I spent most of the Portugal – Ghana match leaned against the railing thinking about my garden, wondering if my tomatoes and strawberries had turned red yet, whether there had been enough rain or people stopping by to water, and whether the wild animals of the neighbourhood had discovered my bounty.
Once in a while, I would pay attention to Ronaldo’s quick feet. To say that I was pleased to see him score would be an understatement. Too bad he plays for a horrid team. But I will never cheer fo Messi. No! van Persie or Robben will come way before him. Don’t know why. Maybe I am indeed superficial and he’s just not good looking enough. Ha! Ha!
But back to the game at hand. I had caught the second half of the USA – Portugal match after landing in Belo Horizonte a few days prior sure that Ghana’s hope were fully dashed until that last-minute goal by Portugal. I was happy that there would still be reason to go to Brasilia and watch Ghana play Portugal there. Ghana was still in. The odds were slim, but it was not over yet.
Then Wednesday morning, I heard about the charter plane full of millions of dollars being sent to Brasilia by the Ghanaian government to pay the players its arrears. I thought it had to be a joke because surely President Mahama has better things to do so I sent a Whatsapp message to my father in Ghana who found it equally incredulous. But it was not a joke. Later that evening, there was a picture on Twitter of the motor entourage accompanying the money to its destination after it had arrived in Brasilia. My heart dropped. This was soon followed by a picture of Boye kissing his share of the millions and I should have shed a tear. Yes, that Boye, the one responsible for the own goal against Ghana the following day. This was not good!
The morning of the game the little bit of hope I had left just fell apart. Breaking news alert from my ESPN app that both Muntari and Boateng had been suspended by the Ghana Football Association. GAME OVER!!!!
What a calamity. The slowly derailing train that was the Black Stars had finally gone off the tracks…there was no getting back on track now. I was disgusted, horrified, disturbed, annoyed, embarrassed, ashamed then disgusted, horrified, disturbed, annoyed, embarrassed, and ashamed all over again.
I gave serious thought as to whether I should wear my Ghana jersey to the stadium, but then I thought of the English and decided it would be poor sport of me not to. I sent off a conciliatory text message to the Americans I had been taunt-texting the whole time and then walked out into the Brasilia sun.
People were again chanting for Ghana. I wondered if they knew that the Black Stars run was over and the supposed heartthrob (not for me) KPB would not be on the field. I met a couple Ghanaians who still held out hope. Talking about Portugal is trash, Ghana will trash them and advance. I met Germans who were supporting Ghana in this match who tried to school me on a far-fetched scenario in which Germany would not advance out of the group.
When Ghana finally lost 2-1 to Portugal with the help of Boye’s own goal, it was clear that we were at the losers stadium. Ghana out. Portugal out. GAME OVER!!!!!
A lover of mangoes. A woman - smart, without pretense, lefthanded, Afropolitan - navigating this thing called life. An unapologetic believer in social justice and karma. Choosing to radiate positive energy and be true to myself. Here, my musings.
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