Football Fanatic

By

Obododimma Oha

There  was a time that I was not just a football fan of a particular club but a fanatic. You dared not say anything negative about the club in my presence or I would descend harshly on you. And you would regret your life and having come across someone like me. The club would be playing a match thousands of miles away and my sharp tongue would be looking for whom to slash his or her throat. I was the real defender of the goal mouth, although the referee did not know me! 

I know that some people are as I was. A match is going on thousands of miles away and they are in a liquor place looking for someone's head to break with a beer bottle. They can even strip naked if a goal is scored by their club or kick their neighbors as the football. At home, let one idiot change the television channel and that fellow would get a dirty slap. A loving husband or father turns to a terrorist defending his clubside that is playing faraway. Nobody should talk of food in the house or new school uniform for junior, unless that fellow wants a good fight!

These days, if my legs are used as goal post, I open them wider when the ball is coming. Let the ball enter the goal mouth fast. What is my business? But what must have happened?

Maybe it was about thinking, an opportunity to think and to think about what one did. Is that emotional intelligence? Experts explore the possibility. Well, in my case, I was a poor student residing off-campus and barely "managing". It was about the stomach. One had to give few things to the stomach and advise it to tell one's brain to be calm, to function. So, I was that poor student cooking something that afternoon but I was also a football fanatic and my clubside was playing thousands of miles away. I shared my time between cooking something and being close my radio set.

I didn't hope for any stupid visit and no one visited. I was glad for that.

The voice of the commentator almost gave me high blood pressure but I was able to survive. Thank God. But one terrible thing happened : my club lost the match! There was nobody in my room to whom I could transfer my aggression. Truly, my afternoon was greatly ruined!

Did I remember what I was cooking? That could go to hell. In fact, hellish hell. I left the room. I didn't even remember to lock it. I was on fire. You could have seen my face. I looked terrible. Wise people who saw it needed to avoid me.

I walked round and round. No destination. Maybe that did me some good, for when I returned to my room, I became a human being again. But my food, my something? It was terribly burnt! No one in the right senses would eat that kind of thing. My anger almost returned. But it was my fault, not the fault of the club that won or the fault of the fans.

If you know what students like me face when it comes to feeding everyday, you would understand. As the Americans say, "I was in a deep shit and I knew it. That burnt something could have helped me for three days, but now it wouldn't even for a day!

I had to starve for days, yawning endlessly. Who is talking of reading books? I just didn't want to upset my brain. So, I avoided books and reading.

I listened to the Christian religious music of Chigbo recently. He said in a track that one mad man pointed out that why mad people were not making any progress was that madness was of various types. After going hungry for days, I had to think.

I realized that it was not the fault of the club that won the match. After all, they came to win. And even prayed for it! It was not the fault of the supporters either. I was the one that allowed my something to burn. Did the club leave their something to burn too simply because they lost a match? Did they know that I even existed? It was silly to allow my something to burn.

I was ashamed of myself. I started thinking seriously. What if someone had witnessed my attitude? What if someone had seen how I allowed my something to burn? What if and what if?

It was Woodrow Wilson who wrote that wonderful text, *When a Man Comes to Himself*. You should read Wilson. Let me not just report him and report him badly. Just read the text. 

I have come back to myself. Maybe I have done  it badly again. But, as I said earlier, if my legs are used now for goal post, I would make the goal mouth wider if the ball is approaching and allow the ball to kiss the net.