Our Coach – Chapter 10 – Nigerian Story, Football, Dapo, Sports Story, Read Free Stories Online, Free Web Novel, Fabling, Pam
The whistle pierced the air, its sharp tone signaling the start of the second half. The stadium erupted into cheers and jeers as Dapo and Sean Swift stepped onto the field.
For Dapo, everything seemed different now.
The sun was brighter, its golden rays illuminating the field like a divine spotlight. The grass beneath his feet seemed greener, alive with a vibrancy he hadn’t noticed before. The crowd—a pulsating mass of energy—was smiling, cheering as though each of them were rooting for him alone. Dapo inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling his lungs. It felt like a rebirth.
And then, the match began.
Dapo sprang into action, his movements fluid and precise. The ball felt like an extension of his body, responding effortlessly to his will. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t just playing—he was alive.
“Who is that young man on the field?” boomed the voice of Commentator Two, carried across the stadium by loudspeakers. “That could be Lionel Messi!”
“Lionel?” Commentator One retorted. “He has the potential to surpass Lionel!”
The game shifted into overdrive. The ball never even crossed into Green Stars’ territory.
The crowd roared as Dapo scored the first goal, a flawless shot that sailed past the Trophy Mongers’ keeper.
Moments later, Captain intercepted a pass and sent the ball to Max. Max deftly flicked it to Josh, who, in turn, found Dapo again. Goal number two.
Sean Swift, meanwhile, stood relaxed in front of the Green Stars’ goal post, stretching lazily as if to mock the opposing team.
The Trophy Mongers’ keeper tried to regain control, throwing the ball toward his teammates, but Mike was quicker. With a powerful header, he sent it straight to Dapo, who passed it to Uche. The third goal was a thing of beauty, a masterclass in teamwork.
The stadium was electric, a living organism fueled by the triumph of the Green Stars.
AThe bar was alive with celebration, the walls echoing with laughter, chants, and the occasional thud of beer bottles hitting the table. Dapo sat among his teammates, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other. For the first time, he felt like he belonged.
“Hey, bartender!” shouted a fan, his voice barely audible over the chaos. “Two bottles of your finest vodka for the Green Stars!”
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices blending into a boisterous rendition of kegite songs. One of the fans pulled out a phone, snapping pictures as he joined the team in their revelry.
Above the bar, the television flickered with highlights from the match. Behind the sports presenter, clips of Dapo’s goals and Swift’s unbothered demeanour played on repeat.
“This local team has become an overnight sensation,” the presenter announced, her voice brimming with excitement. “Due to popular demand, the remaining matches will now be broadcast live on this station.”
The room erupted into a fresh wave of cheers, but Dapo’s focus shifted as Daniella walked in.
He placed his drink on the table and followed her out to the balcony.
The balcony was quiet, a stark contrast to the raucous bar. The night sky stretched endlessly above, stars faint against the haze of city lights. Daniella leaned on the railing, her shoulders tense as she stared out into the distance.
Dapo stepped out, the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating his face.
“So,” Daniella said without turning, her voice sharp. “You didn’t stop smoking.”
“No, I didn’t,” Dapo replied, exhaling a plume of smoke. “And I don’t plan to.”
Daniella spun around, her expression a mixture of disappointment and fury. “You’re unbelievable! I’m trying to help you, and all you want to do is ruin your life! It starts with a cigarette, and then it’s drugs. If you’re not already doing drugs.”
“What’s your problem?” Dapo snapped, his voice rising. “My team just qualified for the quarterfinals. The least you could do is say congratulations before this!”
“Fine!” Daniella shot back. “Congratulations. But not to you—to the cigarette you smoked before playing. Oh yes, I noticed. And to think I felt bad for you! Everyone else may see you as a hero, but to me, you’re nothing but a villain. You’re destroying yourself, and you don’t even care.”
She turned to leave, but Dapo grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to face him. His eyes glinted with anger, his lips curling into a smirk.
“Do you even hear yourself?” he said coldly. “Save me? Don’t give me that crap. I never asked for your help. A villain? Fine. That’s better than being a selfish, childish witch who thinks she can fix everyone else instead of fixing herself.”
He released her hand, stepping back. “You almost cost me that match. You know what would’ve happened if we lost? You’d have tried to comfort me. Maybe even pity-dated me. But I would’ve hated you—sooner or later.”
Dapo took one last drag from his cigarette, flicked it over the balcony, and turned to leave.
“I’m done with this,” he said, his voice final.
And then he was gone, leaving Daniella alone under the vast, indifferent sky.
Dapo returned to the bar where he was once again the centre of the world, a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. For the first time, he laughed freely, blending into the team’s raucous camaraderie.
Trying not to think through her exchange with Dapo and how suffocating it had felt, Daniella toward her car, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She kept her head down.
“Hey, watch where you’re—”
The voice halted mid-sentence as its owner realized who he was speaking to.
Standing before her was a young man, barely out of his teens, dressed in a designer shirt and loafers that screamed wealth. His sleek sports car gleamed under the streetlights.
“Oh, my bad,” he said, his tone shifting. “Are you okay?”
Daniella nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line.
“Wait a second,” the boy said, his eyes narrowing with recognition. “You’re Dapo’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not.”
“Whoa, easy there,” he replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I was joking. So… that means you’re available, right?”
“I’m not,” she snapped.
“Too bad,” he muttered, shaking his head with a grin. “It would’ve been sweet dating the daughter of BB.”
Her steps faltered, and for the first time, she looked at him directly. A smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Without another word, she slipped into her car and drove away.
Back at the stadium which was now eerily quiet with the dead of night, its towering floodlights now dimmed. Dapo sat outside, leaning against the cool concrete walls, the end of a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers.
A car pulled up nearby, its headlights cutting through the darkness. The driver’s door opened, and Coach James stepped out, his commanding presence unmistakable.
“Get in,” he said, jerking his head toward the passenger seat.
Dapo held the cigarette between his lips and climbed into the car.
As the engine purred to life, Coach James gave him a sideways glance. “Do me a favor. Don’t smoke around me.”
Dapo hesitated, then rolled down the window and flicked the cigarette away.
“Thank you,” James said with a nod.
“Where are we going?” Dapo asked.
The car came to a stop in front of a village that seemed frozen in time. The houses were humble structures of mud, their thatched roofs sagging under years of neglect. There were no fences, no gates—just open spaces filled with silence.
Coach James got out and perched on the edge of his car’s trunk. Dapo followed, the unfamiliar environment making him uneasy.
“That’s my house,” James said, pointing to a crumbling mud hut that seemed ready to collapse under its own weight.
Dapo glanced at him, startled.
“My father and I used to play football right there,” James continued, his voice softer now. “We didn’t have a proper ball, so we used a tin can. Every morning, it was just the two of us, kicking it back and forth.”
He paused, the memory hanging heavy in the air.
“But one day, he fell sick. And then he was gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Dapo said quietly.
James waved the apology away. “I kept playing, though. With that same tin can. My mother—God rest her soul—tried to take it away, thought it was foolish. But when she saw how determined I was, she gave me a real ball instead. Soon, the other kids joined in, and we invented our own kind of football. By the time I was sixteen, I tried out for the state team—and I made it.”
Dapo listened, unsure where the story was going.
“My mother supported me every step of the way,” James said, his voice growing thick. “She passed before she could see me succeed. But on her deathbed, she handed me that old tin can and told me to make her and my father proud.”
He turned to Dapo, his eyes piercing. “I watched you today. The NFF President and I were watching the match live.”
Dapo blinked in surprise.
“I saw you struggling. Withdrawing from smoking. Then you gave up. I’m glad you did because you could’ve cost us that match.”
“I know,” Dapo admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was stupid of me.”
James reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pack, tossing it to Dapo.
“What’s this?”
“Nicotine gum,” James said. “It’ll help you quit. Trust me, kid. Years of smoking will weigh you down. It’s why I retired earlier than I should have.”
Dapo stared at the pack, the weight of James’s words sinking in.
“You’ve got talent,” James said. “Real talent. You’re a hero to kids who haven’t even been born yet. Don’t deprive them of the inspiration you could be.”
For the first time, Dapo felt the gravity of what lay ahead. He nodded, clutching the pack tightly, and for a moment, the quiet night felt filled with promise.