Mkhize had always carried one dream in his heart to become a football scout.
Not just any scout, but the kind who could spot the boys with hunger in their eyes, the ones who would fight to make it no matter the obstacles.
But dreams are heavy when life keeps breaking you.
His girlfriend had left him for his rich brother. His parents were gone, taken from him in a car accident. And Mkhize? He was left with nothing but his classroom chalk and a notebook full of ideas.
How could a man chase greatness when the world had already taken so much from him?
How could he begin, when he didn't even have a UEFA license or a team to work for.
Still, his dream burned. And it burned for one club only: Kaizer Chiefs.
The pride of Gauteng. A team feared in the Gauteng Development League.
By day, Mkhize taught high school students. By night, he wrote in his small, battered notebook. Inside it were sketches, plans, and notes of how he would one day scout players not just the polished ones in academies, but the raw ones playing barefoot in the streets, the dusty fields, the backyards. He would find them. He would study them. And if they impressed him, he would never forget their names.
In his notebook, he wasn't just a teacher. He was already a scout.
That evening, Mkhize returned home, dropped his bag on the couch, and switched on the TV. Kaizer Chiefs were playing against a powerhouse club from the UK. He watched every second, eyes fixed on every run, every pass, every mistake.
The game carried him into sleep, and in his dreams he saw it himself in a Kaizer Chiefs tracksuit, standing at the touchline, notebook in hand, calling out names of future stars. He was more than a teacher. More than a man left behind. He was the one who would discover greatness.
And his name was Mkhize.