Chapter 63: A night for the King [3]
The players returned to the pitch, sweat still drying on their brows, boots crunching the turf as if the grass itself vibrated with anticipation.
The Abuja National Stadium had not relented for a second as drums still thundered and horns blared. Chants shook the air.
"Sam!" "Sam!" "Sam!"
[HALFTIME: Nigeria 1-1 Brazil]
Forty five minutes left to crown a night Africa would never forget.
FWEEE!
The referee’s whistle sounded and the game resumed.
Brazil came out sharp, passing in triangles, moving the Super Eagles from side to side. They were organized and dangerous as Paquetá orchestrated, while Bruno Guimarães swept behind him.
On the right, Rodrygo’s menace exploded as he kept needling at Sanusi with nimble feints.
And then in the 48th minute, Brazil as a whole exploded.
Vinícius received the ball with a deft touch and darted inside, dragging Aina narrow. He pinged it to Paqueta who quickly scanned before slipping a disguised ball wide to Lodi, who whipped a cross in before anyone could react.
Endrick exploded between Bassey and Ekong, a blur of teenage hunger as he connected and thumped a header past Nwabali.
The Nigerian goalkeeper was rooted to one spot.
GOAL!
Nigeria 1-2 Brazil.
Nigeria was stunned.
The away bench leapt, Ancelotti’s assistants clapping furiously even as the veteran coach maintained a trademark chill expression on his face.
Charging towards the corner flag in celebrated, Endrick pounded his chest, smiling wide. The golden boy of Brazil had finally announced himself under Abuja’s floodlights.
The stadium dimmed for a moment. Nigeria was now behind.
But then the chants rose again.
"Super Eagles!" "Super Eagles!"
Sam jogged back, clapping, lifting his arms. "Heads up! It’s not over!" His voice carried like command. "We still got this!"
Nigeria tried to reply immediately, but Brazil collectively smothered their efforts within the next few minutes, but they didn’t give up.
Ndidi barked orders, while Onyeka hunted like a hound. The midfield tightened, choking Brazil’s rhythm.
In the 55th minute, Lookman stole from Danilo, surged down the flank, and squared across. Osimhen lunged but Marquinhos was faster as he hacked clear.
Mere seconds later, Chukwueze received the ball and went alone on a dizzying solo run before stinging Alisson’s palms with a low drive.
Nigeria smelt blood.
Then came the moment in the 59th minute of the game.
Ndidi won a header, and the ball fell to Sam thirty yards out. He cushioned the ball on his thigh, killing it’s momentum, then he let it drop once before spinning Militão with a sudden elastico.
BZZZ!
The Real Madrid talisman saw ghosts.
And suddenly, a lane opened in the Brazilian defense.
Sam sprinted!
Marquinhos stepped, desperate to stop him but Sam slipped right past him with a Cruyff turn so smooth it stole a gasp from the crowd.
Inside the box, Alisson charged, quickly closing him down, but Sam stayed ice-cold as he chipped with his weaker left foot.
The ball floated, hung in the air, and then kissed the net.
GOAL!
Nigeria 2-2 Brazil.
BOOM!
Abuja detonated.
Fireworks shot into the sky as the stadium bounced as though built on springs. All the fans went wild in euphoria.
Sam sprinted to the corner, ripped off an imaginary crown from the air and placed it on his head. His teammates piled on him, Osimhen lifting him high.
"KING!" "KING!" The fans chanted.
The Ballon d’Or winner had scored in his first game back home. The king had delivered, and the fans acknowledged him.
That goal only ignited the game further as between the 62nd to 70th minutes, it was end to end fury between both nations.
Brazil refused to fold.
At one point, Paquetá pinged a pass to Vinícius, who skinned Aina again before curling one toward the far corner, but Nwabali flew, fingertips denying him.
Nigeria hit back instantly through Chukwueze who beat Lodi down the line, and squared into the box. Osimhen dummied, setting Lookman up but the Atalanta man smacked the crossbar with his rocket.
The rebound fell to Sam, but his shot was blocked by Militão’s desperate slide. The intensity was just crazy at this point of the game.
Every tackle was cheered, every shot a roar. It was no longer a friendly. Now, it was a war painted in green, yellow, and gold.
In the 73rd minute though, Brazil did it again as Lucas Paquetá found Rodrygo between the lines. One shimmy, one burst, and the winger laid it off to Bruno Guimarães arriving late into the box.
The Newcastle midfielder struck sweetly from twenty yards, curling just beyond Nwabali’s reach into the top corner.
GOAL!
2-3 Brazil.
The Seleção huddled, grinning, arms pointing skyward. Abuja fell into stunned silence for only a moment, then the drums began again.
In the 77th minute, substitutions were finally made as Eric Chelle brought on Kelechi Iheanacho for Frank Onyeka, and Moses Simon for Ademola Lookman, switching to a 4-2-4.
The substitution brought fresh legs, more width, and more chaos. Sam dropped deeper, becoming conductor and executioner in one.
And then in the 80th minute, Nigeria struck again.
Sam drifted left to collect from Sanusi. Glancing up, he saw Osimhen making a diagonal run and then with the outside of his right boot, he whipped a trivela pass that split Militão and Marquinhos in half.
The stadium gasped.
Osimhen stormed onto it and smashed across Alisson into the corner.
GOAL!
Osimhen roared, sprinting to Sam and bowing before him as the crowd laughed, sang, and danced.
Abuja turned into a carnival.
Brazil shook their heads. This was chaos they couldn’t control.
The game continued, and the pace was insane.
Vinícius danced past Aina again, cut inside, and fired just wide. Endrick nearly stole one on the rebound but Bassey muscled him out.
On the other end, Iheanacho almost curled one into the top corner, but Alisson finger-tipped it away.
The game tilted like a seesaw with no brakes, and both sides desperate to win.
In the 90th minute though, finally, Nigeria had their moment as Sam struck again just after the board went up, indicating +4 additional minutes.
Ndidi intercepted a pass from Bruno, and snapped it to Iheanacho who instantly fed Sam at the 18 yard box. The crowd surged to their feet.
Marquinhos closed in, while Militão shadowed.
Under the pressure from both center backs, Sam faked a drive, then chopped inside both with a lightning roulette.
Bzzz!
It was lightning, it was unseeable, untraceable.
And just like that, he was through.
Alisson charged but Sam stayed calm as he sent him sprawling with a feint, then tucked the ball home with brutal simplicity.
GOAL!
4-3 Nigeria.
KABOOM!
Abuja became an earthquake.
Men wept, women screamed, and children climbed fences in a raw expression of the euphoria that they felt at this moment.
The noise rolled like thunder over the city.
Sam pointed to the sky, kissed his pendant, and then pounded his chest like the King Kong. "For Nigeria!" He roared.
Kayla cried in the stands, clapping with both hands over her mouth.
The game was over, so they thought.
But Brazil were Brazil, and they had one last breath in the 90th plus 3 minute.
Paquetá drove through midfield with the ball and fed Vinícius wide. The Real Madrid talisman cut inside before striking a thunderous shot that Nwabali could only parry. The ball spilled loose, and Endrick, the wonderkid was in the way again.
WHOOSH!
He pounced like a Tiger and stabbed it in.
GOAL!
Nigeria 4-4 Brazil.
The Seleção sprinted back, no celebrations, eyes only on the restart.
This time, the game was truly over now. There was just less than a minute left till the end of the game.
FWEEE!
The referee’s whistle kicked off the game again in the 90th plus 4 minute and eager and daring enough to try something that late with mere seconds left, Sam called for the ball and it rolled to him.
Receiving it, he locked in and switched on the afterburners.
Like the flash, he surged forward alone, going on an incredible solo run, dragging the ball through midfield as the crowd screamed wildly, roaring him on.
Militão lunged, but Sam nutmegged him with nonchalant audacity. Marquinhos stepped in but with a drop of the shoulder, Sam shrugged him off. Before the Brazilian center back could blink, Sam was gone.
And then from thirty yards, Sam struck.
POW!
The stadium held its breath.
The ball screamed toward the top corner, sent on an impossible mission. For a moment, it flew dangerously close to its target but then Alisson flew on a countercharge and clawed it wide.
The whistle blew.
FWEEE!
[FULL-TIME: Nigeria 4-4 Brazil.]
What... a... game.
Players collapsed on the turf, spent but smiling. Vinícius hugged Sam, laughing. "One-season wonder, huh? You bastard, you’re a nightmare!"
Sam grinned back. "You finally admit it, huh?" He laughed. "See you in Spain."
Endrick shook his hand. "I’ll catch you soon."
Osimhen pulled Sam into a bear hug. "You motherf*cker, only you the ballon d’Or, two goals, two assists. You’re not just our king, you’re Africa’s freaking crown!"
Sam just laughed it off.
The fans refused to leave, still chanting long after the teams departed.
"Sam!" "Sam!" "Sam!"
What a memory tonight was for them.
That night, Nigeria hadn’t just honored their Ballon d’Or winner, they had shared him with the world, and he had answered with magic.