In His Shadow

by M Koleosho

was a grievous offense in his eyes. Yet despite the tough exterior, Coach Manuel was a very caring man and the first father figure I had in my life. After our rocky start, with most of the team learning to shed the bad habits we picked up from the previous year, we were able come together as a team, unified by one goal which was to win. More importantly this was the home away from home that I craved back then. What I lacked at my real home was made up for by my school family.

  It was the recipe for success. It was a weird feeling at first when we started winning games. I had my fair share of goals that year, enough to get noticed by some of the big teams in the country.

  Soon, their scouts started coming to our games and there were rumors I’d get signed soon. I tried to block the rumors out, but the more we won, the more the hype grew. I had turned into an overnight star but many didn’t know just how much coach Manuel was putting us through to make us look that good. Like I said earlier he really changed the way we saw and believed in ourselves and for that I will be eternally grateful. I became the hottest thing on campus.

  Getting attention from girls that had previously ignored me was alien at first, but after a while it became the norm. Just as it became normal for my name to be yelled out whilst walking down the street and random store owners giving me gifts for my ‘mama and siblings.’ We had restored the city’s pride and I was the major beneficiary of its citizen’s goodwill. It is amazing just how much winning changes; overnight it seemed our sleepy town had finally woken up from its slumber. This was none more evident than the state championship game. A game many would say propelled me into local lore and one that would cement my relationship with the townspeople for life.

  Back then local championships were played at the city’s University stadium, but there was so much hype surrounding it that the venue was shifted to a professional football team’s arena. The other team was considered the best in the country, and at least four of their players were going professional after the season. It was like walking on egg shells back then. The attention to the game and its participants was suffocating. Everywhere I went someone had something to say to me about it. It got to a point I didn’t want to step out of the house for fear someone would be waiting at our doorsteps to tell me how badly the city needed the win. The pressure was getting to me and I needed an escape of some sorts. I began to worry about not living up to the people’s expectations. What if I didn’t perform like they expected me to? What if we let them down? I had gotten accustomed to being treated nicely and I was scared of jeopardizing it. It showed in the practice sessions leading up to the game. My timing was off and so was my attention. Coach Manuel, sensing what was happening, called for a timely retreat and took the whole team into the mountains a week before the game.

  There we were able to get away from the distractions and concentrate once more on what was at hand. It was a God send and much needed. I was able to purge my mind of the negativity and focus once more on the task at hand. Apparently I wasn’t the only one feeling this way, as the overall team mood seemed to improve. It was weird practicing in the mountains; the serenity was a distraction when we first started, but after a while I got used to it. It helped me so much back then just getting away from all that was clouding my thoughts that I still take retreats to the mountains up till now.

  After our week was up, we went back to the city. Strengthened mentally and physically, prepared to give our opponents the fight of their lives. The attention didn’t stop from the city people but it was easier dealing with them this time around. I shut out most things that could bother me and focused on the game at hand. Offers were pouring in from clubs to come play for them after the season but I chose to ignore the stacks of letters piling up on our dining table. After the game I’d go through each to see what was best for me. But until then, the final was all that mattered.

  The tension that preceded that game was unreal. I remember sitting in the locker room with my teammates thinking to myself that I was going to puke at any moment. I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way; a mere glance at my colleagues in nearby stalls, showed a team battling with nerves. A lot of athletes will tell you they get nervous before games. It’s nothing new, what you don’t want and need is a complete meltdown before your big moment. We were quite close to it, and if not for some timely intervention, the outcome of that night might be completely different. Coach Manuel pulled a rabbit out of his hat which would prove quite decisive. He gave a speech that still makes my heart race whenever I think about it.

  A speech about the underdog, about never getting the respect due. About fighting for everything we’ve got. A speech that made us seem larger than life, one that made us realize just how far we had come. Yes the team out there had more talent, more fans and was expected to kick our behinds, but this was the game of football, nothing was guaranteed. He spoke about pride, about a city that has been overlooked for years. A city that has dealt with harsh economic problems yet the people continue to plow ahead despite the obstacles they face on a daily basis. He told us the city was counting on us, and the least we could do was repay all the good will they had shown us. Slowly our confidence started to rise again and we began to think we could do it. In a matter of moments our whole outlook on the game had changed. We weren’t going to cower in our shells, waiting to be destroyed by our opponents. If at all we go down, we’d do so fighting.

  And so it began. Very few feelings can compare to what one feels walking down the tunnel and out onto the football pitch. The deafening roar of the crowd stunning you for a few moments. Some get used to it, but for me it’s a brand new feeling even till date. You look around that stadium, hoping to find someone you know, and sometimes you do, but most times all before you is a sea of faces. Most unrecognizable to you, but you not to them. There is this familiarity in their eyes, like they’ve known you all their lives. They scream your name and it almost feels like they’ve known you beyond that soccer pitch, and maybe they do, after all they’ve read up on you and followed your every move. Some even know so much about your personal life, you begin to wonder if they live in your head. They call themselves fans and our success brought them out in droves. Now I am more adept at dealing with the fanatical ones, but back then, such was still a novelty to me. The force of over five thousand people, yelling and screaming at you, all at once, can be quite intimidating for a sixteen year old. From playing in front of hundreds, to suddenly being thrust in front of thousands. Some on your side, a lot hostile to your team. I bet every hair on my neck was standing as I walked to the center of the pitch, I sure know there were butterflies in the pit of my belly, frolicking around without a care in the world.

  The beauty of football is that once the game starts, and the players begin to move into place, that whiff of the grass beneath you and the first touch of the ball…it places you in the moment and all the distractions fade away. Slowly all the distractions and mental barriers you have built up crumble into nothingness as you focus on the task at hand. All credit to our opponents, they gave us all we could handle and much more. It was a well played game from start to finish. Sometimes tempers got out of hand, but that’s to be expected when so much is at stake. We were the under dogs that wouldn’t give up, they were the alpha dog intent on imposing itself on us. The result was an exciting, fast paced game that left the fans on the edge of their seats for most of the game.

  Both sides had chances to score, none willing to budge to the other. Plenty of dramatics from both keepers, incredible displays of will and grit from the defenses, but with all things in life, all good things must come to an end.

  It was in extra time and the game was still deadlocked at 0 -0. We had the ball after forcing their keeper into a quick save. Frustration was beginning to mount as we saw our chances slipping away. Penalties were simply not our thing. We practiced for them, but the whole team seemed to stink at it. The reality that this game might be settled that way was beginning to sink in. We were so desperate for a goal that even our goal keeper came up fr
ont for the corner kick. The ball was swung in from the right corner; I was fighting for position in the box. A teammate headed at the goal but the opposing team’s defender was in place. He hurriedly kicked it out, only to have it aimed directly at me.

  What happened must have taken less than 30 seconds but as I think about it now, replaying it through the lens of my memory, it felt like everything had slowed down. I broke free from the guy tugging at my jersey, knew I only had a few seconds to react and had to make it count. Opponents yelled to distract me, teammates yelled at me to shoot. It was chaos in those few moments, so much depended on that one shot.

  I hit the volley, barely missing the guy who had just thrown his body at the ball. A second earlier and he’d have blocked it, but such was not the case and I watched the ball sail past the out stretched hands of the keeper and safely into the roof of the net.

  We had won!

  I was besieged with more offers than I could follow. It was as if every decent team in Europe and some from the Americas had discovered my address and were intent on getting in