"C'mon, do something Dortmund, do something," I muttered to myself, panicking as I watched the football match on my small television in my room. It was the Champions League final between Real Madrid, a 14-time champion, and Dortmund, a one-time champion.

It was the 82nd minute of the game, and the captain of Dortmund, Marco Reus, was with the ball. It was the final game of Reus's career, and him winning the UEFA Champions League for Dortmund in his last match would be a beautiful thing for all Dortmund supporters to watch—and especially for Real Madrid haters like me.

Reus scanned the area before giving a back pass to Ian Maatsen, the left back, who, out of fear, mistakenly passed it to Jude Bellingham- a player from Madrid.

Jude Bellingham dribbled forward, and my heart raced as he gave a through pass to Vinicius Junior, who was sprinting from the left flank. Vinicius Junior then sent a powerful shot with his left foot, beating the keeper and hitting the back of the net.

"GOALLLL!" I could hear the screams and shouts from my neighbors as Real Madrid took a 2-0 lead over Dortmund in the Champions League final, sending shock waves to my spine.

I switched off the TV in anger and lay on my bed. As a die-hard Barcelona fan, the thought of Real Madrid winning the UEFA Champions League for the 15th time was a nightmare. My WhatsApp dms will be filled anytime soon with mockery messages from Real Madrid fans.The trolls from Madrid supporters, comparing their 15 UCL titles to Barcelona's 5 would definitely sting.

"Real Madrid has won it again. Someone has to stop them. Someone really does have to stop them. Their European dominance over the years is alarming. Barcelona can't compete with them,we have been Shitty in the champions league for over 9 seasons ." I thought as tears welled up in my eyes.

My thoughts lingered on the disastrous 2023/24 season my beloved team, Barcelona, had suffered. From losing all fixtures of the El Clásico,to losing 4-1 against PSG in the champions league quarter finals second leg, to finishing the season without a single trophy, it was a season to forget.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Vinicius Jr. celebrating with his teammates. A wave of despair washed over me. How could this keep happening? Year after year, Real Madrid seemed to defy logic, their dominance in European football is an unyielding force. Barcelona, once the undisputed kings of the continent, now seemed like a mere shadow of their former selves.

A bitter taste filled my mouth as I replayed the match in my mind. Could anything be done to break this cycle? Was there a chance for Barcelona to rise from the ashes and reclaim their throne? Or was this the new reality—an era dominated by Real Madrid? These questions gnawed at me as I stared into the darkness of my room, the weight of disappointment pressing down on my shoulders as I fell asleep.

—--------

Weeks Later

I woke up feeling energized and enthusiastic. The thoughts of Real Madrid's triumph and the pain it caused me had washed away as the thoughts of today's match enveloped my mind.

It was the final of the community football match between Elepe Tornadoes and Itamaga Lions, hosted by the local government, scheduled for 4 p.m. this evening.

The tournament was a fierce competition between towns in my local government area, all battling for the coveted cup. It was another chance to win and score more goals as the star player of the tournament so far, leading the competition with 13 goals and 11 assists in just 5 games as an Elepe Tornado left winger.

"I have to figure out how to bribe my sister again to keep her mouth shut," I thought to myself, a mix of annoyance and amusement crossing my face as I washed my boots.

It had always been a routine. My sister would demand some money whenever I went to the field for training or a match, so she could keep her mouth shut and cover for me if our parents asked about my whereabouts.

"It's 1:30 p.m. already, Osy. You have to get dressed fast so you don't arrive late for the training. You know you don't want to get Coach John-Bosco angry, right? He can be aggressive when he's mad," my girlfriend, Precious, said as she helped pack my backpack.

Coach John-Bosco had been the grassroots football coach of Elepe community—my community—for over 10 years. A man in his 50s, Tall ,bald-headed and with a protruding belly-He had no tolerance for latecomers and lackadaisical attitudes from players.

"Okay, I'm almost done. Let me quickly see my sister." I said as I hurriedly packed my boots into my backpack and ran to my sister's room.

Precious- my girlfriend right from my days in secondary school, had always been supportive of my football aspirations and dreams. She motivated me, followed me to training and matches, treated me when I got injured,massaged my muscles when I had pains , and acted as my social support system.

"Don't stay long today. You know Daddy and Mummy will be home any moment from 7 p.m.," my younger sister said, smiling as she counted the money I gave her.

"I won't stay long. I'll be home by 6:30 p.m. Just do the needful," I said as I hurried outside to meet Precious.

The final match was being held at the Ikorodu Local Government Field. The field was Uneven and had bumpy playing surfaces, with torn nets on the goal-posts, no corner flags, and no standard touchlines,goal lines or halfway lines on the pitch—a typical grassroot-football pitch in Africa.

The commercial bus stopped, and Precious and I got off. I paid the driver and we both ran to the pitch.``Oh my God, they've already started training," I said, panic evident in my voice and expression.

"Just apologize to Coach John-Bosco. You know you're his favorite. I'll be watching you from the stands," Precious said, bidding me goodbye as I approached the pitch.

As I drew closer, I saw Coach John-Bosco's eyes catch sight of me. His gaze was sharp and intense, cutting through the distance between us.

"What's the time?! What's the time?! Why are you just coming?!" Coach John-Bosco yelled, his voice scary and his expression filled with anger.

"I'm sorry, sir. The bus broke dow—" Before I could finish, I received a thunderous slap, which sent me sprawling.