The Confederation of African Football -CAF- decided two days ago to strip Senegal of the Africa Cup of Nations title and award the final to Morocco by a 3-0 scoreline, even though the match played on 18 January in Rabat had ended 1-0 for the Senegalese after extra time. The ruling stems from the walk-off by several Senegal players for around 14 or 15 minutes in protest at a penalty awarded to Morocco in stoppage time, an incident that defined the night and has now ended up rewriting the result months later.

What makes this decision especially difficult to defend is that CAF itself had initially taken a different path. At the first disciplinary hearing, it left the result on the field untouched, although it imposed fines and suspensions on players and officials from both teams, and only later, on appeal, changed the outcome and handed the title to Morocco. In Senegal, that reversal has been seen as an opaque and deeply difficult decision to understand, especially because the match resumed, was completed and had a winner on the pitch. That is why the Senegalese federation has described it as “illegal” and “deeply unfair”, has announced an appeal to the Court of Arbitration for Sport -CAS-, and the country’s government has called for an independent international investigation into suspected corruption within CAF.

An appeal that collides with the match itself

The refereeing in that final was not of the standard expected for a match of that magnitude, and that is where part of the problem begins. Senegal had a legitimate goal ruled out for a non-existent foul, and later the referee awarded a penalty to Morocco. Senegal reacted badly to that decision and chose to leave the field. The referee could have declared the match forfeited by Senegal when its players walked off in protest at the penalty given to Morocco. But that is precisely why the case becomes even more tangled: once the referee allowed play to resume, Brahim Díaz’s penalty was saved, the match carried on and Pape Gueye scored the goal that decided the final in extra time. The feeling in Senegal and in a significant part of African football is very clear: the refereeing was a mess, yes, but once the match continued, the result could only be settled on the field and not rebuilt afterwards at a legal desk.

That is also the root of the anger within the confederation itself. Article 5.2 of the Laws of the Game states that the referee’s decisions on facts connected with play, including the result of the match, are final, and several CAF officials believe the appeal committee has placed itself above that basic logic. Samir Sobha, a member of the executive committee, summed it up harshly: “It’s a big joke.” He added something that captures the heart of the issue: “We cannot correct a mistake by making another mistake … correcting one injustice with another cannot be considered an acceptable response, either from a sporting or an ethical standpoint.” When a confederation suggests that not even the end of a continental final is truly closed when the last whistle blows, what is weakened is not just one ruling, but the authority of the game itself.

Even if CAS changes the champion, African football is already losing

This is where the case stops being only a dispute between Senegal and Morocco. Whatever the definitive champion turns out to be once CAS rules, African football is already the main loser. It loses institutional credibility, it loses confidence in its refereeing system, and it once again projects, both internally and externally, the idea that its biggest competitions can become trapped in decisions that are hard to explain and even harder to defend. CAF president Patrice Motsepe himself acknowledged this week that African football still carries a problem of “suspicion and mistrust”, while the Senegalese government said the ruling undermines the credibility and reliability of the confederation. Perhaps that is the most serious part of all: in a crisis like this, the criticism no longer comes only from the losing side, but from the heart of the system itself.

It does not help Morocco either, even if its federation insists that it has only asked for the tournament rules to be applied and for the competitive framework to gain clarity and stability. The country had managed to stage a broadly solid Africa Cup of Nations, at a moment when its image as an organiser mattered greatly with the 2030 World Cup in view. But a final rewritten in offices two months later, amid accusations of favouritism, leaves a stain that goes beyond the trophy itself. Senegal speaks of an “unprecedented” and “unacceptable” decision; Morocco insists that its position does not question the sporting merit of its opponent. Between one version and the other, what is left damaged is the tournament itself, not only the distribution of its honours.

A tournament also marked by other episodes that did little to help its image

The final did not happen in a vacuum either. During the competition, there had already been signs that are unusual for a major continental tournament when compared with a European Championship or a World Cup. There were officially sold-out matches that still showed large numbers of empty seats, black-market resale with ticket prices multiplied several times over, and access problems that left supporters outside despite the announced sell-outs. Before the final, the federation of Senegal complained about a lack of security when the team arrived in Rabat, problems with accommodation, training facilities and ticket allocation for its supporters, while CAF responded that all teams had been treated under the same conditions. There were also violent scenes in the quarter-finals, including referee chases, clashes between players, crowd incidents and even assaults in the mixed zone involving journalists. None of those episodes alone explains the current crisis, but together they do create a context.

That is why this case inevitably points back to another precedent that African football has never fully left behind. In 2019, in the second leg of the CAF Champions League final between Espérance and Wydad Casablanca, the confederation had already tried to correct from the boardroom a situation the referee had settled on the field, even ordering a replay after Wydad refused to continue. CAS had to intervene to force CAF to respect the referee’s decision and confirm Espérance as champions. Six years later, the scene looks far too similar again: a final wrapped in chaos, a confederation walking into a maze of its own making, and a new crisis that, beyond whoever ends up as the final winner, once again works against the image of African football.