My son is yelling in the Corner as Argentina takes an early shot scoring ahead of Nigeria. My nails suffer damage as I bite them pacing my living room unable to get the snack I had promised myself ten minutes ago. My brow is wet from nerves and I am unable to seat down. Nigeria is playing Argentina in the 2014 world cup and I have metamorphosed into a different person.
I am not a football fan. Honestly, I could not care less if Chelsea is playing AC Milan or Manchester United have been relegated, I think these teams have hired psychologists to profile us all and get us all addicted while they are smiling all the way to the bank. I want to make my own money too, become a brand for people to pay and watch me and be celebrated from Montenegro to Mexico, from Yenagoa to Accra. Why am I spending so much buying T-shirts that have been created to make me spend my money? Why am I in the middle of a group of stranger losing my mind and shouting so hard because Chelsea lost a match. My son is a die-hard Chelsea fan, but honestly, I had no idea how he got caught up in this psychological addiction. Me, you can’t catch me. I don’t know these people, why am I crying because AC Milan is out of the champion’s league? I have stilled my heart and told myself I will never be overwhelmed by a group of people unknown to me running after a round leather ball; except of cause Nigeria is playing and more importantly, playing the world cup.
So I go and get my fish fingers and a drink and sit back and watch as our boys dribble, defend, attack and lose elegantly to a tough side like Argentina
So why did the Mexico’s loss affect me so badly even though I had told myself I will watch only the Nigeria matches yet I sat through the Netherland Mexico match. I took sides, you will never believe, I was rooting for Mexico and when they lost through a controversial penalty kick I took umbrage with the referee. Who is this man who has cheated Mexico out of the world cup round of 16? I was mad enough to find out the referee’s antecedents. I sat up all night checking what other on-line contributors were talking about concerning the penalty. Is the referee infallible? Has he got four eyes? Please he is a human being, he can make mistake am still upset with that decision but Mexico is out, what can I do?
While I was mourning Mexico’s exit I returned to my own pre-eminent team, the Super Eagles and sat back for the Nigeria/France match. I bragged all day long about how we will make mincemeat of the French, I told anyone who cared to listen that our boys were in good form. “See how they performed when they played Argentina?” I said giggling to my friends. It was that kind of giggle that was bursting with nerves. I was nervous but I was confident. I tried to ignore all talk about the uproar on bonuses. ‘’Focus,’’ I whispered into the spirit of the Super Eagles from Abuja. ’’Leave the bonuses for now’’. (Although I am concerned that those who should give them these bonuses should ensure that our boys get their bonuses without the matter always becoming a public discourse. Also Nigeria is fast becoming a nation of money first and this should concern us all although again people’s dues must be paid when it should be paid). I digress.
So the match begins and I am unable to leave my seat in the office. Yes in the office. Then much to my chagrin I am unable to scream. it’s an office so I clench my fist, I bite my tongue, I hit my table and I have a drink.
Head bowed, I get into my car and go home to mourn as France scored two un-replied goals, one an own goal by Joseph Yobo, Captain of the Eagles. Our coach, Big Boss’s face is hard like stone.
My heart is heavy but not sad. Our boys played well but their good was not enough for France who went on to qualify for the quarter finals. I had hoped we will draw so that I can watch penalty shoot-outs and blame our loss to chance. After all even the best striker can lose a penalty and a football dunce like me can score in a penalty shoot out.
But I have again metamorphosed. My country has gone home, but I want to believe not disgraced. I shall find another team to back, to be feverish about. I am an unwitting world cup fan.
I blame it on Mr Amodu, my charming father who was a referee long before I was born. Excuse me, I need to go, there is another match at hand. May the lucky team win, if it’s through a penalty, that is.
Eugenia Abu
