by M Koleosho
competition, I knew the award would boil down to whoever had more accolades at the end of the season.
I ate, slept and breathe football that year. My obsession for perfection was scary. I channeled everything I had into being the best I could be on the field of play. I cut down all my distractions, devoting most of my time to the game and if not for contractual obligations I probably would have done without attending any social events that season. My PR crew was worried I would piss off my sponsors, but I could care less what they thought. My sights were set on winning and proving to the world I was no second fiddle to Kanewa. My mother was worried at how much I was alienating myself from others, but even she couldn’t understand just how focused I was on the task at hand.
The results paid off as I excelled that year and in turn, so did Milan. Yet despite it being my best year on the field of play, Kanewa was right there breathing down my neck. Whenever I tried to shrug him off, he only came back stronger, and soon the doubts started creeping in.
What if we couldn’t beat Juventus (and by this point of the season, we were going to have to face them in all competitions we were in to reach our goal)? What if Kanewa won the Ballon D’Or again? Would that effectively doom my chances of ever winning it again? I was giving my all, yet he seemed to have no trouble keeping up, and the scary part, was that he was getting better. As the seeds of doubt were growing within me, it began to affect my play. Decisions I normally took without second guessing myself now began to bother me. I was not as effective as I normally would and my play began to falter.
As I saw my play dwindle and my chances of winning it all slip out of my grasp, I and the sports world would be dealt a blow that would change the outcome of every major soccer event that year.
Like I said previously, the doubts had slipped in, and were trying to stake out territory in my mind. Fortunately for me and unfortunate for my insecurities, I am a professional first and foremost, I might slip up but I never remain down for long.
Thankfully by the time I was able to dispel most of my worries, Milan had not suffered for it. My teammates had stepped up in my absence and we were still challenging Juventus on all fronts. Sadly the same could not be said for my rivalry with Kanewa. In the short span of me being off my game, he had capitalized and was now leading me by as much as 7 goals in the Serie A and 10 goals in all competitions. I had no one to blame but myself.
There were still a lot of games to be played but even I knew to knock Kanewa off his perch, my team would have to win more trophies than his. Little did I know that exactly one week from then, Kanewa would be taken out of the picture, leaving the path to the Ballon D’Or wide open for me.
Said event was supposed to be just another game for Juventus. In fact at the time of the occurrence, they were up three goals with about fifteen minutes to go. Many in the media would question why the coach left his star player in the game after such a comfortable lead.
Many fans would ask for him to be fired thinking he jeopardized their season. I seem to think cooler heads should have prevailed as no one could have predicted what would happen during that game.
Juventus were with the ball and were quickly advancing up the field; they had the numbers and were sprinting down the field as quickly as possible. The ball was swiftly passed to Kanewa who was the fastest player on the pitch. The crowd cheered as they sensed another goal was coming; there was only one defender in front of him and the goalie. All Kanewa had to do was sidestep him and he’d be clean through. What he wasn’t expecting was the defender to lunge, Kanewa tried to jump to avoid the tackle but he was too slow, boots connected with his upper ankle, the force carrying the defender being too strong. The rest is too ghastly to properly describe. Imagine trying to bend a tooth pick and after futile resistance it snaps back. That is all I will say about the injury. I wasn’t even in the game and I cried when I saw the TV replays. It was truly one of the saddest scenes I have ever seen in my life.
We were all reeling from Shinji’s injury. I imagine there was no one who called themselves a soccer fan that had not heard or seen what happened to him. It sent shock waves through the sports world, especially when it was reported that he had broken his leg in two places. He would be out for at least a year, effectively wrapping up his current season and perhaps the next.
Alas, one man’s tragedy is another’s redemption. Where one journey ends, another begins. I had been in a slump up to that point, but his injury seemed to have propelled me to quell my doubts. I felt somewhere in my mind that I had to step up now that Kanewa was out. The game needed someone to step into the vacuum created by Shinji’s absence and I was the only one who could rightfully do so. Sure there were other great players in our sport, but Kanewa and I were rightfully seen as 1a and 1b. If there was anyone that could do a good job of coming close to his type of production, it would most likely be me.
At first I must admit, his absence spurred me out of whatever slump I was in and my production spiked; churning out goals and doing my best to help my team advance in all competitions we were in. I was the clear cut choice for Ballon D’Or now, but a segment of fans and the media were not so subtle in their assertion that I could not have won it without Kanewa going down. I tried to ignore it, but the seeds of doubt don’t have to germinate immediately, give it time and watch as they come into full bloom.
The season progressed, Juventus our counterparts though a strong team without Kanewa simply could not keep up with us. We beat them in our remaining match ups and established our dominance in Italy once again, but interestingly enough, whereas I should have been elated with our prospects, those wins felt hollow to me. Those seeds I had mentioned earlier were finally growing.
Winning should quell all doubts, but instead, mine seemed to persist. An annoying, nagging feeling that I was only succeeding because my rival was out. As much as I tried to convince myself that I had been doing well long before Kanewa had popped up on the scene, it did nothing to put away these thoughts. I had returned to being soccer’s golden boy, yet it felt so vacuous.
These people had begrudgingly let me into their hearts once more, mostly because the guy that had filled that role was recuperating in some hospital.
I was the inconvenient place holder, only on the throne because the current king was absent. I hated the feeling of second guessing every achievement. Questioning every accolade, wondering if I was truly deserving or not.
I started to hate Kanewa. Not the person, but the media construct. He was the cause of a lot of my mental woes. Even when he was recuperating in a hospital God knows where, this little terror was having a field day with my thoughts.
It wasn’t until a meeting with my old coach Manuel that I was able to drop all the baggage I was lugging around in my mind.
I did win the Ballon D’Or that year. Surprisingly enough it was pretty close as Kanewa still got a sizable amount of votes despite his injury. It only goes to show how much respect he had in soccer circles.
I realize I will always be second guessed about winning that award, but I will not let that stain my achievements. Milan won both the European cup and our domestic league; it was not like we didn’t prove ourselves on the big stage.
It was beginning to dawn on me that I was firmly in Kanewa’s shadow. The more I tried to break away, the more it seemed to envelope me. The sad part was I had also imposed some of this on myself. The Kanewa boogeyman construct was doing a good job on my mind.
One event that will be firmly seared in my memory was what has been dubbed as ‘the meltdown’. I am not proud of that moment but looking back, it was what was needed for Manuel to intervene.
We had just finished a match which we had lost. As usual, players were presented to the media to answer questions. It was a game I felt we should have won, especially since it was rife with dubious officiating. I was already peeved by the outcome of the game and wasn’t in any mood to be answering questions but since it was customary we do so after every game, I couldn’t avoid it.
The usu
al sets of questions ensued, basically trying to get us to admit we played poorly and could have done better. One particular guy though kept badgering, and it was becoming increasingly clear he had an agenda. Eventually I lost my cool when he implied that I was coasting because Kanewa was no longer in the picture and had no competition for the top individual awards. I had never been that livid before, but anyone in that room will testify to just how enraged I was. I yelled back at him, berating him and anyone in the media questioning my desire. This whole thing transpired in the span of a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Soon it was all over sports media and the Internet. Memes and gifs of that breakdown would flood message boards and social networks. My one moment of madness had been immortalized by technology.
Ironically, that slip up of mine seemed to gain me more fans. In that period of my losing it, they saw a guy who was passionate about winning and it galvanized them to support me.
All of a sudden, the guys who thought I was taking advantage of Kanewa’s absence started seeing me in a new light; and whilst it’s impossible to convince everyone out there that I cared deeply about the sport, I was able to peel off some of my skeptics onto my side.
The other positive