. This is the new, devastatingly low bar for a once-giant club.
One might ask, why indict Vipers SC in this litany of failure? Are they not the shining exception, our flag-bearers on the continent? Precisely. Vipers is included not for their failures, but to highlight the gross negligence of the others.
Under the leadership of Dr. Lawrence Mulindwa, Vipers has executed a masterclass in modern football club management. He understood a fundamental truth that Villa, KCCA, and Express have forgotten: a club is nothing without its community.
By embedding the team in Kitende and tapping into the vibrant student base of St Mary’s SS, he is building a fortress, both on the pitch and in the stands. Match days are events, the team is a source of local pride, and the results—a squad that now forms the backbone of the national team—speak for themselves.
My friend, football pundit Aldrine Nsubuga, recently noted that a bench player at Vipers is an assured starter at any other clubs.
Vipers’ success is a reminder of what the others ought to be doing. They have provided a ready-made blueprint: build a stable home, engage the community, and invest with a long-term vision.
It is not Mulindwa’s job to wake his competition from their self-induced coma. The obligation to copy, to adapt, lies squarely with the so-called giants.
How do you explain that, for the first time in domestic football history, none of the Big-Three finished among the top four performers in the 2024–25 season?
So, in all this, the fall of Ugandan football is a meticulously managed decline. It is a story of administrations that view fans as inconveniences, of boards that value compliance over competition, and of dynasties that prize control over glory.
If these clubs do not awaken from their slumber and confront the hard truths, they will not just be writing their own obituaries; they will be presiding over the burial of Uganda’s domestic football soul.
The time for accountability, for radical change, and for a furious reclaiming of the game, is now.
The author is a football investor and SC Villa president Emeritus.
