Day 20 - A Tale of Two Football Boots

*sigh*

I know. I did it again. This time, on a grander scale. And this time, there's no one to blame. Sadly. My excuse? Really, I have none. Been having very full days and all, though. Anyways, no excuse. I messed up. I'll try to be faithful, but I'm giving no promises. (Dear future wife, please ignore that last statement. God bless you as you do so)

I'll make it up. Today I'm gisting of something quite interesting. Well, I consider it interesting, you be the judge.

As you've figured, I'll be talking about my football boots. You won't believe the interesting story the pair holds. First of all, let me explain the circumstances surrounding the purchase of this striking pair of boots.

I got into the MBA programme with the aim of doing a couple of things. First of all, I wanted to misbehave. Grossly. And that I did. No further comments needed. Secondly, I wanted to improve my spoken Yoruba, my mother tongue. I got my friends like Tolu and Foluke to always converse in Yoruba with me (they never did), and always correct my failings (they always did, after a few rounds of annoying laughter). Thirdly, I wanted to play the guitar, so I bought a cute guitar, got some materials from Akinwunmi, learnt three chords from Uzoma, and have been practising my three chords ever since! I'm kinda having trouble moving gracefully from one chord to the other. Hopefully, I'll have the time to learn more soon.

I never wanted to play football.

To be clear, I like football. I like the thrill of victory and serenity of defeat. I organised an interdepartmental football competition in my undergraduate days and watched how full grown men broke down in tears after losing the semi-finals in a penalty shoot-out. I even spearheaded the supporters' club for my MBA class' football team in our first year. So yeah, football was my thing...watching and enjoying it, not playing it. And by the way, I'm a fan of the best and the richest club in the world. Go figure.

But in my second year, I decided to give playing a shot. I cannot particularly remember why I decided to play. Maybe I figured I had the requisite skills needed to play well (I did), or I could perform better than some centerbacks that were on the team (I could), or maybe the team was incomplete one day and someone asked Jide to make up the numbers. Whatever the reason, fact is, I started playing. And I played well. I wasn't exceptional at first though. There was the learning curve to navigate. But I learned fast. I remember in one of my first matches, when the ball got to me, my head will always be down, looking at the ball, thus hindering my movement and my sight...until someone shouted 'Jide, look up and pass the ball!' And that I did. I subsequently learnt how to move with my eyes scanning for my next move/pass, trusting my feet to handle the ball well. Another hilarious moment was when I was in the box during a match, and the ball was almost zooming past me into the net with some incredible speed, and suddenly, by some reflex, my hands shot up and stopped the ball in mid-air! A penalty was conceded. Luckily, we were leading by five goals, so it wasn't a biggie. I never learnt how to hold both hands behind my back while inside the box until the the very first game of the Dean's Cup competition where I committed the same offence. If not for the dexterity of our goalkeeper, Jonathan, we would have lost that match. But we're getting ahead of ourselves here...

Akin, our team captain, had enough faith in me, and so I made the first team. I can't remember the poor dude I replaced (lol!). Anyways, the highlight of our 'football season' at the Lagos Business School' is the Dean's Cup. As the competition approached, we began to prepare earnestly. I was getting better and better with each training session or friendly match. But there was one problem: I did not have a pair of football boots. :(

Depending on the kind of game, I usually played barefeet, or I used a pair of white sneakers that kind of stood out. The sneakers were good, but was slippery against the grass. And, as my teammates never failed to remind me, it made me look like a secondary school interhouse sport champion or prefect (depending on who was doing the yabbing). Impervious as I was to their jabs, it was still imperative that I get a proper pair of boots against the Dean's Cup competition.

So that's how Funto, Tunde and I went shopping. After a bit of searching I found the perfect pair. But it was N6,500! Can you freaking imagine! Six Thousand, Five Hundred Naira. That's like 4 months of BIS! On top football boot? When I heard the price, I knew the Ibo boys had to be pulling some stunt. Tunde said I should forget it, that the price was exhorbitant. So we left.

I later thought that it wouldn't make sense to train so hard with the team all through the year, and miss playing at the Dean's Cup because of some lousy expensive pair of boots. I then personally went round looking for another pair of boots, but couldn't find. Wait..I didnt tell you guys why the pair of boots was that expensive, and why I couldn't find an alternative. It's simple: I have pretty large feet. No further comments needed.

Anyways, I figured that the only way buying the pair was going to be worth it was if we won the Dean's Cup competition. Anything less would be tantamount to flushing money down the toilet. Literally. So I closed my eyes and bought the pair, saying a prayer that God should smile on my team.

Now fast forward to the first match we played. My team quickly put in two goals into the opponent's net. When the second goal went in, I looked at my boots and smiled. Things were looking up. Second half started, and suddenly our opponents scored. This was shocking to say the least. We gathered ourselves together and 'gingered' a bit. Few minutes afterwards, they scored again! Now it was all leveled. This time, I was scared. Not just because it seemed the game was slipping away from our grasps, but because my capital investment hasn't fully depreciated. In management parlance, I figured that using the straight-line method of depreciation, my boots should fully depreciate in 3 football matches (competition matches, not friendlies, mind you). This was the first match, and it didn't look like we would win. Financial disaster loomed! (It was somewhere around this time I had that slip of the hand. Thank God for Jonathan oh).

By this time, team morale had dropped a couple of notches, but we tried and tried and tried and tried to score, but couldnt. Until the full-time whistle was blown. Truth is, our defence was rock solid - there was Otisi at the left back, Obuns and Feyi in the middle, and of course me at the right. The indefatigable Tito was in the defensive midfield - some airtight sturves, trust me. In fact, Jonathan the goalkeeper was busy replying his blackberry messages while the game was ongoing, because the ball hardly reached his box. But we needed to score, and we needed to score desperately. At least, for my boots' sake. For my N6,500.

Extra time proved no different. We tried and tried and tried and tried to score, but couldnt. Until the final whistle was blown. It was now time for penalties. Anyone who has even an iota of knowledge about football would realise that when the match is to be settled by penalties, it's anybody's game. This one was worse. Our best players were the ones who messed up! All the guys who couldn't score a penalty to save their lives were the ones making the shot, including Otisi who had a broken leg! The penalty scores were so close, that ALL TEN players in each team had to play. Yet there was no clear winner. It was down to a sudden death between the two goal keepers. The tension on the field was so tight, I couldn't watch. The opponents goal keeper took the first shot. A powerful shot. It went over the bar. The jubilation from our camp was thunderous! It was now time for our keeper to take his own shot. If he misses, the penalties would start all over again. If he gets it, we win. Jonathan looked round, visibly peeved at the overstretched penalties.

"Can I take my gloves off?" He asked a nearby teammate.

Of course!

So he hurriedly took his gloves off, walked towards the ball, sized it up and moved back to take the shot.

The silence on the pitch was deafening. I could hear Jonathan's boots moving across the grass from where I was hiding my face.

Jonathan took the shot.

Jonathan scored!

The pitch erupted! Everybody ran towards our star keeper, carrying him and shouting his name. All of a sudden we were in Rome, and Jonathan was our Ceaser, back from conquering the Spartans. Screams of JO-NA-THAN!, JO-NA-THAN,! JO-NA-THAN! filled the air. It was a moment i'd live to remember. Our very first match, a very tough game, and a very deserved win. My boots couldn't agree more.

We went on to win the competition, and we emerged champions, again. My boots finally had its moments on the pitch, and I had my moments of fun and glory.

Now the pair is hung somewhere in my room, together with my gold medal. I'm thinking of building a glass case with gold rims, and putting the boots in it...a tribute to, and a reminder of, the days when I attempted something I had little knowledge of, and succeeded; and also of the great powers in teamwork.

Some pictures...

At the beginning of the competition. From left to right (back) we have Gbenro, Tunde (highest goal scorer), Tosin, Moi, Obuns, Funto. And squatting we have (from left to right) Tito, Feyi, Jonathan, Mojeed and Otisi.

Obuns was my partner in arms. I believe we learnt together cos he was just darn indisciplined when I started. He always wanted to score. Can you imagine a central defender running upfront at every given opportunity with the hope that his luck shines, hereby leaving gaping holes at the back? OR sometimes attempting to score in his own goalpost! But he learnt. We became a solid tag team at the back

The team after winning the gold medal. Notice Akin ostentatiously displaying his captain's band. The guy is just too proud... Also notice the two guys behind holding up the banner. That's Fisayo and Seun. They did so well in holding up that banner, that they were giving gold medals too!

The expanded team members, including those on the bench. Just subtract those in the previous picture from this one, and you'd see who the benchwarmers are. The guy at the extreme left, yeah, the one with height issues, that's Coach Zezu. He did a great job by the way.

The thrill of victory!

Official pose for Nike

Tunde, the highest goal scorer getting his salary from some random babe. *sigh* I wish I scored those goals...

Up and coming football star

And finally, the picture of me in my white boots which made my teammates laugh so hard. If you're not seeing the picture, or if you're seeing an X, please refresh your browser. Keep refreshing, soon enough, the picture would emerge.

Mscheew.