The Death of the Traditional Number 10 in South African Football

Think of the great South African playmakers. Think of the number 10 as a concept — the creative engine, the man between midfield and attack who finds space where there is none, who dictates tempo with a first touch and a raised head. In the PSL of 2025/26, that player type is close to extinct. Not because the talent does not exist, but because the systems that allowed him to thrive have been replaced by something faster, more aggressive, and less forgiving of the luxury that a true number 10 requires.

How the Systems Changed

The dominant tactical structure in the modern PSL is some variation of 4-2-3-1 or 4-3-3, both of which demand that their attacking midfielders press actively, track runners, and cover defensive transitions. The physical demands of these roles have fundamentally altered the profile of player coaches want in the number 10 position. Technique remains important. But it is no longer sufficient. A classic number 10 who goes missing defensively — who drifts, who holds his position, who conserves energy for creative moments — is a liability in a league that increasingly defines itself by intensity and work rate.

What Replaced Him

The modern PSL attacking midfielder is a hybrid: technical enough to unlock defences, physical enough to press, disciplined enough to maintain shape. Themba Zwane at Sundowns is perhaps the most complete example — he covers 11km per game on average, contributes defensively, and still produces creative output. He is not a number 10 in the traditional sense. He is a box-to-box attacker with playmaking instincts. They are related but fundamentally different animals.

The Players Who Still Try

A handful of PSL clubs still deploy something close to a traditional 10. Kaizer Chiefs' Lehlogonolo Mazuka sometimes operates in that fashion, finding pockets of space and holding the ball. But even he is asked to press more than his predecessors. The system demands it. Coaches who try to protect a creative player from defensive work quickly find their teams exposed — and those coaches rarely keep their jobs long enough to persist with the experiment.

Is Anything Lost?

The honest answer is yes. The most beautiful moments in South African football's recent history involved a player with time, a view of the pitch, and the intelligence to see a pass that nobody else could see. That specific kind of artistry — unhurried, architectural, built on trust between a coach and a creative player — is rarer than it has ever been. Whether what replaced it is better football is a philosophical question. It is certainly faster football. Whether fast is the same as beautiful is something supporters are still deciding.