A bad atmosphere can be waited out. A group of people meeting afterwards to decide what to do about it cannot, and everybody in the building knows which stage this is.
Nobody at Barau will say this on the record and the team sheets have been saying it for weeks. There is a small group in every squad who get picked when the fixture is difficult, and he has joined it.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Barau know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Barau is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Barau can pretend not to have heard.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Barau this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Nobody will confirm it and the team sheets confirm it every week. One error has bought him a spell as second choice that is already longer than the error deserved.
A bad atmosphere can be waited out. A group of people meeting afterwards to decide what to do about it cannot, and everybody in the building knows which stage this is.
The board have said in public what they had been saying in private. Results between now and the next meeting decide it, and everybody in the building knows the arithmetic.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Barau this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
It is never announced and it is entirely visible: the biggest afternoons of the season keep containing him. A press box works this out long before anybody at the club confirms a word of it.
Every squad has men who were signed by a particular manager and men who were merely inherited. Leon Collins is in the first group, and the man who wanted him here is no longer in the building.
He trains hard, says the right things and goes home to an empty flat. Nobody at Barau has done anything wrong, which is exactly what makes it so difficult to fix.
It has been denied twice and printed three times, which is the usual arithmetic. Until Loiange Ondoa signs something — a contract at Barau or anywhere else — this column belongs to him.
Serge Obassa has been around long enough to know what the spring feels like when it goes wrong, and he can feel it. A dressing room that is frightened plays like one.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Barau can pretend not to have heard.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Barau have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
Chukwuma Nwakali was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
Every squad is half players the manager chose and half players he inherited. Leon Collins was chosen, the man who chose him has gone, and he starts again from nothing under the next one.
A year in and the language has not come, the city has not opened up, and he eats alone more often than anybody at Barau would like to admit. It is showing on Saturdays.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Barau know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
A bad atmosphere can be waited out. A group of people meeting afterwards to decide what to do about it cannot, and everybody in the building knows which stage this is.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Barau this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Every manager keeps a short list in his head of the men he wants on the pitch when the stakes rise, and it is never published. The team sheets for the big afternoons say Serge Obassa is on it.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Stephen Simon is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
Nothing in writing and nothing in public: a word about playing time, given face to face at Barau. The team sheets over the next month will show whether it was worth having.
The table has started to be checked before the results are in, and that is always the tell. Nobody at Barau says the word out loud, and everybody in the building is thinking it.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Barau can pretend not to have heard.
Thabiso Msele was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
“I never wanted to be anywhere else. There is unfinished business here.” David Onuachu commits to Barau for another 3 years.
The dugout4 Oct 2032
The view from the dugout
“We will look at it, we will learn from it, and we go again.” The three sentences every manager keeps for a 1‑2 defeat, delivered by Victor Babatunde to a room that had heard them before.
Four or five weekends of consistency, judged against everybody in the division doing his job. Ndidi Olayinka has come out of that comparison in the side, and Barau have had the benefit of every one of those afternoons.
In brief
The dugoutSomebody else is better right now than Dennis Ejuke
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Barau is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Match29 May 2032
Nobody could stop scoring
7 goals. Both benches spent the second half looking at each other rather than at the pitch. Purists will complain about Barau and Remo Stars in equal measure; everybody else had a wonderful time.
Whether it was the goalkeeper or the ten in front of him is the argument that will fill every conversation in town this week. 4 saves does not settle it either way.
Marked 6.73 on 9 actions at both ends of the pitch. Midfielders like this get described as unspectacular by people who have never tried to play against one.
“The supporters are entitled to be angry. So am I. We will put it right.” 0‑7, a manager saying the necessary things, and a dressing room that heard a different version of them.
A bad atmosphere can be waited out. A group of people meeting afterwards to decide what to do about it cannot, and everybody in the building knows which stage this is.
0‑5 to Kwara United, and it was every bit as bad as the number suggests. There are defeats you argue about and defeats you apologise for; this was the second kind.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Barau this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
“We were not good enough today and I am not going to dress it up.” Victor Babatunde after 0‑5, in the tone of a man who knows the next question and does not intend to answer it.
Beaten 5 times, with 4 saves for company. Goalkeepers carry these scorelines on their record whoever actually caused them, which is the quiet injustice of the job.
Somebody else has been better, the manager has said so with a team sheet, and there is no argument to be had. He will get the shirt back the only way it can be got back.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Barau is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
Chukwuma Nwakali was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
The dugout19 Apr 2032
The manager’s verdict
“I am frustrated, honestly. We did enough to win and we did not win.” Victor Babatunde was not hiding it after 0‑0, and nobody in the Barau dressing room was either.
Position 19 and 6 points, and the table gets read bottom-up in this part of town. The calendar has stopped being a schedule and started being a countdown.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Barau they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
3 games without scoring. Strikers stop looking up, midfielders take the extra touch, and every shot that clears the bar is followed by a groan that has been building since the last goal.
Thabiso Msele was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
“We were not good enough today and I am not going to dress it up.” Victor Babatunde after 0‑2, in the tone of a man who knows the next question and does not intend to answer it.
0‑3 against Kun Khalifat, and no complaints that would survive the replay. The manager spoke about character afterwards; the terraces used shorter words.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Barau have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
“We were not good enough today and I am not going to dress it up.” Victor Babatunde after 0‑3, in the tone of a man who knows the next question and does not intend to answer it.
It is never announced and it is entirely visible: the biggest afternoons of the season keep containing him. A press box works this out long before anybody at the club confirms a word of it.
He is the name in every column and on every phone-in, which is a heavy thing to carry at any age. Some footballers thrive on it; others are quietly finished by it.
0‑3 to Bendel Insurance, and it was every bit as bad as the number suggests. There are defeats you argue about and defeats you apologise for; this was the second kind.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Luís Alberto will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Barau the goodbyes have quietly begun.
Thabiso Msele and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
The door stayed shut a long time after the final whistle. What was said in there is between them; whether it worked is between them and Saturday.
The dugout8 Mar 2032
The manager’s verdict
“That is on me. I pick the team and I picked wrong.” Managers say that when they mean it and when they need to be seen to, and after 0‑3 Victor Babatunde left the room before anybody could ask which.
A month is long enough that nobody gets in by accident. Chukwuma Nwakali is in the division's best eleven for it, which is a quieter compliment than an award and a more reliable one.
In brief
The dugoutDennis Ejuke dropped after a run of poor form