Our Coach – Chapter 9 – Nigerian Story, Football, Dapo, Sports Story, Read Free Stories Online, Free Web Novel, Fabling, Pam
GOLDEN STARS VS RAZORS
In the center of the field, David—”Rich Kid” emblazoned across the back of his jersey—moved like he owned the turf. The ball seemed magnetized to his feet as he weaved through Razor’s defense. With a quick glance, he passed to a teammate, who dribble-dodged an opponent and returned the ball to him in a seamless exchange.
David didn’t hesitate. He launched the ball with a strike so precise, so forceful, that Razor’s goalkeeper barely had time to react. The ball zipped past his outstretched hands and slammed into the net.
The crowd erupted in deafening cheers.
“And David does it again!” the commentator’s voice boomed over the speakers. “His shots are so fast, I wonder how his teammates even see the ball coming!”
Sean Swift stood at the sidelines, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The scoreboard updated with a satisfying clang.
GOLDEN STARS 3 – RAZORS 1
GREEN STARS VS NEVER LAST
The game was grittier, with both teams locked in an intense battle for dominance. The commentator’s voice rang out, less jubilant this time.
“This is disappointing,” he said. “It appears Dapo Oladapo will not be playing with the Green Stars today. But even with only ten players on the field, they’ve managed to dominate. Ending the first half with a lead of one goal, Never Last just can’t seem to get past Swift. This team sure knows how to show off!”
On the sidelines, Dapo sat on the bench, his knee bouncing uncontrollably. His hands twitched at his sides as though the nervous energy inside him was fighting to escape.
“They’re better without me,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on the field.
Coach Jay, seated next to him, didn’t miss a thing. His sharp eyes caught every twitch, every muttered word. But for now, he stayed silent.
GREEN STARS 1 – NEVER LAST 0
The hotel suite where Daniella lodged was immaculate, its modern furnishings bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting. The door clicked open, and Daniella walked in, Dapo trailing behind her.
“This is my room,” she said with a casual sweep of her hand. “Neat, right?”
Dapo nodded absently, his eyes scanning the space but clearly not registering it.
“You bummed out about not playing today?” she asked..
“No,” he replied curtly, brushing past her. “Can we just watch the videos now?”
Daniella shrugged and grabbed her laptop from the desk. She climbed onto the bed, patting the spot beside her in invitation.
“Come on.”
Reluctantly, Dapo joined her. The screen came to life with an old video of Coach James in his prime, wearing the green and white jersey of the Super Eagles. The footage was grainy but full of life—James darting across the pitch, his movements fluid and purposeful, the crowd chanting his name.
Dapo watched in silence, his earlier tension easing as a smile crept onto his face.
Daniella noticed. “Hey,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. You quit smoking.”
He didn’t respond, his smile fading as quickly as it had appeared.
“Are you sure you’re okay, though?” she pressed, her voice tinged with concern.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, his irritation cutting through the room like a blade.
Daniella leaned back, studying him, but said nothing.
In a small and suffocating bathroom, Coach James gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles white, his breath ragged as the violent spasms tore through him. The sound of his coughing echoed off the tiled walls, sharp and relentless. He clung to the sink like it was his lifeline, his body convulsing until, finally, a spatter of blood struck the porcelain.
For a moment, he stared at the crimson streaks, his chest heaving. The room seemed to tilt, and for an instant, he thought he might pass out. But no. Not here. Not like this.
James reached for the faucet and turned it on, the rush of cold water drowning out the pounding in his ears. He rinsed his mouth, the metallic tang of blood lingering as he spat. His eyes, sunken and bloodshot, stared back at him in the mirror. He looked like a man on the brink of surrender.
But Coach James wasn’t the surrendering type.
“I am not dying in a hotel room,” he muttered.
He reached for the small bottle of pills on the counter, shaking two into his hand. With a swig of water, he swallowed them down. The taste was bitter, but the reminder was even sharper: time was running out.
Another day at the stadium, the scoreboard gleamed under the midday sun, showcasing the day’s matchups:
Holy Players VS Iron Rod
Golden Stars VS Wondering Wolves
Green Stars VS Trophy Mongers
War Machines VS Unstoppable
But the crowd’s eyes were fixed on the Green Stars’ game—a match that had spiralled into chaos. The Trophy Mongers were relentless, their aggression leaving no room for mercy. The Green Stars were floundering, and at the center of their downfall was Dapo.
Dapo, their golden boy, the one-man player who had carried them this far, was now a shadow of himself. He stumbled over the ball, his movements sluggish and disconnected. Every failed pass, every missed opportunity, seemed to suck the energy out of the team.
On the sidelines, Rich Boy watched with a smug grin, his satisfaction evident. Dapo’s humiliation was his entertainment.
But not everyone was faltering. Sean Swift, the team’s goalkeeper, was a force of nature. He deflected shot after shot, his reflexes sharp, his focus unyielding. Three times, the Trophy Mongers came close to scoring, and three times, Swift denied them.
The commentators, perched above the chaos, narrated the unraveling in voices tinged with disbelief.
“I don’t know what’s wrong!” Commentator One’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Everyone came to see Dapo, the one-man player, but he can’t hold himself together, let alone the ball! Thanks to Sean Swift, this match might just end in a 0-0 draw.”
“But seriously, it’s pathetic,” Commentator Two cut in. “Look at him—he looks hungry. What’s going on?”
The referee’s whistle sliced through the tension, signalling the end of the first half.
“And saved by the bell!” Commentator One announced. “The Green Stars have ten minutes to figure out how to feed Dapo—because if they don’t, they’re done for.”
The locker room was thick with frustration. Sweat-drenched jerseys clung to weary bodies as the Green Stars huddled around Dapo.
“Are you sick?” The captain’s voice cut through the din, his tone sharp and probing. “A fever? Something?”
Max, ever the blunt one, leaned against a locker with a cigarette already perched between his fingers. “He stopped smoking.”
The captain’s head snapped toward Dapo, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “Seriously? In the middle of the competition, that’s when you choose to quit? Are you stupid?”
Max didn’t wait for a response. With deliberate disdain, he lit the cigarette and took a long drag before shoving it into Dapo’s hand.
“Look,” Max said. “I don’t care why you’re an addict. I don’t care what your deal is. But you’re not going to make us lose. Not now.”
Dapo hesitated, his hand trembling as he raised the cigarette to his lips. He took a slow inhale, the smoke burning his lungs, and then exhaled shakily.
The captain shook his head. “Swift, stay here with him. Bring him out when it’s time.”
The team filed out.
Uche, ever the pragmatic one, tossed Dapo a sausage roll as he passed.
“Don’t come out hungry,” he said with a smirk. “And drink some water while you’re at it.”
The locker room fell silent once the others were gone. Sean Swift quietly sat beside Dapo.
Dapo took another drag of the cigarette, staring at the floor. “I’m so stupid.”
Swift nodded, his expression unreadable. “You stopped smoking because of a girl.”
“And I was broke,” Dapo admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
For the first time, Swift’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “You could’ve asked one of us for a stick.”
“It was for the girl.”
Swift leaned back, his tone shifting to something softer, yet unflinching. “She doesn’t wish you well. Everybody knows you can’t change people—that’s why rehab exists. If she doesn’t like you as a smoker, she’ll never understand you. Your relationship will always be about pleasing her, and never about you.”
Dapo stared at him, searching for a retort, but found none.
Swift glanced at the clock. “You’ve got six minutes left. Smoke, eat, drink—whatever you need to do. Don’t waste it on talking.”
And with that, the quiet stretched between them once more.
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