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In the evening hours, at the National Stadium in Abuja, Samson Siasia, the Super Eagles manager, will lead his players out in a crucial 2012 Africa Cup of Nations qualifier against Ethiopia, his first competitive match since taking charge of the team in December.

Unsurprisingly, the Eagles’ performance in that game will be the topic of choice for football’s chattering classes, considering their parlous state since last year’s World Cup disaster and the country’s desperate desire to see the team return to the flamboyant form of yesteryear.

But besides hoping, of course, that they earn the needed win, the team’s ‘exile’ to that overpriced concrete contraption called a stadium in Abuja, a place without a football culture, ethos and soul, evokes deep and bitter feelings in me.

Any genuine connoisseur of our game knows the National Stadium in Surulere, Lagos, criminally neglected by our federal government – as its decrepit, ugly form hauntingly reminds us – is our real theatre of dreams and Nigerian football’s spiritual home.

Who can forget the pleasurable and anguished moments on its hallowed but now patchy, miserable looking turf?

It staged our first Africa Cup of Nations triumph in 1980, when, to the delight of over 60,000 fans, Green Eagles captain Christian Chukwu proudly walked up to the arena’s state box to lift the Cup of Unity.

And who can forget August 12, 1989, when, amongst thousands of other fans in the terraces, I unknowingly watched midfielder Samuel Okwaraji convulse, collapse and die on its turf, in that unforgettable, tragic 1990 World Cup qualifier against Angola.

Or how Nigeria’s painful failure to win the 2000 Nations Cup final – after Victor Ikpeba’s penalty goal against Cameroun that never was – made captain Sunday Oliseh weep like a newborn baby?

“I cannot begin to recall all the important moments of my life, and in the lives of many great footballers, that took place in that stadium. That the ground is in its current state leaves me with nothing to say,” says former Nigeria captain Segun Odegbami.

And the dilapidated state of the stadium is made all the more poignant by its healthier, smaller next door neighbour – Teslim Balogun Stadium, the only decent football ground in Nigeria’s largest city.

After the Eagles’ unbelievable eight-year absence from the city, the recent friendly game against Sierra Leone, at the Balogun ground, served as a timely reminder, at least to me, of how the national team’s return to Lagos is the key to reviving its dwindling fortunes.

Given a bad rap

Rather than mollycoddle the present set of Eagles, some of whom are risk-averse and have to be pampered into doing their very minimum for the country – and hoping that they can get away with it in Abuja, where the crowd is quite temperate, putting the players feet to the searing Lagos fire will certainly improve the team’s work ethic.

Given a bad rap by previous FAs for their refusal to ‘blindly’ support the national team whilst playing at Sports City, as the National Stadium is nicknamed, Lagos fans are, unfairly, being given the proverbial bad name in order to ‘hang’ them.

The unadorned truth is that whilst a bit unruly at times, Lagos fans demand top draw performances from those wearing the colours of our country and are intolerant of sloppiness or an obvious lack of commitment. Lagos fans, at least most of them, can tell the difference between a national team that loses gallantly, after giving everything they’ve got and one that just couldn’t be bothered to deliver.

Why should their loyalty and support of the Super Eagles not come at the price of excellence and diligence?

The nauseating state of the National Stadium continues to offer an excuse for the Nigerian Football Federation, which points to the artificial turf at Teslim Balogun, admittedly not as good as a natural surface, as a reason not to stage competitive games in Lagos.