You thought it was over?
After Sam singlehandedly stole the headlines in a ga of tight margins against Atletico Madrid, stealing the win from Atleti’s Wolf jaws?
After scoring the goal of the season reminiscent of ssi’s Getafe goal and Maradona’s Hand of God goal against England?
Hell nah, think again.
The world of football would rave about that goal, they would discuss it endlessly, dissect it to the most minute details before they would finally rest.
And even after that, they would keep on discussing it because that was simply a goal that could not be forgotten. That was a kind of goal that defines childhoods, that creates unforgettable adult mories.
For every child in Riyadh who watched that goal, heck, for every child who watched the ga through their parents’ TV, they would never forget it.
Watching one guy slaloming through the opposition team had this ability of triggering dopamine and adrenaline. Watching him go against grown n just like him, and tear them apart with skill, there was sothing primal to it.
Sothing that resonated with the man in every boy, with the alpha in every father, and with the ambition in every footballer.
Watching their parents jump for joy after the ball went in, instinctively joining the celebrations themselves, these children created mories of a lifeti that they would never forget.
That was what Sam did on the night, and it was not sothing regular, it was a feat as rare as phoenix feathers, and so, the dia would rave.
The morning after Riyadh did not wake gently, it literally exploded.
From Lagos to London, from Madrid to Miami, every headline blazed with the sa image... Samuel Moses, arms stretched wide, Supercopa raised above his head, the Nigerian flag draped across his shoulders.
The wondergoal had gone viral before dawn. By sunrise, it was stuff of myths and legends.
Marca (Spain): ["Un Dios en Riyadh: Samuel Moses Wins Supercopa with Goal of the Century!"]
AS (Spain): ["Atlético Build a Wall, but Moses Walks Through It."]
The Guardian (UK): ["From Abraka to Olympus: Samuel Moses, Football’s New Immortal."
Punch Nigeria: ["Our Son, Our Pride: Samuel Moses Lifts Barça, Lifts Africa."]
L’Equipe (France): ["Maradona, ssi... Moses?"]
Social dia? It was a battlefield.
Hashtags trended worldwide: #FootballGod #SupercopaFinal #SamMoses.
By now, if there was any doubt who the Ballon d’Or favorite was in this new season after Sam claid his first Ballon d’Or award for his last season’s performance, by now, there was no more debate.
At the mont, unless sothing drastic happened in world football like FC Barcelona being eliminated early from the UEFA Champions League, Sam was on his way towards swaggering to a 2nd straight Ballon d’Or win.
By now, there were no more doubts; this truly was his era.
This was the Samuel Moses era.
Clips of the goal were everywhere on social dia, edited into ani fight scenes, replayed with operatic music, slowed to fra-by-fra dissections.
The engagents? Borderline crazy.
One viral post read. "Lenglet turned into a traffic cone, Barrios a training dummy. Oblak? He was just a silhouette... greatness!"
Another simply captioned. "This isn’t football anymore, this is prophecy."
Lionel ssi, watching from Miami, posted again. "That was special, Sam. Reminded of sothing... but it was yours. Congratulations, crack."
Cristiano Ronaldo tweeted again as the attention of the world narrowed on the significant event that happened in Riyadh. "This is why football never dies, its because of magic like this. Congratulations, Samuel."
Didier Drogba called into an African sports channel live, his voice heavy with pride. "We waited for an African player to do this, to dominate Europe, to win finals, to be the na on every lip".
"Well, Sam has opened the door wider than ever before."
...
In Madrid, the defeat stung like acid.
Diego Sione scowled at reporters, refusing to repeat "the goal" more than once. "We did everything right for 92 minutes," he said before shaking his head. "But sotis, one man changes destiny."
Atlético fans seethed online, half furious and half awestruck. One viral comnt read. "We hate him. But God, we respect him."
Real Madrid, watching from afar, sharpened knives. They could feel their archrivals blazing fiercer than ever before, and they didn’t want to be left behind.
Vinícius sneered into a cara after training. "Enjoy the trophy. The league and Champions League? That is a different story."
Bellingham echoed the fire, no longer willing to back down. "Let him have his mont, we’ll take the big ones."
...
In Catalonia, murals went up overnight: Sam’s silhouette, mid-chip, painted across walls with the words. "El Déu del Futbol."
At Ciutat Esportiva, Hansi Flick addressed the press. "We’re fortunate. He is special, yes, but this is not a one-man team. This is Barcelona."
Sam, cornered by journalists at the airport, kept his composure. "It was a good goal, yes, but the trophy matters more. I’m proud of the team, we fought until the very end."
But his smile gave him away; he knew what he’d done.
...
The celebrations also blazed in Nigeria.
In Abraka, children played barefoot in the dust, shouting. "I am Sam Moses!"
"No, I am!" They argued.
Every trick, every rainbow flick, every roulette, they tried to recreate the impossible that Sam had made possible in the big stage.
In Lagos, viewing centers replayed the goal on loop. Beer spilled, n shouted, won sang, and whole neighborhoods ca alive with joy.
Even the Nigerian President tweeted, though Sam may not have appreciated that gesture very much.
...
And then, finally back in Barcelona, Sam reached his apartnt with Kayla as she ca back with him after the final goal. The noise of the world faded again at ho, just for a mont.
He dropped onto the couch, a replica of the trophy that he made to relive the mont gleaming on the table before him. Kayla curled up beside him, scrolling her phone.
"You’ve broken the internet again," she teased. "Half the world thinks you’re an alien."
Sam chuckled, rubbing his temple. "If only aliens got this tired."
She nudged him. "So? How does it feel?"
He looked at the trophy, then at her, then closed his eyes. "Like... the beginning of sothing even bigger."
Kayla smiled softly. "Then keep going, Football God."
Sam leaned back, his heartbeat steady now. The firestorm raged outside, but inside, he was calm.
Reviews
All reviews (0)