A little more than a week on and Francis Koné can recall the incident vividly. It is the type of thing that is hard to forget. His Slovacko side were holding their hosts, Bohemians 1905, at the Dolicek stadium in Prague, the Czech top-flight game goalless as it edged beyond the half-hour, when the striker chased a pass down the channel. His pursuit was hopeless given the home side’s captain, Daniel Krch, was tearing back and the goalkeeper, Martin Berkovec, was sprinting out to intercept. All had eyes only on the bouncing ball. Koné, 26, had actually been checking his own run when he heard the sickening thwack of heads.
The dreadful impact, “un choc violent”, rang out over the drums and hubbub of the crowd. The two home players fell limply to the turf, Krch landing a few yards away just inside the penalty area, while Berkovec’s momentum carried him clattering into the striker. Koné, knocked to the ground, was on his knees when instinct took over. “I saw the defender was moving, so I was not worried about him,” he said. “But the goalkeeper was still, lying on his back, and I could see the whites of his eyes. They were rolling in his head. He was either unconscious or worse. So I planted one foot across his chest to keep his left arm tightly in – sometimes the body can convulse, becomes really strong, and you can’t always control it – and tried to force my fingers into his mouth.
“The jaw was locked tight, but I had to make sure he had not swallowed his tongue. The clock was ticking. A couple of his team-mates came in and helped, moving him over on to his side, which you have to do to make sure the airways are clear, and I eventually prised his teeth apart and pulled the tongue back. It was slippery with the saliva and at some point he actually bit me, the jaws clamping back down, but it doesn’t matter. It was all over in a few seconds, and when the goalkeeper actually tried to say something I knew he was going to be fine. That’s when I got up and walked away.”
Some among the home crowd have since admitted to having spent the first 31 minutes poisonously marking Koné’s every touch with cries of “monkey”. All had applauded when Berkovec, after around 20 seconds, rolled himself on to his back. Moving a player who has suffered serious head trauma can be unwise, even dangerous, not least given the possibility a neck injury has been sustained. The issue came up last week when Fernando Torres was knocked unconscious after falling heavily in Atlético Madrid’s draw at Deportivo La Coruña.
Yet the Bohemians medic, Martin Vavra, praised Koné’s swift intervention as critical given the support staff had to be waved on to the pitch by the referee and then sprint – “and I am no Usain Bolt”, said Vavra – to the far side to reach the stricken player. Martin Dostal, one of the home defenders, slapped the Togo international on the back in appreciative thanks of his quick thinking. “Without God, something bad could have happened that day,” the forward said. “Something terrible. He could have died, but I knew what to do. I’d seen it before.”
Koné boasts no formal medical training but he does have experience. Aside from his remarkable transformation from a target of racist abuse to potential lifesaver, it is just as staggering to acknowledge that the incident two Saturdays ago was the fourth occasion over an eight-year professional career, spent at clubs in six countries, when he has prevented a team-mate or opponent swallowing their tongue. Not all have been on the pitch. In Thailand, where he had arrived as an 18-year-old seeking opportunities with PTT Rayong and Muangthong United, a team-mate collapsed after suffering a head injury in the gym. “I had to pull his tongue from his throat that day, and was bitten too,” he said. “The second time was back in Africa, where I’d played for Togo and had been asked by a friend to turn out in an exhibition game before going back to my club, Al-Mussanah, in Oman.
“A player clashed heads with the goalkeeper, and then fell on the back of his neck when he hit the ground. That time I really struggled to get the tongue out because his body had tensed up – he was completely unconscious – and people came to help me, including medics, holding him while I pushed two fingers into his mouth to try and grab his tongue to slide it out. The third time [again in Africa] was only two years ago.
“It’s strange. When it happened the first time, I didn’t tell my mother because I didn’t want to scare her. The second time I told her and she warned me it would keep happening, and I should be careful. Always be wary. Never run away if something bad happens out on the pitch. ‘You can’t just wait for someone else to step up,’ she said, so when it happened the third time it was: ‘I told you so’.” Akoudji Yawavi Victorine and Koné’s father, Mahaman, saw coverage of their son assisting Berkovec on the internet at their home in Ivory Coast. Koné Sr apparently “can’t go out of his house now for people hassling him, talking about what happened. They’re both very proud.”
Koné, who qualifies for Togo through his mother but was born in Bondoukou in the north of Ivory Coast and raised outside Abidjan, the economic capital of the country, has endured hardships aplenty in pursuing his football career. He spent his childhood fishing for crabs and washing cars to earn enough to buy boots, then excelled leading the line in a side who won the semi-professional third division. He has always been desperate to follow his idol Didier Drogba to England but his first venture abroad came with an agent arranging a move to Thailand. “I was young, and I had to be strong in a new country, a new culture. The racism there was actually much worse. I was virtually the only black footballer in the league, so I stood out even more.”
After Oman, spells followed in Portugal with Olhanense and Hungary at Budapest Honved before his arrival in Uherske Hradiste, where he and his young family have settled at Slovacko, but the same depressing problems have pursued him throughout. “When you’re an African, a black man, and you play in a country like this … well, it’s not like going to play in France or Belgium. Even if things are improving, they’re still not very open, and that’s why the racism happens. It’s still a bit behind. When I’m on the pitch I try not to pay attention to it. But it’s hard. Racism makes me sick. It hurts. It’s frustrating for us, as African players, to hear things like ‘monkey’ or ‘black’ being shouted at us. You have to be there, out on the pitch, and have it directed at you to really understand how it makes you feel.
“What can we do about it? I don’t know, but maybe what happened last weekend will help a bit. I’ve had messages from a few Bohemians fans. Two apologised to me on social media, saying they’d heard racist chants but then they saw an African saving one of their players and had thought about what they’d done. I don’t know whether that’s true or not, but I’ve seen their messages, and I hope it is.” Local media picked up on some of the testimonies, one from a supporter who claimed to have been surrounded by fans who had abused Koné throughout that opening half-hour, and ended up chanting his name. Another insisted the striker had “taught me something”, the implication being it was not just emergency medical practice.
The forward can cling to that. He retains his “dream” to move to England one day and, at 6ft 2in and powerfully built, he would appear to boast the physical attributes to thrive in this country. He departed the Dolicek a hero while Berkovec, who lost a tooth and his chewing gum, spent the night nursing a pounding headache in a local hospital. It could have been so much worse. His thanks were published the following day, and he has since invited the forward to dinner the next time he visits Prague. “It does make me proud,” Koné said. “But I just thank God I was there to help him.”
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