The Labour of Our Heroes Past
Oweren the day Nigeria played Italy at the 1994 FIFA World Cup in the United States, I was inside a public bus. When I left our office in Ajao Estate, Lagos state, for a Bible study meeting in my church at Surulere, the Super Eagles leading 1-0 via an early goal by Emmanuel Amuneke (whose name was wrongly spelt as “Amunike” by the wonderful football authorities and had to live with it for the rest of his career). On the yellow bus ride between Ojuelegba and Masha, a passenger announced that Italy had beaten Nigeria 2-1. I did not want to believe him, so I did not believe him. Another passenger said it was not true, that it was still 1-1 and that the match had gone into extra time.
There were no mobile phones, no internet, no Livescore to follow the scores. Still, I was too emotionally invested to believe we had been defeated. I was praying that Nigeria would go all the way to the final. Reckless optimism. The optimistic passenger insisted that the match had not ended and we had not lost. Then he introduced himself. “My name is Baba Otu Mohammed. I once played for Nigeria,” he said. The name didn’t ring a bell to others. I was the only one who picked it. Immediately, I said to him: “You played for Nigeria at the 1976 and 1978 Africa Cup of Nations.” I could feel his sense of pride. The sensational dribbler was in the team of the tournament in 1976.
This encounter replayed on my mind on Wednesday when Sebastian Brodericks-Imasuen, also known as “Sabara”, died. He had reportedly been bed-ridden for a while, suffering from stroke and diabetes. My first shock was that his name didn’t ring a bell to many young football fans. To be sure, I was a kid when
Mohammed represented Nigeria at the Africa Cup of Nations in the 1970s and I never watched him play. But I still knew of him. I know of many great athletes who represented Nigeria before I was born. You cannot say Emmanuel Ifeajuna or Hogan “Kid” Bassey and it would not ring a bell to me. This is not about history being taught in schools but knowing and appreciating our sporting heroes.
Let me tell you a bit about Brodericks-Imasuen. On August 11, 1985, a group of Nigerian teenagers, captained by Nduka Ugbade, stunned the world by beating the highly favoured West Germany 2-0 to win the inaugural FIFA Under-16 World Championship. Jonathan Akpoborire scored as early as the fourth minute and Victor Igbinoba scored a TV goal one minute to the end of the match to send Nigerians absolutely crazy. It was incredible. Going to the tournament unknown and unrated, the Baby Eagles of Nigeria, as they were called before they were renamed Golden Eaglets, instantly put the country on the world map. Nigeria became the first African country to win a FIFA competition.
Just as Afrobeats has put Nigeria on the global entertainment map, Nigeria’s victory at China ’85 paved the way for our football to start gaining recognition beyond Africa. But this feat was not masterminded by a foreign coach, unlike when we won the Africa Cup of Nations in 1980 under the tutelage of Otto Glória, the Brazilian tactician. This time, it was a Nigerian that did it. Yes, Sebastian Brodericks. It was not a fluke: he took us to the final again two years later but lost to the USSR on penalties after a last-minute goal-bound move by Dimeji Lawal was halted by the referee, José Wright from Brazil, because of a foul on the winger. Wright curiously refused to give the advantage.
Let me put it plainly: Brodericks-Imasuen was the first Nigerian and the first African and the first black coach to win a world football championship. Should I say that again? On arrival in Nigeria after the glorious run, the team was received by Maj Gen Muhammadu Buhari, then military head of state, and Maj Gen Tunde Idiagbon, his deputy. Buhari declared them as heroes and national assets, promised them scholarships and named streets after them in their state capitals. There were no lavish cash gifts, as we do today, but the pride of patriotism and achievement was written all over the boys and their coaches. More teenagers aspired to play football and represent their fatherland.
With Brodericks-Imasuen’s historic feat, you would naturally assume that he had secured a place in our annals and would be treated as a national treasure for life. You would never predict that a day would come when his family would be begging “kind-hearted Nigerians” to assist in offsetting his medical bills and helping him get better treatment. He died at 85. We cannot say he died young. But he died miserably — from the picture of him on hospital bed that I saw on social media. I also read where his son, Chuka, was practically begging: “We would like to say a big thank you to one of his former players, Kayode Keshinro, for his support. We hope others can lend their support to us.”
The mainstream media did not treat BrodericksImasuen much better either. Reports of his death did not get considerable inches or front-page treatment in the newspapers. A line in our national anthem says: “The labour of our heroes past shall never be in vain…” Whoever wrote that line definitely had noble intentions about the beauty of remembering our history and honouring the memory of those who contributed their decent quotas to national development in different spheres of life. Maybe it is just not in our culture as a people to remember our history and honour our heroes. Perhaps, we are too occupied with today to