My Love Affair with the Beautiful Game of Football

THE MINISTRY OF SPORTS

Photo illustration by Dami Mojid / THE REPUBLIC.

Do you remember where you were on the evening of 10 February 2013? I certainly do. Although it was a Sunday evening, the usual pre-Monday school rituals—polishing shoes, packing bags and ironing uniforms—had all been put on hold. The final game of the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) was underway in Johannesburg, and Nigeria was up against Burkina Faso. For weeks, the anticipation had been building. At church and at school, everywhere I turned, Nigeria’s Super Eagles were the topic of conversation. Earlier that month, they had stunned tournament favourites Côte d’Ivoire with a dramatic comeback victory. Then came a dominant 4–1 thrashing of Mali to cement their place in the final. We were so close to glory, but just as close to defeat.

When the whistle blew to start the match, time seemed to move both quickly and slowly. It froze when Nigeria’s Sunday Mba scored the first and only goal. It jumped forward with every close call, every missed opportunity to extend our lead and every save from our goalkeeper, Vincent Enyeama. Time slowed to a crawl again in those agonizing final minutes of extra time, when we all waited with bated breath to see if the Super Eagles could take it all the way. I remember Enyeama at the centre of it all, stalling in those final seconds. Then suddenly, he was hugging the referee, and the final whistle was blown. Just like that, Nigeria’s nearly 20-year drought was over. We were AFCON champions! The cheers of joy rose up around me like a chorus, spilling out from neighbours’ windows and matching the jubilant roar of the crowd in the stadium.