B.4 Análisis financiero

So why does the club president of Racing de Bafoussam not decide to finish the stadium? The answer is that he is not allowed to do so because the stadiums are owned by the government. First, the stadiums are under the control of the local urban council which, in turn, is led by a government delegate. Second, the

government appoints so-called stadium directors from Yaoundé to manage the revenues of the larger stadiums.

A day before a match, the Ministry sends out representatives to all parts of the country with the tickets. Supporters pay the fixed prices of FCFA 500 (€ 0.7) for a standing spot in the sun and FCFA 1,000 (€ 1.5) for a place in the stand. In most stadiums there are also tickets for FCFA 2,000 (€ 3), which are usually purchased by prominent people who want a more ‘luxurious seat’ in the stand. (These are usually plastic garden chairs.)

As average first-division matches are watched by 2,000 to 5,000 spectators, revenues can easily turn out to be between FCFA 1 million to 2.5 million (even if one only charges FCFA 500 for all the tickets). This is between € 1,520 and € 3,800. A former stadium director in Limbe gave me calculations for the big match between Victoria United and PWD Bamenda. Taking the crowded stadium into consideration, revenues should have been around FCFA six million (€ 9,145), ‘maybe even seven or ten million francs’ (€ 10,600 to € 15,244). This particular match, however, turned out to generate only FCFA 3.2 million (€ 4,878).

Apparently, a huge problem arises when one considers the role of tribalism and corruption in football. First, some people told me that corruption among government representatives, such as the stadium directors, is very common. ‘Maybe a stadium director is poor at the time they appoint him,’ Zé says, before continuing in a cynical way: ‘But when he has been the director for at least two or three months, you will see him riding round in a car. You have to call him and ask: “How come you have a car when you have not taken out a car loan? Are you a magician or something?”’

Second, I know from my own experience that many people go into the stadium without paying for a ticket. I have even done it myself a number of times. People either jump over the wall or they know the people who guard the entrance to the field. In an article on the BBC website I read that such cases of corruption and tribalism also occur in other African countries. In Congo, for example, the foot- ball authorities started hiring deaf and dumb ticket sellers at the gate. ‘The direc- tors of the league say the deaf and dumb officials will prove incorruptible and that ticket receipts have already gone up.’

A first-division referee offered another reason for lower ticket revenues, say- ing that ‘somebody will build his house on a hill across the stadium and you will see about 20 people watching the match from up there for free’. This is not possi- ble in Buea but the hills around the stadium in Limbe are a perfect excuse for not buying a ticket.

The money from ticket sales has to be divided between several parties. First, the officials are paid on the spot out of any available revenue. Some say that the

referee, the two linesmen and the match delegate always receive a fixed amount of money; others claim that it depends on the officials’ travel and accommo- dation expenses. In principle, however, the officials receive more money when there are a lot of spectators at the ground and less if nobody shows up. If there is no money, the officials will receive an IOY (I Owe You) with the promise that money will be paid out as soon as possible. It would therefore be logical to assume that referees are keen to handle big matches because then they are more likely to be well paid for their duties. Second, security personnel also have to be paid out of ticket revenues. The former stadium director said that matches in Limbe are being protected by about twenty policemen and ten soldiers. Really important matches usually demand a truckload of soldiers who spread out along the side of the field.

When the referees and the security staff have been paid out of the ticket revenues, 40 per cent of the remaining revenue goes to the two competing teams, 40 per cent goes to FECAFOOT, 19 per cent to (what I heard to be) the National Football Commission and 1 per cent to the local council. In the case of the big match between Victoria United and PWD Bamenda, the former stadium director told me that each of the two clubs took away about FCFA 600,000 (€ 914) from this particular match. The local urban council received 30,000 francs (€ 45).

The two competing teams therefore do not really get much money from ticket sales. They also do not receive much money from advertisements in the stadiums or from shirt sponsorship. There are a few companies actively involved in foot- ball sponsorship in Cameroon, of which the beer breweries and soda companies are the best-known examples. As Armstrong & Giulianotti (2004: 12) observe, ‘… the most prominent sponsors of African football clubs are often beer and cigarette corporations’. In Cameroon, these companies are sponsoring football tournaments such as the Top Cup and have set up football schools (‘Brasseries’) throughout the country but they do not sponsor specific football clubs.

There is hardly any sponsorship in Cameroonian football at all. ‘People here don’t believe in advertisements,’ Zé told me. ‘An exception is Fovu de Baham. The players are advertising milk through the logo on their jerseys. The club president owns a dairy company called B&B and he uses his team to advertise his products. Somebody asked me: “What is B&B?” He had never heard of it. I told him it was milk. I said: “You will test it!” You see, they already have one customer. If they don’t do that, how will the club grow?’

Fovu de Baham notwithstanding, the lack of team sponsorship and advertising in the stadiums is, some say, the cause of the semi-professionalism in Came- roonian football. ‘If there’s no sponsorship,’ Zé says, ‘they should rent out the stadium to the club. Then the club will have to advertise to mobilize the people to come and watch their matches. They have to arrange publicity to get money and

make a profit. This is not the law, it’s only my suggestion. If they run it well, everybody will be interested in putting money into the club. In this way, the club can afford good players. And then the supporters will give more money to watch them play football.’

There are others reasons for the D1 competition being only a semi-profes- sional league. First, clubs do not sell food and drink during matches. Groundnuts, soya, chewing gum, fruit, cans of soda and bottles of water, among other things, are sold by children who do not seem to have any relationship with the clubs. Second, clubs in Cameroon do not sell football jerseys of specific players or any other items related to the club. In short, there is a lack of club marketing and merchandizing. ‘Take a look at Real Madrid,’ Zé told me. ‘They bought Ronal- do. Ronaldo’s shirt alone is equal to the money they used to buy him. That’s what we call business. So when this is done, the club will grow.’

In addition, since there are no cameras present at most matches, including the match here in Mbouda, clubs do not receive money from television deals. Indeed Giulianotti (1999) argues that most money in European football comes straight from such TV deals. Since the money generated by ticket sales is not enough to cover all their expenditures, it is difficult for most Cameroonian clubs to earn money from football and re-invest it in the club.