It was Saturday as usual. Boys in the street had gathered to play football at the community field just down the road. We were playing against the next street. We gathered together at Mama Ifeoma's canteen to strategize with Chike being the coach. We found him to be more experienced in football as he had played semi-pro before. But for the umpteenth time, his plan was simple: go play football, score a few goals, win. Then later we'll all gather and sip garri and groundnut under the mango tree.
Several times, I've wondered how that was a better motivation. But then again, on a few occasions, it had worked perfectly well for us, and we all celebrated with bowls of garri and groundnuts sponsored by Chike under the big mango tree.
That Saturday, with schools on vacation and everyone had gathered at the community field. I wore my oldest pair of canvas shoes. One side had already opened its mouth like it wanted to talk. Emeka, the smallest but fastest amongst u,s, had tied a red ribbon across his head like a warrior ready for battle. He had just returned from boarding school. And Timi, the quiet dribbler, was already on the pitch. Thanks to the holidays, we had our best men in the field ready to give their best to trash the other team.
Soon, the other team arrived. They looked more hefty than us. That had been their advantage over other teams. And the more reason I expected our coach to come up with a plan. But all we got was a promise for food.
As the match kicked off, it became clear that the other street boys came prepared and with a proper match plan. They were faster, tougher, and had a guy nicknamed “Muscle” who looked like he ate dumbbells for breakfast. He stood his ground on their defense, making it tough for my team to penetrate. They had more possession of the ball
Finally, Timi got the ball, dribbled past a few defenders of the opponents, and headed straight to the opponents, which is a counterattack. I ran after him in the opposite direction.
“Pass! Pass!” I screamed at Timi when I noticed the opponent's defenders were gaining on him.
He ignored me and tried to dribble the ball, and the ball disappeared under the man’s foot like magic.
By the end of the first half. We were down by 2 goals.
“You see wetin your pride cause?” Emeka attacked Timi at halftime. He was panting.
“I'm sorry,” David replied, waving his hand. “Teamwork is the key in the second half.”
"Okay, listen up, guys." Chike roared as he approached the team. "Seems like you guys don't want the garri with groundnuts. Because with the way you guys are playing, it seems like you guys are not really hungry."
"Oga Chike. We need a strategy against these boys. Leave this as your garri motivation. They're much taller, faster, and heftier than us." I countered him.
"No, don't leave the garri. In fact, bring it into the equation. Na that garri be my motivation (that garri is my motivation). Some of us don't have food at home to eat this morning." Emeka said, giving me a stern look.
I heard murmurs from other players as they agreed with him. That was the first time I realized that people's goals might be the same, but the reason behind it is different.
The second half began, and we started playing better. Emeka managed to squeeze in a goal from the corner. The crowd shouted. We were alive again.
The other team added another goal. But that didn't kill our morale. We played like warriors. Fighting through their defense. Luckily, Timi scored a goal through a counter-attack.
We had much possession of the ball in the second half. We played like our lives depended on it. Then came the moment. That dying minute.
Timi had passed the ball to me. Muscle was advancing towards me at full speed. I claimed myself, flicked the ball a little, and it flew past him. I looked up, the only obstacle before me, and the goal was the goalkeeper. Luckily, the goalkeeper stepped out too far. I took the shot of my life.
Time slowed.
I was going to get the equalizer for my team.
I could already hear the cheers in my head.
I could feel our supporters standing, waiting to scream.
Then the ball hit the crossbar, bounced back.
The referee blew the final whistle.
I dropped to the ground. I had lost the equalizing goal for my team
We assembled at the mango tree once more. Tired, dejected, like warriors who had lost on the battlefield.
"You guys played well. Luck wasn't just on our side." Chike had tried to comfort us.
"I just needed this win. I needed that garri and groundnut." Emeka cried.
I looked up to him and at his shoulders. "I'm sorry, bro."
"Who said you guys are not getting the garri and groundnuts?" Chike cuts in.
We looked up to see Mama Ifeoma approaching with a big tray filled with garri, groundnut, and water. I turned to Emeka, his face quickly lit up. There were happy cheers from the crowd, especially from those interested.
Although we lost, we walked home with smiles on our faces.
