Lack of suitable home venue points to deepening crisis for Lesotho football

The relocation of Lioli’s “home” fixture against Orlando Pirates from Lesotho to the Free State Stadium in Bloemfontein underscores the deepening crisis of football infrastructure in the mountain kingdom. While football remains a unifying and popular sport in Lesotho, the absence of an internationally compliant stadium has turned home advantage into a paradox—forcing clubs and national teams alike to host matches on foreign soil. At the heart of this problem is the Setsoto Stadium in Maseru, the only facility previously recognized for international use. Since its suspension in 2021 by FIFA and CAF, due to its failure to meet international standards, Lesotho has been stripped of the ability to host matches at home. This not only damages the country’s sporting reputation but also undermines the growth of local football. For Lioli and other clubs, being forced to host continental matches outside the country strips them of the psychological and logistical benefits that come with playing in front of their own supporters. A Bloemfontein fixture against Pirates, although closer than many alternatives, still robs Lioli of the unique atmosphere their fans could have created in Teyateyaneng or Maseru. The symbolism of a national stadium lying dormant for years is damning. Stadium maintenance and renovation are not merely technical matters; they reflect governance, planning, and prioritization of resources. The fact that FIFA’s regional delegation only visited Setsoto last month to assess progress suggests that little has been done since the suspension. This delay reflects a lack of urgency from the Lesotho government, which should treat stadium compliance as a national priority. For a country whose national teams must play “home” games abroad, the damage extends beyond football—it dents national pride and imposes unnecessary costs. Financially, the consequences are severe. Clubs like Lioli must now shoulder additional travel and accommodation expenses when hosting fixtures in South Africa. Supporters face the same burden, with many unable to afford the journey across the border, leading to reduced crowd support. For the national team, this situation diminishes the potential for revenue generation through gate takings, merchandising, and hospitality. At a time when African football needs to be strengthened at grassroots and national levels, such infrastructural shortcomings widen the gap between countries with strong sporting institutions and those without. Politically, the Setsoto crisis points to a failure in public policy. Governments across Africa frequently make grand promises about sports development but often neglect the unglamorous task of infrastructure maintenance. While Lesotho is not alone in this regard, the prolonged suspension of its only national stadium is exceptional and reflects a broader governance deficit. International football bodies like FIFA can push for compliance, but ultimately, the political will to prioritize sports infrastructure must come from within Lesotho itself. There are also continental implications. CAF’s insistence on international standards is correct—it ensures player safety, television broadcast quality, and a professional environment. Yet the harsh reality is that several African nations face similar struggles. Lesotho’s plight raises a broader debate: should CAF and FIFA do more to provide technical and financial assistance to struggling associations, or is it solely the responsibility of national governments? In conclusion, the Lioli–Pirates fixture in Bloemfontein is more than a logistical inconvenience; it is a stark reminder of the consequences of neglecting sports infrastructure. For Lesotho, the inability to host matches at home has diminished football’s power to inspire and unite. Unless the Setsoto Stadium is urgently renovated and maintained, the country risks permanent exile from the global football family, with dire consequences for the development of its players, clubs, and national pride.