In the ever-evolving world of Belgian football, where talents come and go like rainy afternoons in Brussels, few names evoke a sense of cult hero status quite like Francis Severeyns, affectionately known as Cisse—a nickname that rolls off the tongue like a chant on the terraces of Bosuilstadion. Born on January 8, 1968, in Westmalle, a quiet Flemish town known more for its abbey beer than for producing lethal strikers, Severeyns defied the odds by building a career that was equal parts promise, productivity, and peculiarity.
PART ONE
Severeyns’ story begins where many Belgian football tales of the 1980s took root: in the academy of Royal Antwerp, one of the oldest and proudest clubs in the country. By the time he broke into the senior team in the 1984–85 season, it was clear to anyone with functioning eyesight that this wiry teenager had a knack for sniffing out goals—and, what’s more, the swagger to do so with a certain insouciance that bordered on audacious.
Moreover, his rise was not a slow burn; it was an explosion of talent. During the 1987–88 season, Cisse rattled in 24 goals, making him the top scorer in the Belgian First Division—a remarkable feat not only because of his youth, but also because he did it with the confidence of a man who’d been dominating defences for years. As a result, he was awarded the Belgian Young Professional Footballer of the Year, a trophy he probably had to clear room for next to his VHS collection and well-worn boots.
Yet, like many young stars who shine too brightly too quickly, he caught the wandering eye of scouts beyond Belgium’s borders, and in 1988, at the age of 20, he made the leap to Pisa S.C. in Italy’s Serie A. However, despite his golden boots and goalscoring pedigree, the move proved more challenging than expected. Pisa, as beautiful a city as it may be with its famously leaning tower, was less than ideal for Cisse’s attacking instincts, as the team often found itself on the back foot, defending desperately against the giants of Italian football.
PART TWO
As it turned out, Severeyns scored just one goal in 26 appearances for Pisa across the 1988–89 season, a statistic that was as sobering as an espresso on a Monday morning. In contrast to the free-scoring exploits of his Antwerp days, Italy offered frustration, tactical rigidity, and perhaps too much pasta. And so, like any sensible man who misses the taste of home and the feeling of hitting the net, Cisse packed his bags and returned to Royal Antwerp in 1992.
This second spell at Antwerp proved to be a renaissance of sorts. Not only did Severeyns rediscover his goalscoring touch, but he also played a central role in what would become one of the club’s most memorable European campaigns. In the 1992–93 UEFA Cup Winners’ Cup, Royal Antwerp shocked many by reaching the final in London, where they faced the star-studded Italian side Parma.
In particular, the final itself—held at Wembley—was a stage that seemed perfectly set for Cisse. And indeed, he did not disappoint, scoring the equaliser that momentarily made it 1–1 and sent the travelling Belgian fans into rapture. However, dreams don’t always end in fairy tales, and despite Severeyns’ strike, Parma ultimately ran out 3–1 winners, with the likes of Tomas Brolin and Faustino Asprilla proving too much for the Antwerp defence to handle. Nevertheless, for a fleeting moment, Cisse had shone on one of football’s grandest stages, and his goal remains etched in Antwerp folklore.
After his heroics in Europe, Severeyns found himself once again on the move. In 1993, he signed for KV Mechelen, a club that had only recently come down from the high of winning the Cup Winners’ Cup in 1988. Though he didn’t replicate his scoring feats from earlier years, Cisse was part of Mechelen squads that reached the Belgian Cup finals in both 1990–91 and 1991–92, though frustratingly, the team ended up runners-up on both occasions.
Still, Mechelen’s honour roll during his time included winning the Amsterdam Tournament in 1989 and the Jules Pappaert Cup in 1990, so there was silverware, if not quite the golden kind he and the fans might have hoped for. Furthermore, these years represented a maturing period in his career—less explosive perhaps, but still dependable, industrious, and filled with flashes of the old goal-hungry genius.
Following his Belgian adventures, Severeyns took an alpine detour, signing for FC Tirol Innsbruck in Austria. The Austrian Bundesliga is not typically the first stop for a Belgian marksman, and while he had modest success, it was clear that he had begun to enter the twilight phase of his top-flight career. Nevertheless, it offered him new experiences, another change of scenery, and maybe even some schnitzel.
Returning once more to Royal Antwerp in 1996, Cisse demonstrated a loyalty to the club that had first nurtured his talent. By this stage, he was something of a cult figure, not quite the goal machine of his earlier years, but still capable of poaching a goal or two when least expected. He would go on to play for K.F.C. Germinal Beerschot, and in the latter stages of his career, he even turned out for Royal Cappellen FC in the Belgian Third Division A, where presumably, his reputation preceded him, and the defenders gave him just a tad more respect than was wise.
PART THREE
On the international stage, Severeyns was never a mainstay, but he did earn seven caps for Belgium, a number that—while modest—reflects the high regard in which he was held, particularly during the late 1980s. He didn’t score for the Red Devils, but given the fierce competition for striking spots and the tactical rigidity of international football at the time, merely donning the shirt was an achievement in itself.
To summarise his career is no easy task, for Francis Severeyns was a footballer of contrasts—brilliant but sometimes inconsistent, prolific then frustratingly quiet, loved by fans and underestimated by some coaches. Yet, he was always passionate, always industrious, and unmistakably himself.
In the end, football is not just about trophies, caps, or goal tallies. It’s about the moments—the roar after a goal at Wembley, the hat-tricks in front of adoring home fans, the loyal returns to clubs that once embraced you. Severeyns had all of these. He may not have had a Ballon d’Or, but he had something many others don’t: a place in the hearts of those who watched him, a nickname that stuck, and a legacy that lingers in the smoke-filled cafés and lively bars of Antwerp.
And if nothing else, at least he can say he once outscored everyone in Belgium while still looking like a guy who might fix your central heating between games. Not bad for a lad from Westmalle.