On Sunday, August 2, Breet played a friendly football match against some random company called Cardtonic.
We beat the hell out of them; the score was 2–0.
Some football analysts may argue that 2–0 does not qualify as “beating the hell” out of anybody. Those analysts did not see Cardtonic’s faces during the medal ceremony.
Let’s rewind.
The facial representation of “Loss”…
The Preparation…
The match was scheduled for 4:00 PM at Meadow Hall in Lekki. Eight players per side, including one goalkeeper. Two 30-minute halves. Simple friendly match.
Except nobody told the Breet team about the “friendly” part. We trained like 20 times. You would think UEFA officials were coming, or the winner would qualify for the Champions League.
Captain Emmanuel took the responsibility more seriously than anything we have ever seen. He assigned positions, gave marking instructions, studied the formation and led the team like his family name was on the trophy.
Honestly, if Emmanuel showed this level of seriousness at his actual job, he would be the CEO of Breet by now.
Captain and coachie Emmanuel keeping it ‘real’…
The Match…
The match kicked off, and within five minutes, it became clear that Cardtonic had prepared for a different sport. They mistook the football match for Wrestling.
The tackles started flying.
Tunmishe charged towards a cross inside the box and got shoved from behind into the goalkeeper. Bimbo nearly lost a leg. Our players were being kicked, pushed and introduced to the Meadow Hall grass without their consent. Several of our boys left the match with feet slightly bigger than the ones they arrived with.
The referee watched all this with the calmness of someone waiting for a food delivery. Apparently, cards were scarce resources that afternoon.
Cardtonic tried to create one dangerous chance in the first half, but John the baddest (not the baptist) read the shot perfectly and pushed it away. Voz handled every high ball sent our way. Remi stayed glued to his assigned man like an unpaid debt. At the other end, Bimbo was conducting the midfield like an orchestra, dribbling people’s breadwinners and generally making their lives uncomfortable.
Bad boy Bims dribbling somebody’s father…
The first half ended 0–0. Cardtonic went into halftime and mistook the scoreline for hope. That was an unfortunate mistake.
Captain “Emagency” Decided Enough Was Enough…
He realised we played the first half without full control of the midfield, so Emmanuel adjusted the formation and made things narrower.
Suddenly, Breet had the ball again.
Bimbo sent this crazy corner into the box. Cardtonic managed a partial clearance, and the ball rolled outside the area towards Emmanuel.
Our captain stepped forward with the aura of Thanos, and hit the ball with the power of a kick from a Shaolin warrior. The ball flew past everyone and entered the net.
1–0.
Emmanuel immediately removed his jersey and slid across the pitch like a man who had been waiting his entire life for that exact moment. Everyone jumped on him, the bench emptied, our supporters lost their minds, chaos erupted.
Vivian almost lost her voice screaming…
Then, Tega Lost a Leg…
Reading that heading, you might assume Tega was the Man of the Match who scored both goals.
She was not the Man of the Match. She is not a “man”. And she was not even in the match.
Tega was one of our passionate supporters on the sidelines, screaming, celebrating and treating every Breet attack like the final minutes of a World Cup.
At some point, the happiness became too much. One thing led to another, Tega took off running, and she broke her ankle. For medical and legal accuracy, the leg is still attached. The ankle, however, as of the time of writing this, I’m not sure of.
She arrived as a spectator and left as part of the match casualty report. If sacrifice was the only requirement for Man of the Match, we might need to reconsider the award.
Get well soon, Tega. We know you gave everything for the medal, including one perfectly good ankle.
Samuel Sent the Goalkeeper for Fresh Air…
The second goal started with Tunmishe, who ran tirelessly throughout the match and was involved in everything good we created. He sent another dangerous ball across the box. It took a deflection and looked like it might escape everyone.
Then Samuel appeared. He stretched out one long leg, reached the ball while falling and lifted it over the goalkeeper.
2–0.
The goalkeeper watched it enter, because wetin e wan do? The Cardtonic supporters watched it enter, because all they could help with was screaming. Breet watched it enter, because we sent it there. Everybody watched it enter.
Our supporters went mad. Vuvuzelas came alive. The entire place became noisy enough to make residents in neighbouring buildings come out to see what was going on, but fortunately for us, they only came out to witness the downfall of Cardtonic.
After that goal, something entered Bimbo. He started dribbling Cardtonic players even more aggressively and nearly scored what would have been the goal of the match. Richard remained a threat on the ground and in the air. Damilare fought through discomfort. And Nnanna came on and held things down until injury interrupted his own afternoon.
Then there was Michael.
Michael entered the match like a Shaolin master sent to put fear into the hearts of our opponents. Late in the game, Cardtonic launched a dangerous attack, and Michael made the executive decision that neither the ball nor the player would be surviving any further. The referee finally remembered he owned a yellow card. Fair enough.
Alex also came on during the dying minutes and helped shut everything down.
Everyone did their part. Some created goals, some stopped attacks, some sacrificed their ankles. It was a complete team performance.
Spain Did Not Celebrate This Much…
The final whistle went.
Breet 2. Random Company 0.
We celebrated like we had won a World Cup, a Champions League and a presidential election on the same afternoon. Spain showed more restraint when they won the actual World Cup. Ife could not stop screaming all day; I doubt he slept overnight.
On the other side of fortune were Cardtonic’s supporters, who had been very loud at the beginning, suddenly discovered the importance of silence and reflection. Some started saying, “Everybody is a winner”, which is a beautiful thing losers say.
Others began leaving before the medals were distributed. We understand; drinking tears like garri water can make a person tired.
Then came the ceremony.
Cardtonic formed two lines on the left and right while the Breet team walked through the middle to collect their medals. It was meant to be a guard of honour, but the expressions on their faces made it look more like compulsory community service.
If you have ever wondered what losing looks like, see the picture below.
The joy faded away real quick…
By the way, the picture above is of Maria from Cardtonic; she was the one who looked at the trophy and said: “The cup is even plastic”. Correct, it’s plastic, but the scoreline was not.
Any Other Company Want Some?
To whoever arranged this friendly: thank you.
If you are from Breet, excellent work.
If you are from Cardtonic, we hope your resignation process goes smoothly.
And to every other company reading this, the invitation is open.
Bring seven players and one goalkeeper. Bring your supporters, bring your tactics, bring ice packs and bring someone emotionally equipped enough to explain why “everybody is a winner” after the final whistle.
Come and get it.
