A World Cup: No Wine, Only Years

A World Cup Postscript

It is only prudent that a postscript be written at the conclusion of the FIFA World Cup 2026, which was hosted in Canada, Mexico, and the United States of America. Unfortunately, England did not bring the cup home after 60 years; rather, it was Spain taking the glory for the second time in 16 years, in both cases not being the hosts.

For all the matches played, I watched only the last two or so minutes of the final. For the other matches, including all of England's games, there was a recurring goal-score notification on my phone, whose provenance I could not verify, that kept me updated, if I cared to look, or if a sprite of curiosity consumed my indifference.

The Weight of Years

The final between Argentina and Spain included a half-time show, and what the passage of time does to us all can be interesting. Madonna, at 67, was playing the part of 27; she was driven onto the field by the Brazilian World Cup winners Ronaldinho and Ronaldo, the latter looking as though he had never been a superstar footballer before.

Age, when it comes to the human body, does not mature it like wine, for we saw Lionel Messi, 39, try to shave a few years off in pursuit of his verve, to no avail, just as it was for Cristiano Ronaldo, 41, of Portugal.

These men were not like Moses of the Bible, who saw God and wrought miracles, and of whom, when he died at 120 years old, it is recorded that "His eyes were not dim nor his natural vigour diminished." One preacher suggested it meant Moses was all there everywhere, including, well, let us not go there.

More Than a Talisman

There were flashes of footballing genius from these two, their teams built around making them shine; but you do not win the World Cup on a talisman.

You need a team of skill and cunning, and Spain, through the whole tournament, conceded only one goal, so much so that the Golden Glove went to their keeper, as did the player of the tournament and the young player awards too.

Controversy, lots of it, was littered throughout the tournament, with referee decisions sometimes favourable to the favourites or downright questionable to the spectator. An intervention from a president even got a red card converted into a suspended sentence in favour of the United States, but it only made their drubbing by Belgium ever so sweet. No fault of the players, but the deathly touch of him; the president was totally unhelpful, in the end.

Knowing When to Bow Out

A profession in sport might have a shelf life, and there can be no greater wisdom than knowing when to bow out in a blaze of glory, rather than find oneself reduced to a global spectacle of human frailty, seeking the elixir of youth for prowess long gone.

We get egged on by the applause, forgetting we are not the person we once were, in strength, in agility, in ability, in facility, or in capacity. We might get close, but that is only how far it gets; we rest on our laurels, hoping for that last-gasp fairy-tale narrative that may or may never happen.

The Final Whistle

This World Cup brought the curtain down on some big names, as we were introduced to new ones. Whilst I am glad it is over, and it is indeed over now, there is no doubt in my mind that the best team won. England came third, and the Golden Boot went to the captain of France, as his team placed fourth.

The spectre of changing the format to a 64-team World Cup, from our first trial of 48 teams, does not bear thinking about; but the FIFA president always has a scheme to secure support for a life presidency by throwing crumbs to the football minnows. Kiribati, lace your boots.

A Gemini Notebook AI Podcast on this blog

RSS Mischief V - The gods with no balls

Mayflower, our nemesis

Traditional school rivalries are inbred, there is rarely an alternative frame of reference that the negative ones so easily begin to define you. Up the road from our Methodist roots Remo Secondary School (RSS) was the humanist strong Mayflower School, Ikenne.

The competition for entry into Mayflower School was stiff that some who attended primary boarding school there did not make the cut and defaulted to RSS.

We seemed to always play the second fiddle to them, in academics and quite evidently in football games. I never knew of a time that we ever beat them, no matter how we tried and that called for extraordinary measures not predicated on our Methodist provenance or the motto of our school, For God and Fatherland.

Pleading to clueless gods

Apparently, the gods, animist, fetish and dreadful had the answer to the nagging big question: How do we defeat Mayflower School at football?

We were woken up by seniors who had consulted oracles and shamans at 1:00 AM and coerced at the threat of violence and severe punishment to contribute funds to procure kurubé (fetish) services of a medicine man to gain advantage of Mayflower School at our next scheduled match.

Why this urgent need could not wait until during the day escaped me, nor did I believe there was any way we could beat Mayflower School without both the luck and the skill, and I was just annoyed that someone was ready to take money from gullible and impressionable students promising something to us that was too farfetched and unreal. Besides, what is to say Mayflower School had not procured similar services and so cancelling the presumed advantage we had purchased?

Snitching for justice

All that together in my mind fired the sense of injustice that led to my writing an anonymous letter about this nonsense and dropping it in the front car seat of the vice principal’s car. They no doubt took it seriously because the principal talked about it the next morning at the school assembly and put out a notice for whoever wrote the letter to come forward without fear of exposure.

Thinking long about it, I visited the principal the next afternoon about the matter, he assured me nothing like this would happen again and the seniors involved will be told off. Then he gave me 5 Naira and send me on my way. For the rest of my time at school, we were no more harassed for fetish seeking contributions and we still lost to Mayflower School anytime we met at the game of football.

Blog - RSS Mischief I - Yikes! A snake

Blog - RSS Mischief II - The fundamentals of fluid mechanics

Blog - RSS Mischief III - Swimming like crabs

Blog - RSS Mischief IV - Post the pots

Better luck next time, England

I feel the pain of defeat

It was the summer of 2010, and I was on holiday from the Netherlands in Spain when the World Cup final taking place in South Africa became the focus of my day. I was in my Oranje (Orange) strip, found a friendly Dutch pub and gathered with fellow supporters to cheer our team.

Alas! The game did not go our way and I was marooned on an island of jollity, many of us Dutch visitors crestfallen and disappointed as the Spanish celebrated through the night. My lonely walk back to my hotel, a lesson in the cloak of defeat.

More expectation than presentation

Whilst I have been quite happy with the progress of England through the belated Euro 2020 tournament, I have tempered excitement with much realism. No game was won until the final whistle was blown, though I only watched the last 10 minutes between England and Germany, and we exorcised the demon on our backs.

In supporting Nigeria and England, the level of anxiety is just too high for me to watch a live match, for the semi-final and the final, I followed the match slightly distracted on the BBC live reporting text webpage, giving it a glance every few minutes and hoping for the best.

Better luck next time

If anything, I have never been caught or enamoured by football nationalism or jingoism, each game had to be played on the field in the heat of the moment by the team eking out a clear win or they are left at the mercy of penalty kicks in which we have had very little luck.

That England got to the final was a commendable surprise, but they were to meet a formidable opponent, the statistics of the game suggests Italy had the most possession for little reward. I dared wish there would be a celebratory outcome, but it would not have mattered apart from my joining in the euphoria of the many.

There would be analyses and commentary regarding England’s performance, but the game is over. There are aspects of managerial leadership that should be up for learning lessons, Gareth Southgate, did a good job of preparing the team for the challenges they faced. I literally sat this tournament out like my 7-month self in 1966 when we won the World Cup. Better luck next time.

Octogenarians fearing a future dominance of F1 by black drivers?

At the crossroads of equity

For much of my writing, whilst I have written about identity and the relative circumstances that confer privilege and opportunity towards my circumstances, I cannot say I have been an activist.

The surge in global protests and activism after the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in May, has agitated people, institutions, companies, organisations, and personalities with sometimes soul-searching introspection instructing positive responses with the promise for change and confounded others with indifference and the absence of awareness as they suggest there is nothing amiss.

Memorials and symbols have been revisited for context and significance, highlighting the plight of minorities around the world with the clamour for equality, equity, justice and fairness.

In certain recent events, I have found a spectrum of representation that had me thinking of how minorities fit in and thrive in host communities, especially at work.

Choosing between activism and presence

In an interview with The Guardian, Michael Emenalo, 55, once the Technical Director for Chelsea Football Club, was the lone black senior executive in the English Premier League. Early in the interview, he surmised about his status and his projection of it. “I had to choose whether I would let my activism be a distraction or allow my presence to be an inspiration.”

[The Guardian: Michael Emenalo: ‘The narrative that white is good has to change’]

This is a concept I fully recognise and can relate to. I cannot say I was a flagbearer in certain positions that I have occupied in my career, but it was significant that other ethnic minorities seeing me in those roles found that their aspirations were not limited. More to the point, we cannot all be activists, sometimes just being at the top table is activism enough.

My primary function was not a human resource component of diversity and inclusion, but I represented it and gave light to opportunities those who saw me could pursue. My professional work spoke for itself even if there were times between being patronised and being belittled, you kept at what you do, and the end result proved how and why you were there.

When silence no more works

Then we have Lewis Hamilton, 35, of a much younger generation and a highly accomplished lone black man in Formula 1 who recently has been championing the need for Formula 1 to be more embracing and inclusive by opening up opportunities to those who might not see a pathway to a career in Formula 1.

His advocacy and activism are prominent whilst not distracting from his professional expertise where he currently leads the driver standings having been 6-time world champion. It goes without saying that few sportsmen have achieved his feat and dominance, not only in the UK but in the world. Yet, it is instructive that many others of lesser achievement and in other sports have been knighted whilst he remains an MBE.

This is not to conflate the global sport with British honours, but you wonder how much further his presence being an inspiration as in the case of Michael Emenalo needs to go for his activism to really attract more ethnic minorities to the sport.

Afflicting the comfortable

This is where two Caucasian veterans of Formula 1 appear to have been ruffled, but starting with Bernie Ecclestone, 89, who used to run Formula 1 when he said in June, "In lots of cases, black people are more racist than what white people are."

[BBC Sport: Lewis Hamilton says Bernie Ecclestone comments on race 'ignorant']

Even if Mr Ecclestone’s viewpoint was anecdotal, it was very unhelpful in addressing the issue of opening up Formula 1 to opportunities for ethnic minorities building up from gathering and scouting raw talent to nurturing them through apprenticeships, internships, and expertise acquisition schemes that would culminate in being able to compete on merit alone for openings in Formula 1.

Next came Mario Andretti, 80, in whose words you could see that Lewis Hamilton had begun to afflict the comfortable. They would rather he was silent than activist, with the hope that either organically or by happenstance the opportunities will just show, but Lewis Hamilton has been a Formula 1 driver since the 2007 season, that’s thirteen years and he remains alone.

“I have a lot of respect for Lewis, but why become a militant? He's always been accepted and he's earned everyone's respect.” Mario Andretti

The big problem they refuse to see

Sir Jackie Stewart, 81, then says he doesn’t think there is a problem. Well, I say, if after 13 years and 6 world championships, the figurehead ethnic minority symbol simply needs to double down on the accelerator of his car without highlighting issues within his sport, that would be unfortunate.

“He's quite vocal about these elements, I don't think there's as big a problem as there might seem.” Sir Jackie Stewart.

[Sky Sports: Lewis Hamilton responds to Mario Andretti, Sir Jackie Stewart comments: 'Just disappointing']

I am glad that Lewis Hamilton is not backing down to this trio of octogenarian symbols of white privilege laying out unforgivable tropes, because essentially, they are saying he should be grateful even though he is in his position by dint of hard work and great ability, and that he is being difficult as he is compelling his sport to radically review how it brings talent to the fore.

Then you have this niggling feeling that there is a foreboding and premonition haunting old white men, perish the thought that Formula 1 might become dominated by black drivers, they had better lament it now before a distant future invades the sanctity of their figurative Tutankhamun pyramids making them turn in their mummified graves.

I leave the last word to Lewis Hamilton from the BBC Sport article referenced earlier on this blog.

“It makes complete sense to me now that nothing was said or done to make our sport more diverse or to address the racial abuse I received throughout my career.

If someone who has run the sport for decades has such a lack of understanding of the deep-rooted issues we as black people deal with every day, how can we expect all the people who work under him to understand? It starts at the top.

Now the time has come for change. I will not stop pushing to create an inclusive future for our sport with equal opportunity for all. To create a world that provides equal opportunity for minorities.”

Observing the subtle racism at black success

Racism touches us all

Racism is a general story and a personal story, the tales I have to regale are many in my almost 30 years of continuous living in Europe. Whether it be in the UK where from when I was beginning to become reacquainted with the land of my birth or on mainland Europe where somewhere between being patronised and being belittled was a covert disrespectfulness you just ignored, you grew a thicker skin.

Racism became a topical issue from the weekend and in football, when the England international and Manchester City footballer, Raheem Sterling, was racially abused at Chelsea Football Club.

Raheem Sterling took to Instagram to give context to how and why racism appears to thrive against young black footballers through the way they are depicted in the mainstream media.

The @BBCNews and @BBCWorld are contributing to the race-baiting that @sterling7 highlighted. He said his teammates "bought houses for their mothers", but Auntie left off the "for their mothers" bit. https://t.co/v9XnMol03U Once again, the black players are painted in poor light.

— Akin Akíntáyọ̀ #FBPE (@forakin) December 10, 2018

Commissions of omissions

He gave the example of how the reportage on two young black football playing colleagues had bought new houses for their mothers, “mothers who have put in a lot of time and love into helping them get where they are,” he said. The press had found a slant to paint these grateful boys in a bad light.

Not long after I had read that post, the BBC was reporting on Raheem Sterling’s Instagram post, quoting the post but incompletely and out of context. The BBC reported the boys had bought houses and left out the positive and mollifying message which was the boys had bought the new houses for their mothers.

That subtle omission of context painted the boys as excessively profligate rather than as endearingly grateful. That was enough to give a platform to forming negative opinions about people who had done some good, but in the reportage were made to look bad.

Jealousy needs no inspiration

It then no surprise that a black footballer as reported by BBC Sport who cannot exculpate themselves from being part of the problem, pulled out of appearing on TalkSport after their coverage of the Raheem Sterling story, for apparently, “former Reading striker Dave Kitson told the station that Sterling had incited ‘jealousy’ by exhibiting a luxury lifestyle on his social media.” [BBC]

Like seriously, a successful young man who happens to be black is exhibiting a luxury lifestyle on his social media? Nothing could be further from the truth, especially with Raheem Sterling.

In my own life, people would be jealous regardless of whether you’re frugal or profligate, the simple fact that you’re successful is enough to accentuate negative feelings, they need no inspiration to be rotten to you, given the opportunity of proximity in the hope to rile you.

We thrive, nonetheless

We have found accommodations or a state of mind, we have no reason to take offence, we ignore them, it is their problem and their headache. At other times, there is a gift of a quick wit, a riposte that sends them back into the crevasses from whence they emerge to glow in our light. Sometimes, it is others who observe the reprehensible and take action at no one’s behest apart from their good-natured disposition and humanity.

We are grateful for good fortune and success in our various fields and long may we have great stories to tell.

However, I leave the last word to one Jonathan Northcroft, the football correspondent for the Sunday Times, “Raheem Sterling represents the type of young black footballer that middle-aged white men of a certain type can’t deal with.”

“Raheem Sterling represents the type of young black footballer that middle aged white men of a certain type can’t deal with” - 🗣Jonathan Northcroft (football correspondent for Sunday Times) @sterling7 pic.twitter.com/ZdqxLgiIvr

— LDNRBS (@LDNRBS) December 11, 2018

Football: A time to mope

Quite downcast

It is the strangest feeling and emotion that words cannot really be found to express. That low, dark, uncommitted and seemingly resigned state of being that holds you down like you’re beneath the water for longer than you could hold your breath until some reflex lets you bob your head out for a death-defying gulp of air and whatever it might contain.

It was the same feeling I had exactly 8 years ago today when I watched the World Cup final between Spain and the Netherlands, in Spain of all places. I was on holiday in Gran Canaria at the time. I found a bar of fellow Hollanders and the football match at one time looked like a wrestling or mixed martial arts match, with my people from the Netherlands playing a game I never expected of them. We lost.

As the Spaniards rejoiced in their conquering of the world of football, I took a slow, sullen, sad stroll back to my hotel, unable to muster a smile or respond to the revelry that surrounded me. That night, I went to bed and dreamt away my sorrows and relapsed back into holiday mode for the nine days left of it.

Each player a team

Today, like any other time England plays, I knew I could not watch the match, just as I can hardly watch Nigeria play. The tension is just too high for me. I was feeling exhausted by the thought of it at noon. I probably should have acted as if I had no dog in this game for the Netherlands were not in it and I had for the last two World Cups donned my orange colours instead of those of my birth country or the country of my heritage.

Nigeria visited the World Cup and basically took away the trophy for the best kit, their performance was all hype and no goals. Eleven brilliant players playing as eleven amazing teams. Which brings to mind the assessment of one foreign coach about Nigeria. They are so disorganised that the disorganisation will upset structured and organised teams, by that alone, they are able to exploit and win games.

The death knell of Nigeria’s foray was already sounded by Croatia in their first match, now, it is Croatia again who have put a stop to that English anthem that I had dreaded would not come true.

Three lions should take a nap

When England sent Sweden home, I curbed my enthusiasm, when everyone including the Queen’s Guard, yes them, decided to play the Three Lions anthem in front of Buckingham Palace on Saturday evening as I tried to miss the excitement of it all by boarding a train for a 2-hour journey.

For all intents and purposes, the Three Lions song, released for Euro 1996 is a good rallying song, but it is almost too hubristic for my liking. To my mind, it is the worst anthem to have if you have not already won the competition for which it is being sung. This for the simple reason that if we fall short, others would find the means to ridicule us beyond the utterly risible and that is never a comfortable place to be.

I would rather I was singing Football’s Coming Home after the England Team captain has his or her mitts on the trophy. Then, we can celebrate and those waiting to make fun of us if we faltered would have no other choice than to join in our celebrations.

Just what I feared

I returned home from work and went to bed, having a few waking moments to check the live text review of the match between Croatia and England, we scored early but never improved on that scoreline, whilst Croatia equalised and then scored the winning goal in the second half of extra time, the god of miraculous football turnaround having gone to sleep, time seeped away like sand emptying to the force of gravity in an hourglass.

We have only pride to play for in the third-place match against a Belgium who have already trounced us once in the final match of the group stage.

It’s nope for us

It is quite likely that France would lift the cup, but Croatia are not pushovers, they can quite easily become the surprise dark horse of this tournament that left Germany, Argentina, Spain, Portugal and Brazil as has-beens. My money was on Belgium, or rather, my hunch was on Belgium, my money stayed in my pocket.

If I had any consolation, England has won the World Cup in my lifetime, albeit, I was only 7 months old. I think this young England team came well beyond our expectations, their temperamental was even, level-headed and focused. They might soon bring a trophy home. There is hope and there is scope, we would cope, given a moment to mope.

Nigeria: To a boy most things are forgiven, but to a man, more is expected

An education without history

As the Germans destroyed the assumed mythical status of Brazilian football with a 7 – 1 rout, we all took to Twitter, sharing wit, puns, jokes and memes, some funny, others not so, but the whole atmosphere was marred by a rather tasteless and ‘stupid’ tweet.

I do not intend to reproduce that tweet here because it reeks of odium unparalleled that words fail me.

Now, the perpetrator is a young and rising star in the Nigerian political system, many of us just between what might be the uncle to the parent age with reference to him have found reasons to commend and respect him for his achievements.

In many cases, we may not have been in agreement, but there has been no reason to be disagreeable, he has always held his official brief well and that is worthy of every recognition.

Looking for mitigating circumstances

Yet, having changed masters from a demur Sports and Youth Federal Minister to one who with the brief of Minister of State of Defence whose supposed education and political experience fails to reflect in his tactless and somewhat undiplomatic screeches on Twitter about terrorism in Nigeria, I fear that some of that doltishness has rubbed off on him.

In an unguarded moment, he tweeted what would not be heard in polite society in Europe for as far as the eye can see and this repugnant phrase has not been heralded in public settings since April 30^th 1945.

Ears are for listening

Immediately, those who cared called it out, and this is where you know a man; one with character, one with principle and dare I say, one with integrity. When a fault or wrong is pointed out, not as a voice of common antagonism, but one of clear reason and reasonableness, you reflect, review and gracefully regret error.

Sadly, he dug in, with obduracy, obstinacy and bewildering stupidity, flailing with bluster and braggadocio as a typical Nigerian politician blown adrift like a rainless cloud because it is not anchored in the realism of truth and facts.

Boy came out of the man

Maybe I am being overly harsh on the boy, because I as a boy, he can be excused many things, a lack of knowledge of history which in a man we would call ignorance, a lack of the ability to reflect, which in a man we would call arrogance, and the inability to say sorry, which in a boy would be a clear sign of immaturity.

Worst still, I would hate to extrapolate this event and suggest that many of the youth that I follow and engage with on many forums are prone to this absentmindedness of the powerful to realise that one does stoop to conquer, that one is wise to know that when in a hole you stop digging and that being regretful and sorry is hardly as sign of weakness, but one of strength, even if it is not obvious to the person involved.

One still hopes

Yet, one of the greater qualities of youthfulness is not one of aging but in the ability to learn, the presence of a teachable spirit and to know that one can change if a path to being better is found.

Yesterday, I tweeted extensively about A Man for All Seasons, the character analysis of Sir Thomas More contrasted with Richard Rich with the somewhat reactionary William Roper in the middle of some very insightful exchanges, the subject like one handed a rope to save himself has pulled towards Rich than towards More.

I close with one of the tweets I posted on the issue. “It is amazing what seemingly inconsequential things show the true integrity and character of a man and it can be so damaging.” It needn’t have needed much commentary; to a boy all is forgiven for out of him might grow a man of all seasons, but to a man, much more is expected lest he be judged a man of no season.

I recommend anyone entering politics or anyone and battling with issues of conscience, duty and allegiance consider watching A Man for All Seasons (Film), on Amazon (DVD) and (Streaming).

World Cup 2014: I am supporting Holland

That Nigerian star of old

For as long as I can remember, probably the earliest was in 1985, the inaugural FIFA U-16 World Championship where out of nowhere Nigeria came tops to take the cup in China.

A very unlike prospect that came second in the group stages and then we took out Hungary, Guinea and West Germany to unexpectedly claim the championship.

This love for Nigerian soccer prowess was rewarded when the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta we took the gold beating Argentina to it – Karma, I say.

On the wane

When the World Cup came to France in 1998, I was going to avail myself of the opportunity and after beating Spain 3 – 2 in Nantes, I was on the coach to Parc des Princes in Paris to was the tension-filled Nigeria v Bulgaria game which we took 1 – 0, only to lose 3 – 1 to Paraguay in Toulouse.

I cannot say I once saw the ball in the stadium on the 19^th of June 1998 but at the end of the match, I had no voice, I had shouted myself hoarse. Much as I would have loved to watch another game, it was an experience of a lifetime ruined by the Nigerian arrangers who for profit treated us too shabbily for words.

Our run in 1998 ended with a 4 – 1 trashing by Denmark in the Srade de France, I don’t think we’ve gotten too far since.

No hope in sight

By 2002, it was Korea/Japan, I was living in the Netherlands, but they were not in it, so I split my allegiances between Nigeria and England, Nigeria did not make it out of the group stage coming last, their best performance being a goalless draw with England. Argentina also came third in that group but England lost to Brazil in the Quarter finals.

The World Cup returned to Europe in 2006, Nigeria did not make to Germany and the Netherlands was out to Portugal in the round of 16 with England losing to Portugal in the Quarter finals that I was left with vacillating opinions in two blogs, both written whilst on holiday in France, the first lamenting our misfortune and the second celebrating the run of the French to the final.

Blog - The World Cup now bores me

Blog - The World Cup now excites me

All Orange, that’s my colour

I donned the Orange strip of the Netherlands when the World Cup came to Africa in 2010, on work days, it was an orange scarf and tie, whilst on other days I had the shirt and face baseball cap. After 10 years of living in the Netherlands and all I had experienced, there was no doubt where I had my football allegiances.

As we danced to Waka Waka (This Time for Africa), none of my thoughts were with Nigeria that came last in their group or England that expired in the round of 16.

I was in Gran Canaria, Spain for holidays when the Quarter finals started and on the 11^th of July, 2010, I found a bar with Dutch supporters and we watched as the game descended in almost farce and in the process Spain won the World Cup.

Dejected and forlorn, I walked back to my hotel unable to acknowledge the celebratory noise of the Spaniards, it was a horrible feeling. But Hey!

Hup! Hup! Holland!

For Brazil 2014, Nigeria of parental descent, England of birth and the Netherlands of experiences are out there doing their stuff. I had already told my friends that the Netherlands would have my support because I believed they would get far and not dash my expectations as Nigeria and England are wont to do.

The Netherlands has already taken the “S” out of Spain with a 5 – 1 bruising defeat of Spain, even I did not expect that pummelling from Holland. England has suffered a defeat from Italy and Nigeria might yet perform against Iran, Bosnia & Herzegovina and Argentina but I am not holding my breath whilst I wish them luck.

For World Cup 2014 it is Hup! Hup! Holland, all the way. That is my team.

Nigeria: #PayKeshi - A minister incapable of shouldering responsibility

Goaded by embarrassment

Nothing gets the Nigerian government of Goodluck Jonathan as agitated to be vituperative in overwhelming defence of their policies than a public embarrassment.

We must agree as they have severally demonstrated; they have no capacity for shame, but embarrassment shines a light into the nooks and crannies of the failings of the system that they close ranks sending out spokespersons to the media and Twitter/Facebook minions onto social media to stem the tide of criticism.

Yesterday, the calumny descended to a new low, quite shamefully contemptible that it left many seething with rage.

A man of distinction humiliated

Stephen Keshi, 51, as the manager of the Nigerian national football team since 2011 has won the Africa Cup of Nations in February 2013 and has successful added Nigeria to the contingent going to the Brazil FIFA World Cup in 2014. [Wikipedia] [Wikipedia]

Despite his successes as a homegrown coach, as at July 2013, he was owed five months’ salary and out of desperation in October he lamented that he was owed seven months’ salary. Some of this has now been paid. [BBC] [Vanguard Nigeria]

These were his words, in October, “The lowest point of my career is working and not being paid for seven to eight months. I have never had this kind of experience before.” [Vanguard Nigeria]

He earlier stressed the point with, “I am not being favoured. Whatever I am doing here, I am doing it with everything I have and I need to be respected and be paid.” [Vanguard Nigeria]

Stephen Keshi was then reacting to comments attributed to the Nigeria Football Federation (NFF formerly the Nigeria Football Association NFA) that allowances and bonuses paid to coaching staff should be enough to sustain them. [Vanguard Nigeria]

A manner of calumny and atrocity

This appeared to embarrass the Minister of Sports, Bolaji Abdullahi, who yesterday upbraided Stephen Keshi for going public with this seriously untenable situation, some quotes from the news story are replicated verbatim below, courtesy of the Vanguard Nigeria newspaper. [Vanguard Nigeria]

“If NFA is having problems paying Keshi’s salary, it means that the system has a problem and that system has to be addressed.”

“When you get a job you do it and you don’t go about embarrassing your employers because your salary is delayed.”

Surely Keshi was right to talk

Nobody is saying the NFA/NFF does not have problems, however, if a performing and successful member of staff to whom the organisation has responsibilities and contractual obligations is not paid for up to 8 months that it becomes a demoralising and destabilising burden that could affect their productivity, there is cause for concern.

It is evident that from Stephen Keshi’s words that he was affected, despite that, he has fulfilled his contractual obligations without quibble, but with dedication and unrivalled patriotism worthy of the highest commendation.

And as the Sport Minister noted, if the NFA/NFF was having problems, it could report up the chain for intervention and resolution, it beggars belief that the NFF/NFA allowed the situation to deteriorate to the point that the coach had no other choice but to vent his spleen – 7 to 8 months with pay is just unspeakable.

A matter of assuming responsibility

This atrocity happened under the watch of the Minister of Sports. He had the choice of expediting the payment of all arrears along with an apology to all the staff owed their emoluments or in this case, for the embarrassment indicated by the failings of the NFA/NFF; he decided to make a villain of Stephen Keshi, a victim of the failed system in his ministry.

That is just shameful and lacking in sensitivity, though it is redolent of a culture of impunity amongst employers in Nigeria who get away with not paying salary on time, if at all with them demanding as in the words of the minister – “you get a job you do it and you don’t go about embarrassing your employers.”

I would say, the employer can avoid the embarrassment and shame by just paying the salaries.

That bill is essential

In conversations I participated in on Twitter, the matter of a third party owing the NFA/NFF sponsorship moneys was brought up. However, this is completely beside the point, a desperately unconscionable way to pass off blame and share the responsibility for what is essentially bureaucracy incompetence, lethargy, the lack of sensitivity and the lack of respect for the hardworking personnel who have brought plaudits and glory to Nigerian sport. [KickOff.com]

If the Workman (Unpaid Wages Prohibition) Bill had been passed through the legislative process to become law, the matter would have been cut-and-dried on the issue of responsibility. [Information Nigeria]

Somebody in the Sports Ministry hierarchy would have borne ultimate responsibility for the contracts and the payment of salaries to staff.

The organisation in the law would have faced a surcharge of up to 30% of two months’ wages for delaying salaries more than 30 days to a maximum of 60 days.

Any salary delays beyond 60 days will attract a 30% compensatory surcharge with the possibility of the employer serving a month in prison.

For Nigerian employees need it

The Minister clearly identified an employer – employee relationship between the coach and the NFA/NFF, a designated person will carry the sanction if imposed by the courts where the contractual obligations of prompt and full salary payments are left wanting.

It goes without saying that Nigeria is desperately in need of this punitive measure and law that protects the rights of employees whilst giving them the means to seek redress through an expedited legal process that provides specific legal guidance as to what is due, fair and just.

The NFA/NFF under the threat of sanction would have done everything possible to meet their obligations and the minister would have had no justification whatsoever to excoriate Stephen Keshi for speaking out for his right to be paid on time, in full, with due respect, courtesy and dignity becoming of an exemplary and hardworking Nigerian of repute and accomplishment.

A real man shares blame and glory

The Sports Minister has the gall to step forward to share in the laurels and the glory of sporting successes of Nigerians who still excel in spite of and despite the incompetence and negligence of the rotten bureaucracy, he heads. Where that system fails, he should unashamedly shoulder the responsibility for the lapses and the atrocities without looking to pass off blame to others.

His statement about Stephen Keshi was at best regrettable much as it was the display of utterly reprehensible conduct.

The humility of accepting blame

Those who have found ways to agree with the minister must for once find the humility in and magnanimous heart to sensitively take full responsibility and sue for justice rather than shirk and dissemble with sophistry.

Beyond this, Stephen Keshi becomes a poster boy for the many millions of Nigerians who have suffered the indignities of slave labour extracted on the forlorn hope of salaries that will never materialise.

I hope the legislature now sees why the passage of the Workman (Unpaid Wages Prohibition) Bill is of the utmost urgency with the case of Stephen Keshi putting a human face to unacceptable business practices in Nigeria.

Nigeria: Football, Age Determination and Record Keeping

Page to age rage

As the FIFA Under-17 World Cup 2013 plays away in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) we find ourselves being ambivalent about the players my other footballing country of Nigeria has fielded. I support England be reason of birth and the Netherlands having lived there for 12 years. [Wikipedia]

We as fans of a football loving country are always taken by the amazing performance of our players, as somewhere in our minds we wonder whether the players are really as young as they state they are.

In 2008, David Moyes, then Everton manager made this comment about Yakubu Aiyegbeni, “He's only 25, albeit a Nigerian 25, and so if that is his age he's still got a good few years ahead of him.” [BBC News]

Whatever he might have been alluding to, he created the perception probably long held that some Nigerian players might well be many years older than the ages presented in their contractual documents.

Age fraud and overwhelming successes

Age fraud in association football is well documented in Africa and Asia, Nigeria was even suspended and sanctioned for fielding over-aged players in certain FIFA tournaments. [Wikipedia]

Nigeria is the most successful team in the U-17 World Cup tournament having been in six finals, winning three, followed by Brazil in five finals, winning two, but we must come to a stage where we are confident that we are playing on a level field without taking advantage of our opponents.

We must be in the eligible age range and what should show is our football talent and prowess in our taking the laurels. This however is not to take away from the successes of teams past and the pride we have in all their victories.

Some science to the rescue

In 2009, FIFA introduced the mandatory use of Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) which apparently has 99% accuracy in determining how old a person is up until the age of 17 after which it is difficult for medical expertise to determine the age that accurately. [BBC Sport]

The MRI system of age determination checks the grade of ossification/fusion in the distal radius [bones at the wrist] where fusion suggests the subject is above the age of 17 and thereby ineligible to compete in the FIFA Under-17 World Cup tournament. [NIH] [BBC Sport]

Courtesy of Wikipedia [Source]

Many African countries first rejected this age determination process, but it is the best science could do for countries that have poor documentation processes that have no proper trust or verification systems to ascertain the provenance or authenticity of birth certificates or declarations. [BBC News]

My scepticism is predicated on whether our kind of physiology is catered for and whether the scanners are calibrated to account to possible racial differences in bone structure, environment, diet and other factors. However, this is the best system we have to rely on now.

A poor record-keeping culture

We do not have proper systems to register life births in hospitals or maternity homes, our municipalities have poor record keeping systems for the registration of births, of marriages and of deaths; beyond which there is no centralised archiving system to maintain such information if acquired.

What we have adopted is a system of swearing affidavits, many of which are taken on self-recognisance given the weight of a notary public and then rubber stamped by the judicial arm of government.

These poor archiving systems permeate all works life; in government, in the private sector and in academia. There was an instance where a PhD holder from a reputable institution in the UK had to present all certificates he had acquired dating back to primary school after a 25-year career, with him approaching 50 to take up an appointment in Nigeria.

I dare say that white Africans are far ahead on the record keeping and documentation front; in another world, they would probably be able to produce enough documentary evidence to lay claim to anything even if acquired fraudulently by their forebears.

The fun in record keeping

I watch programmes on British television like "Who Do You Think You Are?" and I am always impressed with how researchers could trawl through archives going back centuries to piece together genealogies, ancestries and histories. We probably have just the adulterated and sometimes exaggerated or fabled oral histories to go by – we need to pay more heed to record keeping and documentation.

The idea that our sports ambassadors have to be herded like cattle through MRI scan turnstiles to determine the ages of the participants is degrading enough, if not disgraceful, but we brought this ignominious exercise upon ourselves.

We must address this now

The FIFA U-16 World Championship founded in 1985 and then renamed to FIFA U-17 World Cup has been running for 28 years. We should have learnt the lessons by now to ensure any new entrants to the competition have a good paper trail of birth certificates, medical histories, school reports and other supporting documentation not to have to suffer the indignities of an MRI scan.

This must be integral to our health policy, our education policy and other population census documentation and government planning policies. We need to get to a stage where the writing on any document emerging from our countries is worth the paper it is written on and accepted as authentic by any verification or certification organisation anywhere in the world.

Nigeria: Taking Football to the Realm of the Superhuman

Records for the cooks

When I read of the amazing football match results in Nigeria, I was disappointed at the negative reaction that followed the issue; match-fixing allegations, suspensions and disbandment have followed, that is rather unfortunate.

Let us look at the issue more closely, the winning teams, Plateau United Feeders and Police Machine FC which scored 79 and 67 goals respectively.

Even Tahiti against the best

I see ‘Feeders’ and ‘Machine’ in their names and I am led to believe they are capable of that feat. For instance, at the recently concluded FIFA Confederations Cup in Brazil, we all eventually found out where a nation called Tahiti was, they conceded 24 goals in 3 matches having played Nigeria – the African champions, Uruguay – a two-time World Cup winning nation and current Copa América holders and Spain – the current European and World Cup champions.

For all the talent and ability of these able global football power houses, Nigeria managed only 6 goals conceding 1, Spain knocked in a paltry 10 and Uruguay knocked in a mere 8 both conceding none.

Feeders and Machine alike

In the first half of the games, the Feeders scored 7 and the Police Machine scored 6, probably no mean feat, but the second half of the games must be for the record books.

As it stacks up, it means the Feeders scored 72 goals in 45 minutes, that is a goal every 37.5 seconds, the Police Machine were not as prolific but close with 61 goals in 45 minutes, a goal every 44.2 seconds.

Now, I am no football expert, but the efficiency with which these football matches were conducted must reward the referees with accolades and the players of the winning teams with citations of amazing prowess.

Imagine the time it takes to score a goal, retrieve the ball, sent it to the centre and kick-off again before another goal is scored and my imagination suggests the players will be moving too fast for the normal human eye to keep up with – these are super-human feats.

Give them a contract

If I were a football scout, I will be making serious enquiries about these men, you only have to get the ball to their feet and the rest is football poetry never ever written before, unseen dribbles that leave opponents minutes behind a pass that the game is over long before it has begun – I cannot understand the opprobrium.

I am saddened by the knee-jerk reaction of the Nigerian Football Federation (NFF), as the spokesperson said, "It is unacceptable - a scandal of huge proportions." Honestly, I say to Muke Umeh, Calm down! Let us not make a scandal out of a feat of amazing and commendable human ability that is deserving of recognition and reward – they have taken football out of the reach of mere mortals – that is to be celebrated.

The best of football, ever

Obviously, one does feel for the losing teams, I am sure both Akurba FC and Bubayaro FC (now disbanded) acquitted themselves well even if the score line seems to suggest they were worse than lame in the field of play, I say they were overwhelmed by technical ability, finesse and superior football – these are men who by their great achievement should belong to the World XI in any competition worth its salt.

To the men who will put Pele, Maradona and Messi combined in the shade, I commend the prolific talents of the guys who scored for Plateau United Feeders and Police Machine FC.

Thought Picnic: Never Say Never

A patriotic rip-off

Fourteen years ago during the World Cup in France, we engaged the services of a Nigerian agent to facilitate travel, tickets and accommodation to watch Nigeria play Bulgaria at Parc des Princes in Paris. It was Nigeria’s second match after our shock defeat of Spain which then had the legendary Luis Enrique as their playmaker.

We probably paid through the nose for that service, I paid for my cousin and I and it was just a shade short of a GBP 1,000 – it did not matter, we were going to have patriotic fun like we’ve never done before.

Just late enough

We set off from London on the long bus journey, taking the Chunnel Tunnel that left many of us literally seasick because there was no horizon or frame of reference for our movement even though we knew were moving.

We got to the stadium just after the national anthems but just in time to watch the kick-off, the moment was electric. I cannot say I once saw where the ball was on the field but when we scored in the first-half we had the game in hand and our hearts in our mouths until the end of that game.

Sadly, I failed to record memories of that event because my camera gave up the ghost within the first 10 minutes of the game starting and by the end, I had lost my voice.

No stars here

That was just the beginning of our odyssey; we got back on the bus to go our hotel where we were to have a Nigerian food splayed out in celebration and jollity – it never happened, we got lost for over 2 hours searching for the hotel, we were literally worn out.

Then we got to the hotel and it was difficult to find words to describe the fact that our countryman business people in the quest to maximise their profits had landed us in a place too cheap for the humblest person not to be haughty.

The rooms had bunk beds I had not seen since I left secondary school almost 20 years before, the shower room was a squeeze that literally had the toilet for the drain and amongst us were professionals and some who had travelled all the way from Nigeria only to be greeted with contempt, insult, injury and disdainful abuse – it was atrocious.

We are done with this

We were at a place called Fontenay-sous-Bois [French], just to the east of Paris in what could not have the grade of a 1* hotel at best.

Three of us decided we were not going to stand for this, called a taxi and drove into the centre of Paris where we found better lodgings, service and access to the city proper with a lesson that I learnt too well for a long time.

I swore never to do business with a Nigerian again and cancelled the plan to attend the match between Nigeria and Paraguay in Toulouse.

Will I ever?

Besides that, I would never have thought I would ever for any reason find myself in Fontenay-sous-Bois again after that unfortunate experience, but today, I find myself in an office in the middle of that small town that made me remember that old nursery rhyme.

Doctor Foster,
Went to Gloucester,
In a shower of rain.

He fell in a puddle,
Right up to his middle,
And never went there again.

I might have sworn to never ever but now I know never ever to say never again.