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Chapter 22: Securing the Group Stage
The third match against Sudan would determine whether Ghana advanced to the group stage. The stadium was packed, flags waving, drums beating, and chants echoing across the pitch. Kweku started on the bench again despite his superb display, the coach wanted to keep him as a super sub, someone who could change the match in dire moments.
The first half was brutal. Ghana struggled to break through, and by halftime, the score was 0–0. There were barely any highlights, no shots on target for both sides. The coach's frustration was evident, even Kweku and those who hadn't played felt the tension rising around him. "Do you think this is a joke?" the coach said angrily, "that our training was nought, a bigger team would have punished you for that display".
"Listen up", he said more calmly, " we had a plan for today, follow it and we'll be fine".
The boys run back out energised, but the final product was still lacking. Then, disaster struck: Ghana's captain and attacking midfielder, Atsutey, twisted his knee attempting a tackle. The team needed a spark, someone to change the flow of the game. Kweku's name was called again.
This time, he ran onto the pitch with determination forged from two months of camp and two qualifiers. He remembered every sprint, every drill, every note from his notebook. His first touches were sharp, passes quick, vision clear.
The opposition underestimated him. Kweku intercepted a long ball near midfield, dribbled past two defenders, and sent a precise long through pass to Quartey who curled it into the bottom left corner. The keeper lunged with his arm stretched to its limits but he couldn't reach it. 1–0.
Minutes later, Kweku's persistence created another opportunity. A defender misjudged his movement, lunging to intercept a pass that never happened, leaving enough space behind him for Kweku to execute his real plan; Kweku struck a low, curling shot from just outside the box. GOAL. 2–0. The stadium erupted. Ghana was close to securing advancement.
In the final minutes, he chased down every loose ball, blocked dangerous counterattacks, and helped maintain control. When the final whistle blew, Ghana had won convincingly. The players hugged, and Kweku's teammates lifted him into the air.
That night, in the quiet of his dorm room, Kweku wrote in his notebook:
Goal: Make every opportunity count.
Goal: Keep learning from the best.
Though he had started as an unused substitute, his resilience, skill, and focus had helped Ghana reach the group stage.
Kweku knew bigger challenges awaited — faster opponents, higher stakes, and his first chance to start a match. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of pride, knowing that even in the shadows, he had shone and it was seen.
As the commentator finished up, Kweku was announced the man of the match for the first time since coming to the Under 17 team.
The sun beat down on the stadium as Ghana's Under-17 squad prepared for their first group stage match. The stands were filled with fans waving flags, some chanting, some silently watching with tense anticipation.
Kweku sat on the bench, towel over his shoulders, watching the starters warm up. He traced the outline of his mother's face in his mind — her steady hands, the way she always insisted he practice drills even when tired, and the quiet pride in her eyes when he scored goals back at home on the sandy pitch.
This is for her, he thought. Every sprint, every pass, every touch on that ball.
Coach Ofori blew the whistle sharply, calling the players over. "Remember, Ghana," he said, "this first match sets the tone. Don't underestimate them. Control possession, watch the gaps, and be patient. Keep your composure under pressure."
Kweku tightened his boots. He wasn't starting — at least not yet. That meant he had to watch, learn, and be ready. The opponents were a disciplined Peru youth side, quick with the ball and precise in their passing. Their formation was a tight 4-3-3, with two wingers cutting in sharply and a short striker who seemed capable of exploiting the smallest defensive lapses.
The whistle for kickoff sounded. Ghana moved the ball confidently, with short passes, quick rotations, and midfielders dropping back to support defenders. Kweku felt the tension as the game's pace immediately exceeded any scrimmage he'd played back home.
Halfway through the first half, the team's right winger, Quartey, collided with an opposing defender while chasing a loose ball. The whistle blew — an injury. The coach turned to the bench. "Mensah, get ready."
Kweku's pulse raced. His first thought was of his mom, sitting in the small living room, watching a video of their match, telling him to be smart, stay focused, and make every opportunity count. He ripped off his bib and jogged onto the field.
The roar of the crowd hit him immediately, a mix of cheers and drums. He touched the ball for the first time — a simple pass to midfield — but he could feel the speed, the precision, the pressure all at once. The defenders pressed hard, cutting off angles, anticipating his movement. He adjusted, quickly scanning the field, looking for spaces to exploit.
"Watch the left flank!" Ephraim shouted from midfield. Kweku sprinted toward the wing, tracking the ball, sliding past a defender with a clean touch. The crowd rose in unison as he fed a short pass into the centre, but the midfielder's shot was blocked.
Minutes later, Kweku intercepted a pass near midfield, seeing an opportunity. He feinted right, cutting left, dodging two players. Their shape was broken, and he had to exploit it. With a quick glance, he sent a through-ball into the box. Benjamin controlled it and scored a goal. Ghana led 1–0.
The crowd erupted. Kweku felt a surge of adrenaline but kept moving, marking his man, covering spaces, and helping the team maintain possession. The opponents adjusted, switching to a high press, forcing Ghana back into defensive positions. Kweku's first-time decisions became critical. Every touch counted.
By halftime, Ghana was clinging to the lead. Kweku's breathing was heavy, but he thought again of his mom — how she had stayed up late helping him memorise strategies, watching him practice even when he complained of exhaustion. He allowed her presence to steady him, focus his mind, and sharpen his instincts.
The second half began. Ghana's midfield rotated faster, defenders pushed higher, and Kweku found himself constantly moving — intercepting passes, feeding the other forwards, and covering gaps. The opponents struck twice, forcing Ghana into a defensive scramble, but Ephraim's positioning helped neutralise one dangerous attack.
With twenty minutes remaining, Kweku received the ball near the left flank. A defender charged him, but he kept his touch precise, sending the younger stopper trailing, then he threaded a pass into the box. Benjamin latched onto it again, scoring a second goal. 2–0.
The crowd roared louder, and Kweku felt the fatigue settle into his legs. Yet the knowledge that he had contributed to the lead filled him with focus. He moved into position, blocking a counterattack, tracking wingers, and helping maintain control.
When the final whistle blew, Ghana had won convincingly. The players embraced, sweat-streaked and exhausted. Kweku smiled, thinking of his mom — her steady encouragement had carried him mentally through the first match.
Later, in the quiet of the locker room, he wrote in his notebook:
Goal: Learn every player's tendencies for the next match.
Goal: Keep focus, control energy, and stay sharp for all opportunities.
The first group stage match was over. Kweku knew more challenges awaited, but he had survived the test of speed, pressure, and tactical execution, he had done it.