The Shot Of Irony

     I could feel the excitement in the air. The girls were out to see their heroes. The cheers were getting louder by the minute. The tension was too much for me to handle. The referee was pacing up and down waiting for the other team to be ready for this crunch tie. An old rivalry was about to be rekindled and the spectators seemed impatient. It was the prestigious Inter-House Junior soccer competition and I was out on the field to represent my house, Honesty house. Clad in blue, we could easily have been described as the most inconsistent team in the tournament consisting of three other teams; Unity House, Punctuality House and Perseverance House. The fixture though was a bit favourable for us because even though Unity house was a difficult team to beat, they were the easiest opponents to face in this straight knockout tournament.

     I had quite a reputation for playing the kind of mature football that my stature seemed not to suggest. In the previous year’s competition, our coach had reluctantly put me into a game against Punctuality House after much objection only to be left shell-shocked by my display. Losing by four goals to nil, I got into the game and laid on two goals for a teammate, Edohan before our comeback was effectively snuffed out by a fifth goal. This time around though, my coach needed no soothsayer to tell him how invaluable I could sometimes be to my team. I was a sure starter. However much the hype around me was, all I sought to achieve in this tournament was just a goal, a goal that would ensure that my name would be typed in the school magazine at the end of the year as a goal scorer when the competition was reviewed.

     The referee blew his whistle and the game was on. Anxiety overwhelmed me and I could not impose myself on the game. If anything, I was playing absolute rubbish. That notwithstanding, I did have my chance to score. A howler in defence by our opponents ensured the ball fell to me in a position every striker prays to get the ball in but unfortunately, in my haste and with the school magazine suddenly flashing before my eyes like a bolt of lightning, I anxiously contrived to hit a very tame shot. In the process of hitting the shot, a pang of pain went through to my brain from my preferred right foot and through my spine. I screamed in disgust, looked immediately at the source of the pain and I saw the injury I thought would end my participation in the tournament. Unknown to me, it was my blessing in disguise.

     I shrugged off the disappointment of the injury and went on with the game as though it was just a scratch. Deep down, I knew this injury was a bit serious but I could not let anything get in the way of my school magazine dream. By the end of the game, the scores were level at one goal apiece and the rules stated clearly that penalties were the next thing. I was picked to take the third penalty which I luckily converted. In the end, we won and we were through to the finals. This though was where my own journey began, the events that were to unfold surprised even me and helped etch my name into the minds of so many people.

     The final was in three days and I had only the weekend to recover from my injury. I expected the injury to heal within two days which would give me a day to train and prepare. I was wrong in my estimation by a mile because that injury lasted close to eight months! At the time though, I was very frustrated with the injury and I shed tears sometimes from the unbearable pain that I felt. The real problem for me then was that my left leg was nowhere near being my preferred foot and I could not imagine playing a competition final with it. Looking back now, I realise that I need not have worried. I was about to surprise myself in a way that I never thought possible. In preparation, I forced myself to learn to use my weaker foot but even at the tail end of my preparation, my ability with my weaker foot was not close to what my right leg was capable of. Unknown to me, my left foot was about to give me that advantage of unpredictability since everyone thought I could not use it. What they did not know, however, was that I was somewhat ambidextous. We were about to face the previous year’s runners-up Perseverance House in the final. My best friend was the one who kept me believing that we could actually win that game because I honestly did not think we could win considering the disparity in quality and size of their team and our team. That though was not enough reason for us not to show up for the final for we had pride to play for. Therefore, we turned up and acted as though we were sure our opponents would be no match for us.

     The events of that fateful Monday afternoon are still fresh in my memory till this day. The venue was packed with so many people, male and female, most of whom expected a walkover for Perseverance House. Only few people like my sister dared to expect a close game or even a victory for us. These people though would not even have had the courage to place a bet on our heads even with their pens as collateral! The game was about to start and only my best friend knew that I was nursing a serious injury that could affect my play and in the long run, affect me. The game started and as expected, Perseverance dominated the early exchanges and took control of the game. Within a few minutes, they had taken the lead and it looked like the predictions before the game were going to be accurate. A neat interplay of passes and a solid finish from their very impressive striker made our whole team look like anything less than amateurs that we were. After that goal, the game dragged on and I was clearly struggling. For a while, it looked as though all the hype about me was just some exaggerated talk. However, getting my name into the school magazine seemed to be the more prominent thought in my mind. A few minutes before halftime, my moment finally arrived. I stole the ball from a defender and before he could recover, I was one on one with the goalkeeper. The school magazine flashed before me again and I could see the letters of my name boldly written. I slotted the ball into the back of the net before I got lost daydreaming. As though a shot of adrenaline had been pumped into my blood, I ran off to celebrate. Unknown to most people even to this day, I celebrated that goal because I was going to have my name in the school magazine and not because I had equalised. All the same, the scores were level going into the half time interval.

     Adrenaline as I know it does not remain for the duration of the full second half of a game but for me, the Adrenaline kept coming. As our coach spoke to us, I was inspired and could not wait to get back onto the pitch. The referee’s whistle to recall the two teams back onto field was like music to my ears. I jogged onto the field with renewed enthusiasm for what was about to become a classic second half duel for both teams. As the second half started, my mind went back to my primary school days and the song that always inspired our team as sang by our chief cheerleader, a close friend of mine. At this stage, I was bringing back into my head everything that drove me in football. I pretended she was there to watch me again. That day, I played like a truly passionate warrior who was ready to die for a cause he believed in. First, they scored three goals in quick succession and the scores were four goals to one. At that point, it seemed hopeless to everyone but not Edohan and I. The difference came when after a one-two interplay with one of my teammates, I found myself at the by-line. Two opponents came to get the ball from me but I took them on. After going through them like a ghost even though I used my weaker left foot, I was free and perhaps could have scored but as all eyes were turned towards me and all my opponents were focussed on me while running towards me, I squared the ball for the unmarked Edohan who could not miss. GOAL!!! We were back! Amazingly, the crowd went crazy with excitement and invaded the pitch towards one little boy, me. I was carried high in the air and everyone seemed to abandon the goal scorer! After a time, order was restored and the spectators took their seats expecting more. They were not to be disappointed as I was at it again. I received a pass from midfield, dummied a defender to free up space and unleashed a stinging shot with my injured and now bloodied right foot . GOAL!!! My opponents were confused because by that time, they had come to expect that I would use my left foot. They had seen the injury on my right foot and nobody could have expected me to risk getting my horrific injury to a worse state. The crowd roared as everyone seemed to be supporting us. However, just when we were beginning to believe especially after bringing scores to four goals to three, their exquisite striker slotted in a goal that would prove to be a dagger in our hearts. At five goals to three and just a few minutes to go, our spirits were downed. Just as the game was about to come to an end, I provided yet another assist for Edohan to score again. At this stage, it was too little too late and the final whistle was blown. We had lost the final albeit gallantly. Our opponents ran all over the place to celebrate and I, the one who didn’t expect anything less than a hammering from our more illustrious opponents, was devastated. I had genuine reasons to be sad. First, despite my efforts, we lost the game that we had been so close to coming back into. Also, my leg was bleeding from the ordeal I had put it through. The pain was unbearable. My efforts though did not go unnoticed and I had sacrificed my bleeding leg for a good cause.

“Ifeanyi! Ifeanyi! Where are you?”

“What is it Kenny? I’m in here.”

“You would not believe what I just saw on the notice board about you.”

“What did you see?”

“I can’t tell you because I’m so jealous right now! Let’s go, I’m so happy for you!”

     I stared blankly at the notice board for I could not believe my eyes. Little ‘Clinton Ifeanyi McDubus’ had been named Most Valuable Player of the tournament. Instead of being mentioned as just another player who managed only a goal in the school magazine, I was to be mentioned as scorer of two goals and given a special spot in the school magazine as the Best Player in the Junior Soccer tournament. I was overwhelmed with excitement and I stared at my battered foot while remembering the shot that ironically led me to an Award so prestigious. My injury lasted another eight months and the pain was at times unbearable but I persevered and coped through it since because of it, I had been inspired enough to perform so well as to end up the best player in that tournament and I learnt to use my left foot too seeing I had no other option. That shot which led to my injury ultimately became the inspiration I needed to excel, my shot of Irony!