Travelling with the Super Eagles can be fun. They excite one with the delusion that they are doing Nigerians a big favour. They think they are super beings and consider others as leaches, who must quickly be blown out like catarrh in the nostrils. Their swagger irritates largely because they hardly can fill the immigration forms unguided.
Little wonder, the fans don’t flock around them. Elsewhere, the convergence of stars attracts lovers of the game to them. Soccer freaks cherish such moments, taking pictures, getting autographs and, possibly having some souvenirs. Not so for the Super Eagles; they treat their fans like the plague.
Going to Liberia on Friday morning threw up the best opportunity for the players to change their ways towards others. Not so for these bunch, like the folks before them.
You will expect that such early morning movement will elicit greetings from the young men when they see elders. No way! Instead, they block their ear-drums, pretending to be listening to music, Yet will acknowledge greetings from one another. In fact, we had a good laugh watching them, their ear phones on, chatting. It is evident that this is the Eagles subtle way of shunning people.
As we boarded the chartered IRS aircraft, the players, officials, high ranking government functionaries, including Senators, House of Representatives and NFF Board members were instructed to lead the way. Others boarded after them. But it was inside the aircraft that this distasteful scenario happened.
An elderly member of the Nigeria Football Supporters Club was shocked at the way a top Eagles star refused to allow him sit beside him.
Having boarded the aircraft earlier, the star sat at the aisle, spreading his legs majestically. Not even the friendly tap from this elderly supporter could sway the chap. As the elderly one walked towards the inner row, he muttered inaudible words. My heart sank. Another supporter walked towards another Eagles star who sat alone, asking to sit beside him; he refused. I couldn’t stomach this because the airline officials had done a head count and knew the number of vacant seats. I beckoned on one of the airline officials who intervened. Guess what? The irritant chose to sit with another mate, who sat alone in one of the two- seaters. Unwittingly, the aircraft had been fouled by bad blood. Soon, the aircraft was in the skies, flying its two hours 45 minutes course.
With 18 aeronautical miles to the Roberts International Airport in Liberia, the pilot informed us of a final descent, urging us to look towards the left to admire the Atlantic Ocean and its amazing waves.
Then the spectacle for those who have been there would be a smile. In three minutes, the aircraft roared as if it was taking a plunge into the ocean, a big sigh sprang out from the hitherto snoring aircraft of over 93people. Soon, the aircraft found its length on the runway, spending much of 12 minutes flying low on the Atlantic.
Then the panic. AIT’s Wale spoke the mind of many panic-stricken passengers when he said in Yoruba: “Se airplane fe we ninu odo n i(Does the aircraft want to swim?) Then smiles and backslapping as the pilot put the aircraft on the runway to roll to a gradual halt on its tyres.
It was drizzling. There was some turbulence before the final descent. (We were forewarned by the pilot).
Having walked through immigration, I went straight to the elderly supporter to plead with him. Once I raised the issue, his face got winked, but my friend broke into a reluctant smile as I teased him with his favourite song. Before then, he had said in Yoruba: Ade, ori nkan timori. Boy yen o nisorire. (Ade, did you see what I saw? That boy won’t do well), he sighed heavily.
The elderly supporter later withdrew the curse. When the game began, the irritant was one of the culprits who ruined our victory dance. As he fumbled, my mind went to the
