World Cup matches are mental monuments. They bring back the past, lost, stored and buried.
Nigeria played Spain. Watching it again resurrected 1998
I saw Louis Enrique kick Okocha. Jay Jay was rubbing salt into injury with his dribbles. Louis Enrique was just a boy.
I saw the jerseys of 1998 again. They were all oversized, baggy shorts and baggy shirts. I remember when Cameroun introduced body hugs.
There was the thrilling arrogance of Celestine Babayaro on the left and Okocha in the middle. They reminded me of Warawara’s Likita and her imperiousness, those days.
Then I relived the hardwork and tenacity of Mobi opraku and Taribo West. I saw them frustrate the legendary Raul. They are looked so young.
I had watched that match live in a quiet hotel in Ibadan. Nigeria were unlikely winners over tournament favorite, Spain. That Ibadan trip was eventful.
But the brain keeps nothing.
Bora Multivitamin ! as Nigerians loved to call him. Everything he wore was twice his size including his eyes glasses.
Uche Okechukwu was captain. Garba Lawal was there on the left flank. He scored the fluke goal. Nigerian Football Supporters Club was there. That was 2 years after I left the club.
1998! 20 whole years. The
world is coming to a quick end. It’s frightening.