Chapter 21: Waiting in the Shadow
The stadium lights of the international venue glinted off the slick grass, casting long shadows across the pitch. Kweku sat on the bench, towel draped over his shoulders, heart pounding as the Ghana Under-17 team prepared for their first qualifier.
Ephraim had called him aside that morning. "Stay sharp. Watch every pass, every move. Learn from the starters. Your chance will come."
Kweku nodded, gripping the edge of his water bottle. He felt a mix of excitement and nerves, creating an almost unbearable tension. The whistle blew, and the starters sprinted onto the field.
The match began fast. Ghana dominated possession early, moving the ball through precise short passes. But their opponents, a disciplined Tunisia side, pressed aggressively, blocking lanes, intercepting passes, and exploiting any hesitation. Kweku felt the intensity from the sidelines — faster, sharper, and more tactical than any game he had played before.
Midway through the first half, the Tunisian striker he had admired, Mohammed Gharbi— a tall, imposing forward with a perfect first touch — lunged into a tackle that sent one of Ghana's midfielders to the ground, twisting his ankle. The coach signalled immediately: someone had to replace him.
"Kweku," Coach Mensah called, voice carrying across the bench. "Warm up. You're going in."
Adrenaline surged. Kweku ripped off his tracksuit and sprinted onto the field. The roar of the crowd washed over him. The first touch of the ball against his boot felt strange at first — the pace was higher, defenders faster, and the game moved with relentless pressure.
He remembered Ama's words, folded in his pocket: "You belong on that field."
Taking a deep breath, he focused. His first contribution was simple but vital — a short pass to Ephraim in midfield. The movement of the ball seemed to slow for him as he adapted to the pace.
By the 60th minute, Kweku had made a difference. He intercepted a sloppy pass from the opponent's midfielder near the halfway line and surged forward. He dribbled past two defenders; losing one with a body feint and the other with an elastico. He slipped a through-ball to the striker, Benjamin, who hammered the ball into the top left corner. The keeper leapt, but he had no choice. GOAL! The crowd erupted. Ghana levelled the match 1–1.
The remaining minutes were tense. Kweku chased every loose ball, covered for teammates, and started coordinating with Benjamin, who almost scored in the 87th minute. A parried header became a corner, which was taken short. After the ball found Kweku, he noticed the striker at the far post and crossed it to him, but Benjamin's header only found the side netting.
When the final whistle blew, Ghana had drawn their first match.
On the bus back to the hotel, exhausted but elated, Kweku whispered to himself: "One step at a time. One match at a time."
They were tired but proud, they hadn't buckled under the pressure of the big stage. All they had to do was work hard and prepare for the next one.
The day of the second qualifier came so quickly that it felt unreal. The match was against a Senegal team known for aggressive defence. Kweku remained on the bench at kickoff, heart pounding with anticipation. Ephraim gave him a quick nod: "Be ready, we'll need you."
Fifteen minutes in, disaster struck again — Ghana's right winger, Philip Quartey, collided with an opposing defender and had to leave the pitch, holding his ribs the coach looked at the bench and whispered to the assistant coach. Kweku's name was called.
"Mensah", the coach called, "run at their fullbacks and try to pick them apart with your passes". " You've done it in training, now do it where it matters". Kweku nodded, playing out his decisions on the pitch in his head.
This time, he ran on almost instinctively, it wouldn't be the first time he'd played in the wings. He felt the crowd's energy surge, adrenaline sharpening every sense. The ball moved faster, passes were tighter, defenders were more cunning, but Kweku adapted.
The first half was a struggle to find rhythm. He misjudged a few passes, lost the ball twice, and was reprimanded by the coach, but he didn't let it shake him. He focused on observation — remembering patterns, reading defenders' positions, and noting where gaps appeared.
By the second half, he was in sync with Benjamin. He executed a clever one-two with the striker, slicing through the defensive line. Benjamin began drifting towards the left, just enough to pull two defenders towards him, giving his teammates needed space. Kweku had many options to pass to but spotting the goalkeeper slightly off his line, Kweku took his chance. He curled a precise shot into the top corner. Goal. Ghana led 1–0.
The opposition pressed hard, desperate to equalise. Kweku sprinted back on defence, intercepting passes, blocking crosses, and helping maintain the lead. In the final minutes, he assisted another goal with a perfectly timed cross, which Benjamin won. The defender who was supposed to be marking him couldn't get him off balance. The goalkeeper got a hand to it but not enough to stop it. GOAL. 2-0. Senegal kept trying to get one back, capitalising on a momentary lapse in concentration to launch a quick counter, but their striker was caught offside and in the end, Ghana won. 2–0.
Back in the locker room, drenched in sweat, Kweku sat quietly, letting the victory sink in. Ephraim clapped him on the shoulder. "Not bad for a substitute, huh?"
Kweku smiled, exhausted. "Just doing my part."
But inside, he felt the fire of potential. If he could shine when entering the game cold, imagine what he could do with a full match.