Two weeks after the U-18 friendly game, my injuries from the last encounter with my dad had already healed up well and good. The new season was scheduled to start in a month and the coach was naming his players who would be a part of the core team in the upcoming season.
The fixtures for the Western Region U-16 league, Lagos Divisional U16 Cup had just been released. Our first game of the season was against defending champions Ikorodu City FC under 16, while the very next game was the divisional Cup competition game was against The Strong Academy.
(The Western Region U-16 league consists of 14 teams in the western region of the country, they play each other twice and after the 26 games the top 4 teams play each other twice in a bid to decide the winner of the league.
The Lagos Divisional u16 cup on the other hand, consists of 15 teams, the 5 teams from Lagos State are joined by the top 10 Academies in the country from the season before in a single round knockout tournament. The defending champions, get to bypass the first round and join in the quarter finals.)
At school today, I could barely focus. Coach Dave had a system of shortlisting his players for the next season on the last day of July, which was a week away, after which, any player in our team, Ikeja City FC U-16, either chose between staying and only training, joining any other u16 teams willing to take them up, or registering with an academy.
I knew I had to be a part of his shortlist, Coach Dave was the only one who had any patience with me, I hadn't started to see it yet I could tell some of the players who had respect for me when I was good, before all my dad inflicted injuries, were starting to lose their respect. I had to prove myself.
As soon as the bell rang for the end of class, I ran straight to the training ground. We had our last friendly game before the season started in an hour and a half and I wanted time to train a little, massage my ankles and feet and rest before the game started. I was starting today.
The last friendly was what we called Baptism day at Ikeja City FC youth team, since the under 12s our coaches had always used the game to make their decision on players who they had doubts about. If you impressed, your chances of joining increased. If you didn't, well, let's just say you should tell mummy and daddy to start finding alternatives.
I took out my balm and shea butter mixture, this was what I massaged my injuries with. I applied them softly and thoroughly, on my ankles and my entire feet, gnashing my teeth from the pain. Coach Dave washed me from a corner, he, myself and 2 other starters today, we're the only people who had arrived yet.
After balming, I bandaged my legs as I always did, before putting on my socks. I normally warmed up for 10 minutes without my boots and then 20 with them. I always tried to exert some pressure on my wounds as I believed it helped speed up the healing.
I did 5 laps round the pitch and rested for a minute, then put on my shoes and started stretching. When I started touching the ball, other players started to arrive, as well as Jordan and Chialuka. I continued with my technical drills as the later arrivals stretched and warmed up.
About 10 mins to the start to the game it started to rain.
"Ease!!!" I heard Jordan call out from the stands, I ran towards he and Chialuka. He handed me a minty chewing gum for the game and gave me hid gloves.
"It's raining," he said, smiling.
"I know," I responded.
"You play better in the rain," he added.
"I know," I answered again.
He held my face in front of his, our forehead touching, he then said a few words as he gently slapped my face and hit my chest in repetitions, something to ginger me a before the game.
"You have always been one of the best players I know." He started, "I don't know what happened to you in the past year, but somehow whatever is affecting you doesn't affect you during the rain," he continued. "You're better than the remaining guys on this team, you're better than everyone in Hoffnung academy."
You're not scoring 1, you're not scoring two. Don't come back here without a hat-trick". He said, whispering softly at the start and ending on loud shouts that could be heard by the opposition, of whom a few had started arriving.
"Coach," I called, jogging towards the coach. "10?" I asked, I was asking him what position I'd be playing in today's friendly.
"DM," he responded.
"But, it's raining," I said softly.
"Why does that matter?" Coach asked.
"Please, just put me in 10" I responded.
"Well, we're playing with two 8s today, because there's no 10 in the squad." Coach said.
"But I'm here," I said softly, tying my bandana across my head.
"I can play you as one of the 8s, but no 10 today, simple." Coach said, in a demanding tone this time. I knew there'd be no more convincing him.
"Okay, at least it's better than DM," I said smiling.
I turned towards Jordan and gestured with my hands that I was playing as an 8. He gave two thumbs up in a cheer and started to change into the jersey. We were 5 mins from kick-off.
Before all the problems, I was an attacking midfielder, the no.10 role on the pitch. Remnants of my abilities on the ball would still tell of my brilliance on the ball, passing accuracy, long range shooting, curls on the ball, and one thing I still haven't lost, dead ball situations. Although, after I started having these problems, I started getting worse at the game, and became one of those players the coach put anywhere to complete the squad. I've played on the wing, as a defensive midfielder, as a left back, right back and in one close door friendly games in the middle of last season, I was even put in goal.
After the tactical briefing, the game started. The game was against Hoffnung International Football Academy, (Hoffnung IFA). From the first 5 minutes of the game it was clear that we were pretty evenly matched teams, I could tell their DM was the best player they had on the team. He moved slowly but his moves were calculated, he didn't rush his defensive actions and almost all our attacking attempts seemed to stop at his feet. The game just started anyway, so I just watched and learned what I could about them.
By the 20th minute, we were still quite evenly matched, no goals yet for either side and our only shot was an attempt by myself which was blocked by, who else but their DM. I decided on a plan, I was going to be evasive on the ball.
Every time I got the ball, I only touched it 2 or less times, sometimes not even at all. My reason was simple, if I did less, there be less to calculate about my style of play, so that when I wanted to, I could surprise them with my speed and other things. I wanted to simply frustrate the team and them hit them when they don't expect.
It was working, we kept hold of the ball because I was everywhere, everywhere doing nothing, but nothing that was very significant to the game. No look passes, pretending like I was going to kick the ball one time and then skipping over it when it came, body feints, etc. It was getting the crowd hyped and the opposition started to boil.
I had guaged the speed of their star player, and had seen that it was nothing compared to mine, as I was the second fastest player on Ikeja CFC, second only to Dinho, I decided I would run soon, and the opportunity to do that came.
In the 39th minute of the game a shot from our striker was parried away from goal, resulting in a corner, normally I would just whip it in, or if I was feeling like it attempt an Olympico, but I decided to play it short. It was time for a burst of speed, after a sequence of four passes between our team, passes I wasn't involved in the ball was whipped low into the edge of the box, I ran in blitzing past the opposition defensive midfielder, and hit it first time. GOAL!!!
I ran off celebrating with the team, one finger in the air, gestured towards Jordan who was in the stands that I had scored one and had two left. Our fans celebrated.
After that, the boost in morale which has started with us starting to gain control of the game now doubled, we started to run strings around them, they were very deadly on the counter attack though, but our keeper was good enough to take care of the 3 shots they had in the next 5 minutes. The fourth one though, in 3 direct passes from the goalkeeper to their forward, and he found himself with a single player left to beat to be through on goal. He didn't even bother, just hit it first time as he saw the keeper slightly off his lines. 1-1 said the scoreboard.
In the 2 minutes added on to regular time of the first half, something came. We just got the ball after 2 minutes of defending and were seeking a counter attack of our own when I decided on going for a solo run. There were only 3 players in my way, their DM and both their CBs, their fullbacks wouldn't be able to get to me in time if I start running, I deduced. From the center circle where I got the ball and faced the DM, I hit a swift elastico and was gone, the next player in front of me, I went for the rainbow flick above his head, then the DM who had recovered, came back and as the ball was still on the air, I hit a second elastico, over the head of the DM. The crowd went crazy. One of the fullbacks caught up to me but I was in that zone, a roulette was immediately pulled out of the hat and sent him running past me. The last player saw me shaping up for a shot and took the bait, sliding in for a tackle. It was a fake shot to get him out of the way and get me 1on1 vs the keeper.
As he was sliding past I heard the crowd scream louder again, I had just completed a sequence of four dribbles, all with a different skill move, each one getting the crowd going more than the last, my head was swelling. Then I fell. The defender sliding past me had clipped my right foot on his way past. PEWWWW!!! The referees whistle went.
He came rushing towards the defender and brandished his card. It was RED! The defender was sent off.
Worse off, for the opposition of course, it was a free-kick. As I stood over the free-kick, the opposition fans started chanting, Over the bar, Over the net, Over the bar, Over the net!! Not their fault though, they don't know I've never missed a free-kick from the edge of the box.
GOALLLLL!!!! The crowd yelled for joy as I scored, taking my free-kick just around the wall and in through the bottom left corner of the goal, as the keeper could only stand and admire the beauty of that kick. I ran again in celebration raising my hand gesturing the 2nd goal I had scored. The referee blew half time.
In the 15 minutes of rest the rain had fading into a slight drizzle. As the coach commended the team, I looked round to see if some of the players who weren't in the squad sheet were in the stands, Dinho and the rest. Only Jordan was there. I stood behind the players as they sat in front of the coach, who was addressing a few things.
Soon the whistle went and marked the start of the second half. With us being in front and them being a man down, we got on them from the jump. They on the other hand, had shaped up ultra defensive for the second half. The stayed compact and marked zonally, forcing us to retreat with the ball at times. I waited, for something, anything, a small gap to thread a pass, another free-kick, anything. Nothing came
In the 60th minute a chance came, the opposition striker, who had helped them equalise the game earlier on, put a foot wrong in a challenge and brought our winger down almost 30 yards from goal.
The wall was formed and two players stood on both sides of goal post, maybe hoping to head it clear if I shot at goal. Me? I had other ideas. I walked over to the winger who was fouled, where he stood behind the wall and whispered to him my decision. He was to be expecting a pass from me. Then I walked back to where I stood with two other players and we decided on a routine.
The first person was to run up to the ball, skip past it and the second person would run up behind him and pass it towards the direction which I myself would be running to thread a pass to the winger as I discussed with him. The referee blew his whistle and everything went as we had planned, the skip, the pass and then me running up as though I was going to shoot, only to pass it on again. CHEEE!! The ball crept slowly into the net as we erupted in shouts of joy. 3-1 the scoreline.
Almoat as immediately as the rain, and then drizzle stopped, the sun came out in full force, and with that came the pains, worse this time as though the injuries were fresh, I started to limp, slowly move around, and occasionally stamp my feet on the ground, Coach Dave looked on worryingly, it was the 76th minute and he had no more midfielders left on the bench. Gesturing, he enquired if I could carry on, for now, I could, but I didn't know how much longer I could go on.
The next attack came swiftly after, a string of ten passes resulted in a shout of ours being blocked by a defender, spilling out towards myself and an oncoming opposition. I got to the ball first swinging swiftly and as hard as I possibly could, the goalkeeper dove, magnificently too as he pulled of a marvelous save, keeping the scores 3-1, but only just. As it went out for a corner.
That swing was it, and I knew it, luckily it was my right foot, my although, still relatively weaker foot. I dropped for a few seconds, clutching my right ankle tightly, Coach Dave and the physio ran in, with an ice pack and a bottle of water. As the held the ice pack against my leg and ran water through it, the pain I felt made me bite onto my hand to prevent me from screaming loudly, I didn't want to come off just yet, it was still in me, the ginger, the fire, the zeal. I was doing do well in this game. I remembered Jordan, he's words "don't come back without a hat-trick" rang in my head. If I had taken that second free-kick direct I would have been going off right now, happy with my performance.
"Can you carry on?" Coach asked.
He had to repeat himself before I heard him.
"Yes, yes, it's okay, I'm good" I said, more trying to convince myself than him.
"Stand up, can you stand?" The physio asked.
I immediately got up and dusted myself up.
"Okay, okay, shake it off son, you're good." Coach Dave said. You could tell from his voice that he wasn't even sure if I truly was, but the way I got up gave him hope that I was.
They went off the pitch and the game restarted with a corner. I stood over the corner kick, a lot running through my mind. The whistle went, I decided I was going with the last thing that came to mind. We were winning, I was already feeling it way too much in my right leg, so this was probably my last action. "Go for the Olympico"
I just did, hitting with the outside of my foot in an attempt to bend it Yamal would, I watched it move in the air, seemed like I had gotten the right amount to power and curve on it. I watched the opposition defence try to get to it, it seemed too high for all of them. I watched on, this time with more conviction, the goalkeeper, his hands flapping out in the air towards the ball. He got a fingertip or two on it, but it wasn't enough. GOAL!!
I dropped, the pain on my right leg now has become to much for me, raising my hands in the air, I gestured to be subbed off.
"The scorer of that wonderful directory corner kick goal now has his hands up, gesturing to be taken off" one of the commentators said.
"Yeah, we've seen him stamp his leg multiple times, trying to shake it off, trying to carry on and he has gone down just before the corner kick, you know, so maybe the problem now is that he doesn't think he can carry on" the other responded.
"Whatever it is, I sure hope it's not a serious one, the season starts in less than a month. From the looks of today's game, he would be one hell of a miss if it's a serious one"
"Yeah, such is the quality of Ikeja City Football Club youth team, playing this game today with an almost fully rotated squad from the one we saw in the last two friendlies, yet they still have a player such as this. An assist and hat-trick with two wonderful strikes and an Olympico. Just a brilliant performance all round"
The referees chatter as I came off. A standing ovation I got from the almost 700 fans in the stadium, opposition fans including. I had made my mark.
As I hopped of the pitch in pain, with the assistant of two teammates holding me up by their shoulders, I saw my dad. His gazed tattooed on me menacingly. If I knew what a swear word was then, I probably would have used one. I knew I was in soup. I shook it off, those were problems for future me, I had just played one of the best games of my life.