He's Ghana be a star

The story begins in Kumasi in southern central Ghana. That's where Danning spent his first few years. It was an environment of frenetic activity, where people socialised in the streets, women cooked outside their homes and kids played football relentlessly. Danning's family was large and shared most things, helping each other out. He looks back fondly on those times as he recalls them through a big, pearly smile.

"Life was very different," he says. "Here everyone is stuck in their houses, but in Ghana it's much more social. Everyone is outside, playing. Kids don't stay home - they don't have PlayStations - so they stay out and play sports. Everyone's always doing something. It's always busy."

Life, however, was double-edged. And it was something even a child could sense.

"In Ghana there was always some controversy, political or social - it's a lot different to life in Australia," he says, still smiling. "I'd say life here is a lot better, a lot safer and easier."

Not knowing any different at the time, Danning was content. He would go to school each day - and hardly listen. The moment school was out, he'd rush back to play football. He was good. He modelled his game on superstar Ronaldo, dribbling, dancing, swerving, scoring goals.

"Soccer was my life," he says.

Another problem began gnawing away. His mother had disappeared, gone to Australia, leaving him with his grandmother and the extended family. It wasn't until he was seven that he was reunited with her, a world away, in Canberra. She had gone to try to establish a better life, one with more opportunity.

When Danning arrived, he was confronted by yet another challenge. Not only was he in a completely foreign world, it was impossible for him to make friends or start his new life because he could speak hardly any English. Ghana's official language is English - it was colonised by Britain - but everyone in his region primarily spoke the Twi language. They taught English in school, but Danning's attention was elsewhere. He began learning English here, but the one thing he knew was that he could rely on was football.

With this, too, there were issues.

"I started playing in Canberra," he says. "But I found that it was very different. People play differently here. The first couple of years I wasn't a great player here. I was really greedy, I would never pass the ball, never wanted to play with anyone else."

His teammates wouldn't bother keeping up. They would stand back and wait for play to restart after Danning scored. It was no way to make friends.

Then, the coach got into Danning's head. Mal Barac told the talented kid he would be a better player if he included those around him.

"Mal started making me pass and forced me to do things better and he would reward me when I did things right," Danning says.

The message got through and Danning improved. Greatly. And made friends. And felt even happier.

So well did he start playing that Barac took him to the AIS, where he met Steve O'Connor, the future Sydney FC youth team coach.

Danning eventually became part of the Sydney youth team set-up and Barac would drive him to Sydney to play, stick around and drive him back.

"He's a good man," Danning says, "I wouldn't be here without him."

It's a mature admission from a 17-year-old. But spot on. So strong has the link become between the pair that when Danning scored the winner against Wellington a fortnight ago - in just his second senior appearance - Barac cried.

"Kofi and my son are best friends," the Croatian-born coach says. "He came to me as a talented seven-year-old and we've turned into a family."

With Danning's mother raising young twins, Barac regularly left work early to drive him to the AIS for training sessions, wait, and then take him home. Barac had been a good player himself and was offered a contract with Sydney United. But football was unprofessional back then and he opted to stay in Canberra. Maybe it's a reason he's savouring Danning's progress. But the intent is genuine and the two share a healthy respect and admiration.

"We've travelled about 13,000 kilometres since the youth league began," Barac says. "It's something that needed to be done, he's a young boy.

"All I had to do was ask myself, 'If this was my son, would I do it for him?' The answer was yes, so I've done it for Kofi. I've been in a position to help him achieve his dreams. It has cost me a few dollars and some time, but it was within my power to help. It has made me feel good and given him a chance to have a good life."

Sydney FC has aided Barac with costs this season. The pair were staying in hotels each weekend for a while because Danning is still a minor and also because it's not so easy for an athlete to just stay with any family. There are diets to consider, awkward sleeping times, trips away. Now Danning stays with a Ghanaian family in Sydney's south, so things are a bit more settled. He's also secured a two-year deal with the club, so can now establish his life in Sydney.

"I never thought this would happen to me," Danning says. "I thought I would play youth league all year and hopefully get 10 minutes on the pitch for the senior team. I would have been happy with that but, as it happened, Kossie [coach John Kosmina] has given me three opportunities already and I've scored two goals. Everything's going great and hopefully next season I'll be a better player."

For Barac, each of Danning's achievements on his epic journey from West Africa to Australia's football competition is a reward in itself for years of help.

"When he scored in Sydney, I cried," Barac says. "I jumped up. It was so great. Kofi deserves it. He is one of the kindest, most good-hearted young adults you'll ever meet. To be a mentor to him has been a honour. He's doing well right now and this is just another chapter in his journey. I hope he plays for Australia one day. That would make my heart sing."