We are probably witnessing the best team performance by a senior Nigerian side in recent times—especially across the last two matches.
I had just finished penning my thoughts last night and went to bed, hoping to share them this morning. When I woke up, as usual, I rummaged through my favourite online platforms for news. My final stop was
africa.espn.com, where I stumbled on a videocast by my friend and “brother from another mother”, Colin Udoh. He paid glowing tribute to the current Super Eagles team, calling it the best football ever played by a Nigerian side.
I smiled. At least I wasn’t alone in my thoughts. I immediately returned to my iPad to edit my write-up and acknowledge his commentary. Truth is, I was one of those who had given up on the Super Eagles. I thought the appointment of Eric Chelle was a mistake.
I remember watching the team labour to beat Rwanda in Uyo. All our attacking play was funnelled through the left flank, while the right wing was completely ignored. It reminded me of our childhood backyard football—monkey post—where everyone crowded around wherever the ball was. We played “where belle face” in chaotic kick-and-follow fashion.
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But I left the stadium convinced our coach was clueless. In my mind, how could he not see what was happening on the pitch and fix it?
Then came the World Cup qualification lottery, where we lost to DR Congo—and our coach cried foul, claiming the Congolese used voodoo to beat us. It sounded comical.
Heading into AFCON, I programmed my mind to simply enjoy the spectacle and accept whatever came. I adopted what I call the 9th Beatitude: “Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall not be disappointed.”
Yet, despite my scepticism, I found myself quietly impressed as the team began to gel from match to match. The first half against Tunisia was a masterclass in football artistry. I pinched myself. The Eagles were showing signs of promise.
But the near-collapse in the second half brought my doubts roaring back.
When we then faced Mozambique and clobbered them, I treated it like a Volkswagen Beetle challenging a Mercedes G-Waggon on the newly completed Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway.
Then came the nauseating antics of our vice-captain, Victor Osimhen, which briefly stole the spotlight and dimmed the collective brilliance of the team. Thankfully, he later climbed down from that high horse.
Next were the Desert Foxes of Algeria—led by a fading Riyad Mahrez and Luca Zidane, son of the legendary Zinedine Zidane, in goal. Their players and fans promised to send us to Sambisa Forest.
Quietly, most Nigerians prayed Osimhen would drink some ice-cold water, calm his fraying nerves, and return to what he does best: play football and score goals.
Even the players themselves seemed unsure of their chances. Hence the protest over unpaid bonuses and allowances.
It took the large-heartedness of Wilfred Ndidi—who reportedly pledged to personally cover the team’s entitlements if the NFF failed. Do you blame the players? Nigerian football has a long history of administrators defaulting on payments. I know this firsthand. As a young man in the state and national leagues, my teammates and I had our fair share of rampages over unpaid entitlements.
Back on the pitch, the loquacious Algerians “no see ball play”. They resorted to rough tackles and theatrical antics.
As the African proverb says, “Man wey no plan him life well go say na witchcraft dey worry am.”
They blamed witchcraft. But they promised Sambisa Forest and ended up in Akai Ukana Offot instead.
From a reborn Alex Iwobi to the tank-like Calvin Bassey to the new kid Akor Adams, everybody is balling. Even Chief Stanley Nwabali had minimal opportunity to get himself into trouble, though he still managed to collect a needless yellow card.
The Eagles were enjoying themselves so much that Akor Adams even found time to pay tribute—via a motionless celebration—to Patrice Lumumba, echoing the now-iconic stance popularised at AFCON 2025.
At this point, the rest of Africa must secretly be wishing CAF and FIFA could find a way to smuggle Nigeria into the World Cup.
Yet, as I write all these praises of the “reborn Super Eagles”, I pause.
Is it too early to beat the drums?
What if this is just a run of useful mistakes?
What if the opponents simply weren’t good enough?
So, I will hold my breath until the end of the tournament before making my final judgement.
But whatever the case, one thing is clear:
Eric Chelle is finally balling.
And long may it last
Sir Charles Udoh is Brand & Marketing Communications Strategist, Creative Economy Advocate and Football Enthusiast
