Ken opened his wallet and counted out twenty crisp one-thousand-naira notes; his full allowance for the week.
Without hesitation, he handed them over to the referee who acted as the neutral party, middleman, and iron-fisted dictator of the match.
That was how street football worked in Nigeria. No contracts, no committees; just pride, skill, and cash on the line.
On the other end, the boy with the sharp mouth, the same one who had insulted his team earlier matched the stake, peeling off his bundle of cash and handing it to the referee.
'These boys don't know who I am,' he thought, his blood surging with confidence. It was time to unleash his inner Ankara Messi.
There was no time wasting.
The match resumed.
[Scoreline: 0-0.]
[Wager: 20,000 naira.]
[Format: Classic four-a-side; two forwards, one defender, and a goalkeeper.]
It was the kind of fierce, no-nonsense football that turned boys into legends.
From the moment the game restarted, the heat was on. And it was clear immediately that this game was unlike the previous one that they played.
First of all, the stakes were now high, and Ken was driven now.
The game barely started when Ken called for the ball, loud and clear and his teammate obeyed.
The first opponent came charging in, but then...
Zidane's roulette!
Ken spun on the ball with elegant precision, leaving the boy flat-footed and chasing shadows.
The second opponent, none other than the sharp-mouthed kid rushed in aggressively. A feint to the left, which was sharply followed by a swift lane change to the right. The kind of footwork Messi would applaud.
The crowd exploded.
"Ooooooouuuuhhh!"
Humiliated, the boy tried to stomp on Ken in retaliation. But he jumped, easily evading the dirty tackle.
The third player, their last line of defense, stood his ground. Another feint, then a no-look pass to the right wing.
"1-2 pass!" Ken shouted as soon as he played the ball out.
His teammate didn't dally around.
The return came sharp and clean, a grounded through ball slicing the defense. Suddenly one on one with the goalkeeper, he kept his cool and slotted it low into the bottom left corner of the tiny post.
1-0.
The crowd erupted.
With that goal, the game intensified. The air buzzed with excitement, sweat, and dust. The sun bore down mercilessly, but Ken was on fire.
Receiving the ball again, he could feel the opposition's eyes locked on him, especially the sharp-tongued boy. They were wary now, apprehensive even, but he thrived on their attention, and on the now high stakes of the game.
With showman flair, he pulled off a rainbow flick, the ball soaring over his own head and the defender's before he dashed around to reclaim it.
Another eruption came from the crowd in reaction to the skill move.
Ken weaved his way through two more defenders with fluid, effortless dribbles. Spotting a teammate in space, he laid off a precise pass which was accompanied by a clean finish.
2-0.
"Good strike!" Ken laughed, going to shake hands with his teammate who scored the goal.
They were dominating, and he could see the frustration on the faces of their opponents. But the game was far from over.
The game restarted and the intensity only increased. The ball moved rapidly across the makeshift field with both teams fighting fiercely for control.
But once again, amid the chaos, Ken thrived as he intercepted a pass before swiftly changing direction to avoid an incoming tackle. The rush of the game was intoxicating, and he felt invincible due to it.
From where he stood, he saw an opportunity, the goalkeeper strayed out of the post slightly and he took a shot from outside the box without hesitation.
The ball sailed through the air, curving slightly before hitting the top corner of the net.
"Goalllll!" This time, Ken could not holding himself, screaming as he turned to face the opponent who mocked his team earlier.
"Who's the kid now? Who's the kid now, huh?" he taunted.
The boy didn't reply, he was probably too ashamed to talk back.
The mode in Ken's team was a flying one. In contrast, frustration flared on the opposing side. They didn't give up though. Rather, they regrouped and came back with even more aggression, but Ken's team held strong, until they didn't.
A swift counterattack. Goal. 3-1.
Another lapse in defense. 3-2.
Then came the equalizer, 3-3. Panic crept in.
"Talk now!" The sharp-mouthed boy taunted, screaming in Ken's face. "You were loud before, abi?" He asked in pidgin. "Speak now, big man!"
With the pressure now firmly on his shoulders, Ken tried to rally his team. "C'mon boys, we can do this!"
But pride comes with a price.
The same loudmouth got the ball and came straight at him. Fueled by emotion, Ken lunged in but was nutmegged cleanly.
"Ohhhhh!" The crowd exclaimed loudly, leaving him burning in shame.
He hit the ground, fist slamming into the earth in frustration.
Before he could recover, the boy curled in a beautiful shot to the bottom right corner.
3-4. They were now behind.
The boy celebrated with wild abandon, throwing mocking glances at him.
But he wasn't done.
Ken got the ball back on the restart, surged forward with raw determination, and danced past two forwards. Then came the sombrero, a cheeky lift over the final defender's head followed by a bicycle kick that thundered into the net.
4-4.
"Game onnnn!" Ken screamed, heart pounding.
Time was running out.
"One minute left!" The referee announced.
There would be no penalties, not if Ken had a say in it. He didn't trust fate, he would rather trust his feet.
He intercepted a sloppy pass, glided past the last man and found himself face to face with the goalkeeper again.
Deep breath.
Ken struck the ball. It curled into the top left, into the net.
"Suiiiiiiiiiiii!" He yelled, running wild in celebration, mimicking Cristiano Ronaldo's iconic move.
5-4.
The final whistle blew.
Victory.
He collected the money as the crowd buzzed with admiration. His opponents approached him, heads bowed, not in shame but in respect.
"Man, you're something else," one of them said, still in disbelief.
"Yeah, you schooled us," another added.
Even the sharp-mouthed boy swallowed his pride. "Respect bro, you earned it".
He nodded. "Good game. It was a close one".
As he walked away from the field, cash in hand, pride in his chest, he knew one thing for certain.
This was only the beginning.