The day didn’t start as planned. I was in the midst of an economical brouhaha between two business friends, or what we can call partners for profits.
Planned meetings with an English and a French didn’t happen but i had a date with a soup. Not the European soups but one of the Nigerian soups – Ogbono. Guess who was my host? Emeka.
Yet again, Emeka played host to me. The swallow was alright and my bowels rejoiced at the ingenuity of the Ogbono soup. It was different but unique. The meal occupied space and made the legion at rest. A quick nap and it was Red Square time.
We headed off to the Red Square to watch the Media Games. I was interested in just seeing Fisayo and wondering if he got the boots to feature for the Africa/Middle East team.
It was a reunion with the ACL Sports chief, a month after we met in Port Harcourt. I was appointed the official team photographer and supporter. Based on the appointment, I got into the arena.
The spirit of Arsene Wenger fell on me as I jogged into the arena. We had a large team. It was a 6-a-sise game and I can’t remember if I chose the starting 6 or they chose themselves. Grin.
Nevertheless, I was in charge of substitution and reading the game – my glasses were on. I dished out instructions from the sidelines. We conceded first after the Cameroonian goalie tried to dribble an attacker but the water bottle close to me didn’t suffer like Wenger does. I unwrapped a chocolate gift by some Croats who stopped us for a selfie.
We came from 1-0 down to win 3-2. You know Wenger loves come backs. My team had Fisayo, Richard, Sylvain, Garry, Ali, Nzima and many others. How do coaches manage such large team? One of them was so stiff in the game but he refused to be subbed. I just bench the guy for second half.
After the game, I got my present – a World Cup. I plan to present it to the president on behalf of Mikel. Do you remember the promise? Haters will say it is a water bottle.
We went shopping. Sadly, Moscow is expensive. Very expensive. Fisayo got his recharge, Emeka got his goodies, Jennifer couldn’t get the jackets and I got nothing other than the satisfaction of window shopping. I can’t shout biko.
We rested our tired legs, convinced Jennifer to use the Metro and watched as the Moscow night drew near. We went underground and escorted Jennifer to her place.
I got home just before midnight with my legs begging for a rest. I got chicken kebab on my way home. I flushed it down with 2 cups of orange juice.
My day was done. What a day!!