STORY OF MY LIFE: I hate football

"I hate football"
"Where do I go from here?"

27th May 2009, a day that ruins my dream:

Sports for me is a magical piece created by nature to unite an already divided world. It has been a major source of inspiration, entertainment and happiness to many people around the world, but my story is different, or should I say nature hate me?

As a Manchester United fan, on the aforementioned day, I woke up all excited that my club would surely lay their hands on the prestigious UEFA Champions League trophy for the fourth time after winning Chelsea in the final of the same competition the previous year
.

As my culture is, I have been preparing for this match by making sure I make mum happy, do my chores in time to avoid a clash when the match kicks off.

Unfortunately, nature chose to fight me to hell: As a boy still staying with my parents, I was sent on an errand that evening to deliver the sum of N20,000 to my mother's customer.

The puzzle is, if I deliver this money as directed I would miss the opening ceremony which is a crucial part of the UEFA Champions League final;
I would also miss the goosebumps that come with the UEFA Champions League anthem. Hence, I decided to see the game, before delivering the money.

Sir Alex Ferguson's Manchester United faces Pep Guardiola's FC Barcelona. A match made in heaven. As someone who loves tactical play, I could not wait for it.

I got to the viewing centre early with a small polythene bag that had the money I was to deliver. I carefully placed it on my lap to avoid stories.

Samuel Eto scored first by toepoking the ball away from Edwin Vandersar who was helpless and could not stop Barcelona's first goal.

From that minute, I started imagining what my fate would be if Manchester United lose; my friends would laugh at me in school, I was already scared, but in " football everything is possible". I had hope.

Second half surfaces with United still struggling to come back. The room was really noisy because of rival fans who were still chanting in trust that Barcelona wins.

The moment that brought tears to my face was when Lionel Messi sprung to head 20 minutes from the end to climax my pain.

Immediately he scored the goal, I forgot everything I was supposed to do after the game, including my polythene bag.

After the ceremonial trophy presentation, I left with tears. On getting to the house, mum asked if I did what she directed me to. " Oh my God", I ran out of the house, got to the viewing centre, my bag was nowhere to be found.

When I returned home, mum gave me the beating of my life.

In the end, my team lost
I lost mum's money.
I was depressed to the extent that I could not go to school to take my math test the following day. As we all know, without passing maths in secondary school, you cannot be promoted. Hence, I had to repeat the class. I lost everything. The only thing on my DEPRESSED mind was these phrases:

"I hate football"
"Where do I go from here?"

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