Soccer SuperFans

By: Adaora Ogbue, Toronto

This past Father's Day, I spent some time chatting with my Dad about the Nigerian team's performance in this year's world cup. 

At the time, with Nigeria already on two losses, my father proclaimed that he'd all but switched allegiances to the Dutch, and that I should be happy that I hadn't gone to South Africa as planned due to the gross disappointment that the Super Eagles had been thus far. 

Besides, as he went on to point out through the dexterous use of an Igbo proverb, "I can't take it into my father's compound", meaning that football is just a game, and I shouldn't take the team's performance to heart.

Now, while I agree that the Eagles have been much less than super this year, I still found it difficult to give up hope of progression to the knock-out round, even in the final seconds of stoppage time during our draw with South Korea. 

Unfortunately, now that all is said and done, even I, ever the optimist, have been forced to admit defeat.

It's a tough pill for me to swallow as such an avid Nigerian fan.  For all of my loyalty and green and white pride, I couldn't help feeling as though all of my cheering has been in vain.  In fact, at times throughout the tournament, I've felt like the solitary voice of support for the Super Eagles, as fans from other countries dismissed their chances. 

Now that our campaign is over, you probably think that I should heed my father's advice and join him and the legions of disillusioned Nigerians who are jumping ship to support other teams.

Well, I'm afraid that I still haven't reached that point.  I know, I know.  I sound like a misguided romantic who continues to look for the faintest glimmer of hope, even in the face of failure.  Don't get me wrong, though.  I'm certainly aware of the fact that this year's Super Eagle outfit was nothing short of abysmal.  With no clear fulcrum of attack and a leaky defensive line, it was clear that my team's shortcomings would prove difficult to overcome.

Add to that the fact that Nigeria finds itself in the dubious position as the team which handed Greece its first goal and first victory on the World Cup stage.  Now, I have a sense of what former Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Mitch Williams must have felt.  He's the guy who gave up Joe Carter's home run when the Toronto Blue Jays won the 1993 World Series.

Nevertheless, unlike other fair-weather fans who only come out of the woodwork to watch football every four years, I shall continue to look forward to those moments in between, when Nigerian stars shine brightly.

I'll still hold on tightly to the successes of the Nigerian Dream Teams of yore, in much the same way that every English fan clings to the memory of their side's 1966 World Cup victory.  Should I be any less staunch in my belief than English fans, then, that my team will one day claim football's Holy Grail?  If we're to judge by the giant-killing Bafana Bafana after their win over the French, then certainly anything is possible.

Why, after all, should I abandon my beloved Super Eagles?  Why should I accept the sympathies of people like my colleague, who wrote me a note of condolence on a Post-It and pasted it on my desk after Nigeria's loss to the Greeks?  Certainly, we haven't seen the best that Nigerian football has to offer.  Surely, there must be something positive to look forward to after such a dreadful outing.

In fact, just today during the South Korea match, a producer of Nigerian movies was so taken by my patriotism that he's offered me a part in a film which he'll be shooting in Toronto in the coming weeks.  Of course, I'm not holding my breath, but it just goes to show that there's a silver lining to every cloud.

So you see, as the sun sets on Nigeria's fourth World Cup outing, I won't be ruing my team's fate.  While others around me don the colours of other countries, I'll continue to enjoy the remainder of the competition with the knowledge that Nigeria's opponents got off easy.  They've been spared from the power, precision and perfection of past and future Dream Teams, and won't know what's hit them the next time around.

So don't cry for me, Argentina, as I won't take this to my father's compound.  Watch out, though, because we'll be coming for you and the rest of the world when we meet in Brazil in four years' time!