We failed in Rio because we planned to fail

I sat there, last Wednesday night, with eyes glued to the television set. If I were alone, I would have allowed the tears that gathered like a thick cloud to drop freely.
I have been told that crying doesn’t mean weakness. In fact, it’s a healthy business to cry any time need arises.
While the game lasted, I came close to doing just that several times; but I was surrounded by people who cared very little about the outcome of the match.
One of them was my little boy who was more interested in having the match come to an end so that he could watch his cartoons on Nick Junior Channel.
He refused to understand why I should deprive him of such holiday luxury since I returned from church that evening simply because some 22 young men were running around the field kicking a ball.
The constant question from him was: Daddy, when will the match end?
Talking about crying, how come Usain Bolt, the fastest man on earth, is always smiling while running?
Okay, let’s put it this way: at the beginning of the race, he would take off with such huge concentration; but just as the long strides propel him towards the finish line, the smile comes.
In all his races at the Rio Olympics in Brazil, the man who runs like detonated dynamite, always have time to turn to the nearest opponent and to either chat or smile in victory.
He does that with such ease and confidence that you would wonder whether he’s mocking his opponent.
The most unbelievable one was when he turned to De Grasse of Canada, in the semi-final of the 200 metres race last week, and did not only smile but seemed to be chatting with him before crossing the victory line.
It was as remarkable as it was unthinkable.
On Wednesday night, while he smiled his way to victory in the semi-final of the 200 metres race, I was soaked in tension with tears in my eyes. As seconds ticked away, I hoped for a miracle that refused to come.
As minutes sped past, I prayed for a breakthrough; but I knew I was hoping against hope.
When the first half of the match ended, I comforted myself with a feeling that having been down three goals to one in the 1996 Olympic soccer semi-final against Brazil, but still returned to win, we could do it again.
In the second half of the match, every move by the Nigerian team was thwarted by the Germans. From the midfield to the wings, I could see the never-give-up Nigerian spirit trampled upon by a superior German Machine.
If only we had the equaliser, the story would have been different.
Still I refused to give up. As the game moved into the final five minutes, I reassured myself that it was not over until it was over. Suddenly, it was over; and I hardly saw it coming.
I was so full of hope that I ignored the accelerated efforts by the Germans to wrap up the game with another goal in the victory pack.
When the Germans scored the second goal; I told my boy it was time for him to watch his cartoons for just five minutes before going to bed. The miracle goal did come; but it was not in our favour.
A few minutes later, despite every effort, the game was over. We lost. They won.
A lot of us were actually surprised that the Nigerian Dream Team went that far in the competition. It was not even supposed to qualify for the quarter finals.
Here was a team that was stranded in the United States for days because somebody back home refused to do the job he was hired to do.
The team finally arrived Brazil seven hours to its first match. Meanwhile, its Japanese opponent had spent days in Rio relaxing, studying videos and preparing on how to rattle the Nigerian team with a record defeat.
The Japanese, however, had the shock of their lives when the Nigerian team burst on the scene like wounded lions.
The Dream Team went into action with the decision to redeem the battered image of the nation and prove that individually, we can make all the difference. We were determined and ambitious.
Even our opponents, including Nigeria’s minister of sport, were shocked at our performance. We won the match 5-4.
In a country governed by people who believe in positive public image of the Nigeria, whoever was responsible for that international scandal in the U.S. should have been home by now; either through resignation or forcefully so.
That was one event that took Nigeria many years back in the perception of the right thinking members of the international community.
Nigeria is returning from the Rio Olympics empty handed. That again is not surprising. We were not prepared for medals.
While other countries were preparing and concentrating on their core areas of competence, we were busy quarrelling while planning how to fail; and failure we have achieved.
I recall what a commentator said during the official opening of the games. As soon as the U.S. delegation led by the swimming legend, Michael Phelps, was called, he said (paraphrased): Phelps has won more gold medals in swimming than a country like Nigeria has won in all years of its participation in Olympic events.
He was painfully right. That’s why the sports minister should resign; today or be sacked.