Yesterday, the political world witnessed what can only be described as the most lopsided football match since secondary school inter-house sports.
Venue: Federal Capital Territory.
Occasion: The FCT Cup Final.
Teams: The Coalition All Stars vs One Man United.
The Coalition All Stars arrived in style. Three ace strikers warming up dramatically:
Atiku Abubakar adjusting his captain’s armband.
Peter Obi stretching like a man prepared to run 90 minutes on fiscal discipline.
Rotimi Amaechi pacing like a midfield general ready to launch long balls.
The crowd held its breath.
APC looked almost unserious. They didn’t send a full squad. They didn’t even pretend to warm up substitutes.
They simply sent one man.
Nyesom Wike.
No backup strikers.
No dramatic entry music.
Just vibes, gumption, and that unmistakable River State midfield aggression.
Whistle blows.
By the 10th minute, Wike had scored.
By halftime, it was a training session.
By full time, statisticians were asking for mercy.
Possession: 85% to 15%.
Shots on target: 50 to 2.
Corners: 25 to 0.
Fouls: 3 to 36.
Goals: 45 to 3.
At some point, even neutral fans started feeling uncomfortable. Because how do you explain three heavyweight strikers being outplayed by a single midfielder who looked like he came to settle a personal score?
The most painful stat wasn’t even the goals.
It was the crowd.
Dominant stadium chant: On your mandate we shall stand.
You know a match is over when the fans start singing before the referee blows the whistle.
Now here is the kicker.
If three seasoned political gladiators cannot outmaneuver one Wike in a territory the size of a well-designed estate, how exactly are they planning to face a full national squad?
Because outside that FCT stadium, waiting patiently, are:
Bola Tinubu the self-styled Jagaban, long-distance strategist.
Kashim Shettima calm, calculating.
Hope Uzodinma experienced in rough pitches.
Abba Kabir Yusuf holding down Kano’s midfield.
Hyacinth Alia steady in defense.
Umo Eno quietly strategic.
Dapo Abiodun sharp on the wings.
That is not a local five-a-side. That is a continental tournament.
And if FCT was the qualifier round, what we just witnessed was not encouraging.
Let us also talk discipline.
36 fouls.
Thirty-six.
At some point, it stopped being football and started looking like frustration management therapy. When your opponent keeps dribbling past you, you either rethink strategy or you start kicking shins.
The coalition clearly chose option two.
Now here’s what makes it even funnier. This outing was advertised as unity. As proof that they had finally figured out how to move together.
Instead, it looked like three strikers all demanding the ball at once. No passing rhythm. No midfield control. No defensive line. Just overlapping ambitions colliding mid-air.
Meanwhile, Wike played like a man who had memorized the pitch dimensions.
He didn’t shout.
He didn’t panic.
He simply converted chances.
Politics is not Twitter Space.
It is not moral applause.
It is not crowd noise.
It is structure.
It is ground game.
It is who can turn 15% possession into 45 goals.
But let’s be honest for a second.
Was this match a fluke?
Or was it a preview?
Because if this is how the All Stars perform in a controlled environment, what happens when the national stadium lights come on?
In football terms, this was not just a loss.
It was a tactical lecture.
And in Nigerian politics, the scoreboard matters.
The FCT has spoken in numbers.
And numbers, unlike press conferences, do not argue.
Now the nation waits for the next fixture.
But one thing is certain.
After this match, nobody will underestimate a team that sends “only Wike” ever again.
And somewhere in the stands, someone quietly whispered.
If they cannot beat ordinary Wike in small FCT… how exactly do they plan to beat the full league?
That whisper might just be the loudest chant of all.
Three Against One… And Still 45 Goals Down.
Stephanie Shaakaa
08034861434
