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It was Easter morning. I took my car to a car wash in Lagos mainland.

As I waited to be
attended to, I spied a young lad appear. He looked to be within the 14-
to 16-year-old bracket. He was from a building adjacent to where I was.
He hurriedly walked past. I noticed he was wearing a branded football
kit with the name Eto’o written conspicuously on the back. In his hand
was a pair of tattered running shoes.

There was no doubt
that the only thing on Shehu’s mind was getting to his destination: to
enjoy an Easter morning football outing with his friends.

As I watched him
hurry past and turn the corner, it suddenly occurred to me what
potential must lay buried within a young man like him. He could be one
of a millions gemstones, deep in the bowels of God-given mines, spread
across this nation waiting to be explored.

Alas! Here they
are, in my fatherland, wasting away ‑ a travesty of unimaginable
magnitude. For so many reasons. One is the non-existence of enough
well-equipped and trained age-grade football coaches, trainers and
administrators to, in a methodological manner, carry out this
assignment. It would have to line-upon-line, precept-upon-precept, I
reasoned.

Our great nation
also lacks sports journalists skilful in the art and science of writing
on issues concerning functional age-grade or grassroots football
development. This is one reason why there is no sensible sports
development pyramid structure, as far as I am concerned, in any of
Nigeria’s 36 states today.

Eventually, Shehu
appeared from the same street he had disappeared into minutes ago. This
time, there was frustration written visibly all over him. I knew
something was wrong and immediately decided to intervene.

“No football this morning?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“They did party where we play. There are broken bottles on the ground.”

“You like playing football?”

Shehu looked at me closely before replying. “Yes.”

“Which position do you play?”

“Forward.”

“Forward? Which is one is called forward?”

“Number 7.”

As we carried on
with our conversation, I moved over to my car and opened the boot.
Inside, I had a couple of training balls. There were at least four
various sizes. It was Shehu’s turn to question me as I picked and
started pumping one with my hand-held double action pump. I knew it was
fascinating to him.

“I like your pump. Are you a coach?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Where is your academy?”

He was disappointed to realise it: I wasn’t staying close to him. “So, how can I join your academy?”

Instead of
answering his question, I threw the ball on the ground, an action we
use in the Brazilian Soccer Schools to test how skilful footballers are
generally. I watched his reaction. He picked the ball up with his hand.
By this time, two other boys had joined us. I asked him if he realised
he could become a greater player than some of the popular European and
South American footballers. He answered in the affirmative but rather
impatiently. Me and my two friends here want to do some knock-about. So
enough of this conversation, Mr Coach!

Shehu dropped the
ball to his feet. He tried kicking it up, only for it to roll away from
him. One of the boys ran after the ball. He caught up with it and did a
‘step over’ move with it before passing it to Shehu, who received it
with his foot. Again, he picked the ball up with his hands. At this
point it was abundantly clear that he had not been taught the basic
rudiments of ball juggling.

I spent about 30
minutes teaching him and the other boys some very simple ball juggling
techniques. While this was going on, Shehu’s mother came around and
gave him some instructions. I exchanged some pleasantries with her and
then appealed to her to buy a Size 4 ball for my friend. She promised
to do so. I believe her.

Eventually, the sad
moment came for me to go. I promised to see Shehu again very soon. He
asked for my telephone number. I gave him my card. I would receive a
call from him only one hour after our meeting.

As I drove off, I felt very fulfilled but wondered how many Nigerian
children needed to be exposed to the type of experience Shehu and the
two boys just had with me. Then I remembered the meeting I had with
Koye Sowemimo of Polygon Sports, in London, on the need for us to, as a
matter of utmost urgency, introduce the Coerver® Coaching system to
millions of our young ones at the grassroots level. To millions of such
in this country, I promise to spend and be spent for you all ‑ in order
to save Nigerian football from further decline. So help me, God.