This is one of the hardest truths in Ghanaian football — and one of the most misunderstood. Let's say it plainly, without diminishing anyone. Mohammed Kudus is exceptional. But exceptional players do not win tournaments on their own. Systems do.
Europe Gives Players a System. Ghana Asks Them to Be the System.
In Europe, Kudus walks into a defined tactical identity with rehearsed patterns of play, teammates who know exactly where he will be, and a manager who designs the system around roles — not personalities. He is not asked to save the team. He is asked to execute his role ruthlessly well.
With Ghana, the logic is often inverted. The moment a player excels in Europe, the national team implicitly asks: can you do more for us?
More running. More improvisation.
More magic. More responsibility.
Create something from nothing.
Carry the ball longer. Drop deeper.
That's not empowerment. That's structural abdication — the system transferring its own failures downward onto individual talent.
Club Football Is Repetition. International Football Is Compression.
Club football rewards repetition, muscle memory, coordinated pressing, and automated movement. Players train together every day. Systems are refined over months and years. International football compresses everything — limited training sessions, rotating squads, tactical ambiguity, emotional pressure.
Elite national teams solve this by simplifying roles, not expanding them. Ghana often does the opposite. The result: individual players are stretched across functions they should never have to cover, and the team is slower, more exposed, and less coherent than the sum of its talent.
The "Give It to Kudus" Game Plan Is Not Strategy. It's Desperation.
When Ghana struggles, the game plan quietly shifts toward the familiar: give it to Kudus. This is not strategy. It is desperation masquerading as belief. And it makes him look worse — not better.
- Teammates who occupy defenders
- Midfielders who time their runs
- Fullbacks who create width
- Goalkeeper who distributes cleanly
- Space and transition lanes open
- Spacing collapses around him
- Defenders load up and crowd him
- Transition lanes disappear
- Forced into low-percentage actions
- The player looks worse. The system is the problem.
African Players Don't Succeed in Europe Because They're "Free." They Succeed Because Their Role Is Clear.
There is a persistent myth that African players succeed in Europe because they are finally "allowed to express themselves." The opposite is closer to the truth. They succeed because their decision space is narrowed, their responsibilities are clear, their risks are managed, and their strengths are protected.
European systems reduce chaos so talent can surface. Ghana often amplifies chaos and hopes talent will survive it. That's backwards.
What Kudus Cannot Fix — and Shouldn't Have to
Kudus cannot fix midfield spacing. He cannot control game tempo from the wing. He cannot compensate for poor transition structure or rescue defensive shape from the final third. And he shouldn't have to.
When Ghana plays well — genuinely well, not just occasionally threatening — it is never because one player dominates. It is because the goalkeeper releases cleanly, the midfield delays intelligently, transitions are timed, and roles are respected. That is when talent compounds instead of compensating.
Governance, Not Ability, Is the Difference
Ghanaian players succeed in Europe because governance exists, systems are stable, roles are protected, and individuals are not asked to carry institutional failure on their backs. They struggle with Ghana because the national team too often lacks a fixed identity, improvises under pressure, and transfers responsibility downward to players when structure breaks down.
Talent cannot fix that. No amount of individual brilliance compensates for the absence of a system that knows what it is trying to do — and prepares accordingly.
Mohammed Kudus is not the problem. He is the proof.
Proof that Ghana produces elite footballers. Proof that talent is not the bottleneck.
Until Ghana stops asking individuals to compensate for systemic gaps — until it designs football the way elite teams do — its best players will continue to look better in Europe than at home.
Not because they are different players.
But because they are placed inside different systems.
And football, at this level, always tells you the same thing: talent expresses itself where structure allows it to breathe.
Walter Kwami writes from a practitioner's perspective on systems, governance, and the structures that determine outcomes — in technology and in football alike.