Our Coach – Chapter 13 – Nigerian Story, Football, Dapo, Sports Story, Read Free Stories Online, Free Web Novel, Fabling, Pam
The tension in the air was thick, the kind that made every breath feel heavier than the last. Golden Stars had just earned a side throw, their only glimmer of hope in a match that was quickly slipping away. Rich Kid, ever the opportunist, seized the ball and made a break for the post.
But Swift was ready. With the speed of a predator, he raced toward the ball, eyes locked on his target. Hulk, always eager to play dirty, charged at him with all his weight, hoping to send the goalkeeper crashing to the ground.
Max saw the collision coming and acted instinctively. He planted his legs firmly, and the next thing Hulk knew, he was flying headfirst into the goalpost, his massive body crumpling to the turf. The stadium gasped.
The referee’s whistle cut through the moment. Max froze, his eyes widening in disbelief as the official pulled out a red card and waved it in his direction.
“Max, what the hell?” Swift said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He slapped Max’s hand in a quick high five.
Max leaned in. “That idiot is down. Don’t let them get a second goal.”
Swift’s smile was all teeth. “Did you break his leg?”
Max chuckled. “I heard more than that break.”
Swift nodded, his eyes still locked on the game as Max left the field. Hulk was carried away by medics, his groans following him.
The commentators were in full swing, their voices echoing throughout the stadium.
“I’m telling you, this referee has been bribed!” Commentator 1 raged. “Max was only protecting Swift.”
“You’re a professional commentator, right?” Commentator 2 shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“No,” Commentator 1 replied breezily, “I was just available.”
Commentator 2’s voice tightened. “I see. This is probably going to be your last job as a commentator.”
“I don’t care!” Commentator 1 shouted. “The Green Stars are two players down and still glowing! I can’t say much for the Golden Stars.”
The Golden Stars’ Rich Kid was ready to strike again. His eyes narrowed as he sized up Dapo, who was standing firm in front of him. Dapo smirked.
“So cheating now, huh? I figured you’d go that low. You’re nothing but a spoiled brat, aren’t you? Always falling back on daddy’s money.”
Rich Kid’s sneered at him. With a flick of his foot, he sent the ball past Dapo, then lashed out, kicking Dapo’s leg with a cruel and calculated move.
It happened so fast that Dapo didn’t even have time to react. The sharp pain shot up his leg, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap. But still, the referee’s whistle didn’t blow.
Rich Kid took the shot, sending the ball into the net with ease. The stadium’s roar was deafening, but all Dapo could hear was the pulsing throb of pain in his leg.
The referee, of course, ignored it all.
“This is bad! Do you still doubt that the referee has been bribed?” Commentator 1 screamed into the microphone.
Commentator 2 turned to glance at the referee, who seemed unusually defensive at the accusation.
“I can see Dapo getting up,” Commentator 2 stated.
Uche, furious at the blatant injustice, stormed after the referee, his rage bubbling over.
“Break his legs when you catch him!” Commentator 1 shouted, his words dripping with spite. “Do it for Dapo and Swift!”
“Stop instigating a riot!” Commentator 2 hissed, his face flushed.
Meanwhile, Swift stood, his eyes glued to the ball that was still lodged in the goalpost. He frowned until the goal registered. Then he staled towards the ball in silent anger, and picked it.
“Am I the only one who can see this?” Commentator 1 asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
“We all have eyes,” Commentator 2 replied, “but don’t forget that the Green Stars are still leading.”
Dapo’s mind was a whirlwind of pain and frustration, but one voice cut through it all. His mother’s.
“I will break your legs if you don’t win.”
The memory of her threat burned bright in his mind. He glanced down at his injured leg, his body screaming for rest, but his willpower was stronger. Max stood over him, a small bottle of ointment in his hand. He began applying the rub to Dapo’s leg.
“Are you good to go?” Max asked, his eyes searching Dapo’s.
Dapo didn’t flinch. He smiled instead. “Let’s make these losers weep.”
Captain noticed Dapo rising from the ground, and his voice rang out, filled with command.
“Uche!” he barked.
Uche, still seething from the earlier injustice, ignored the captain’s summons. But when Captain pointed toward Dapo, Uche’s rage melted. He turned and made his way to the bench, his face set in stone.
Seing that Dapo was up, Max walked towards Swift and Swift and slapped him on the back with a grin.
“Here’s your anime hero moment,” Max said.
Swift, whose eyes had turned to ice, shot Max a glare. It wasn’t one of anger. It was the gaze of a monster about to be unleashed.
Max raised his hands in mock surrender. “Make these losers cry.”
With one last glance at Dapo, Swift nodded.
The referee blew the whistle again, signaling the return of play.
The ball moved swiftly, like a predator stalking its prey. Rich Kid, still dripping with the arrogance of youth, swiped the ball past Dapo, who was now barely limping forward. Lanre was quick to try and cover, but it was too late. Rich Kid had already lined up his shot.
But then, something happened. Swift, as though powered by something beyond human, dove, catching the ball with an almost unnatural speed. He didn’t stop there. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the ball straight at Rich Kid, hitting him square in the stomach.
SMACK!
Rich Kid dropped to the ground, gasping for air. The whistle blew, and the match came to an end.
The Green Stars had won.
The jubilant roar of the crowd was deafening, but amidst the chaos, all Dapo could hear was the steady thrum of his heart. The pain in his leg was forgotten, drowned out by the victory that was more than just a score. It was a testament to everything they had fought for.
The Green Stars had done it. They had won, and Coach James had, once again, proven his prowess as a leader, shaping these young men into champions.
“And the Green Stars have won!” the commentator’s voice rang out, filled with exuberance. “Coach James raised these boys right.”
On the field, the moment felt like a dream. Girls, swept up in the magic of the moment, ran onto the pitch, throwing themselves at Swift. His face softened, a boyish grin forming as the attention overwhelmed him. The cameras flashed, capturing every movement, every smile. But amidst the chaos, there was Daniella, darting across the grass. She found Dapo, her lips seeking his with an intensity that made the world fade away for just a moment.
Dapo, ever aware, pulled away for a brief second, his eyes catching sight of Matilda walking off the field with a tall white man. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his focus was momentarily diverted to Daniella. He kissed her back.
“I will break your other leg if you ever break my heart,” Daniella whispered.
Dapo laughed, he doubted their relationship would last, but this was his moment.
Across the field, the Captain’s wife and son rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight, triumphant hug.
“Well, the good guys always win,” Commentator 1’s voice cut through the air, his tone tinged with amusement. “I’m not surprised. But who’s that kissing my love?”
Commentator 2’s dry laugh followed. “You’re a clown.”
Meanwhile, Rich Kid, still on the ground, finally regained consciousness. He didn’t make a move. Instead, tears silently traced the path down his cheeks, his body still too defeated to fight. On the opposite side of the field, Mikel Odia sat with his head buried in his palms, muttering. “I asked the refferee to turn a blind ye and he just over did it.”
The other Golden Stars were torn between guilt and dissapointment.
Still, their supporters clung to the hope that their cheers would somehow revive the fading energy of their team, but it was in vain. The Golden Stars were outmatched, and it showed in every tear shed, every cheer that rang hollow.
Commentator 1’s voice was lighthearted. “The match is over and I’m off to take selfies with the Green Stars!”
“You’re not right,” Commentator 2 replied, his voice exasperated but amused. “Wait—look! The Golden Stars are crying!”
Laughter erupted from Commentator 1, filling the stadium with a raw, almost cruel joy. “They made them cry! David and his teammates, crying! Even the arrogant Mikel Odia!”
As the camera panned across the field, the sight of the Golden Stars in emotional disarray was almost too much for the onlookers. B
A journalist, eager to capture the pulse of the moment, approached the Captain. The glare of the cameras and the weight of their words hung thick in the air.
“Congratulations,” the journalist said, eyes shining with excitement. “How does it feel to win?”
Before the Captain could answer, Uche jumped in, grinning from ear to ear. “It feels like the two million we won!”
Max shook his head, chuckling. “It feels great! Don’t mind this idiot.”
The Captain smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “You heard them,” he said, glancing at his team with a quiet pride.
The journalist pressed on, clearly aware of the greater story that was still unfolding. “So, is it true that Coach James will be leaving you for the national team?”
The question hung in the air, and Dapo’s expression shifted. “Leaving who?” he scoffed. His voice, tinged with a mix of disbelief and hurt, cut through the tension. “Hey, Coach, if you’re watching this, how selfish do you think we are? Coach can’t leave us.”
“We’re a family,” the Captain added. “Even outside the team. Even as the Eagles’ coach, Coach James will always be Coach James to us.”
A familiar voice cut through the air. Malcolm, always confident walked into view.
“James, I know you’re watching,” he said, his voice laced with humor but grounded in sincerity. “Welcome back to the team.”
He turned to the rest of the squad, his words carrying an unspoken promise. “You all will make fine players for the national team, although some of you will be playing for the Under-17s, the Under-21s, or even the Super Eagles.”
The team—minus Swift—was left in stunned silence, processing the weight of Malcolm’s words. Swift, ever the quiet force on the field, seemed to be the only one not taken aback.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “Swift didn’t tell you?”
The sterile hum of the operations room was interrupted only by the quiet shuffle of medical staff preparing for the procedure. Coach James lay on the operating table, his eyes flicking toward the TV screen mounted on the wall. The doctors had gathered, ready to begin.
The sound of the commentator’s voice faded as he watched the Green Stars—his team—celebrating their victory. He could almost feel their joy, a triumph they had earned through sweat and sacrifice. The NFF President was handing the trophy to the jubilant players, their faces beaming under the bright stadium lights.
And then, the Owner of BB Group appeared on screen, holding up a large cheque with a flourish. The crowd roared as the team lifted it high, a symbol of their hard-won glory.
“TO COACH JAMES!” they shouted in unison, their voices echoing in the silence of the operating room.
Coach James’s lips curled into a smile, his heart swelling with pride.
The TV screen flickered, then went blank.
Doctor Sam stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He glanced at the machine monitoring Coach’s vitals, then back at the man lying before him.
“Are you ready?” Sam asked.
Coach James turned his gaze back to the sterile white ceiling. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but his mind was elsewhere, in the world of the Green Stars, in the world of victory.
“Yes,” he murmured. His eyes closed, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. “But why did you get me the kidney on your own?”
Doctor Sam hesitated for a moment, his hands busy, preparing the tools that would decide Coach’s fate. “Because your daughter will kill me if I let you die,” he said with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Coach James chuckled softly. “I see,” he muttered.
The doctor’s expression softened. He leaned closer, making sure Coach could hear every word. “Plus, you’re like a father to me, Coach. I couldn’t let you go out like this.”
Coach James opened his eyes slowly, meeting Sam’s gaze. “Then let’s do this,” he said, his voice steady.
As the doctors moved into position, the faint echo of his team’s cheers—the memory of their victory—lingered in his mind. It wasn’t over yet. He wasn’t done.
Not yet.
The End