THE RADIANCE OF THE CUP

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

The magic, and allure of Cup football persists all over the world – with virtually every nation having its own major cup competitions usually won by the most prestigious clubs in the elite division. It might well be that “colonial mentality” will always be at work consciously or perhaps in subtle fashion, but even till date most of the world continues to look up to the English Cup competitions in particular!

Hence the FA Cup in England historically takes precedence over virtually every other Cup competition, including the Spanish one and the definitely overblown American version. Nigeria has treasured its own version of the Cup (indeed the Nigerian Challenge Cup was extraordinarily popular decades ago). Then there is the “second” Cup competition in England usually called the League Cup which continues to change its name regularly.

South Africa interestingly has so many Cup competitions that one might even suggest that it beggars belief; but that is what the fans want. There is a Cup for the “best 8” in the league annually; there are major cup competitions like the Nedbank Cup and the Telkom KO trophy. Then there are the “pre-season” cups which often feature international giants like Manchester United playing one of the big SA clubs. In most cases, the big clubs here – Orlando Pirates, Kaizer Chiefs, Mamelodi Sundowns or even Supersport, are the ones who get to the final of these cup competitions which are real money-spinners. And the sponsors chip in yearly with millions of rands to buoy these competitions.

Nowadays the world raves about the super-rich clubs being bought and sponsored by billionaires – clubs like Chelsea and Manchester City in England; but Nigerians have always had charismatic rich club proprietors who pump gargantuan amounts of money into their clubs. Who can ever forget the late flamboyant Chief MKO Abiola for example, who started the glamorous Abiola Babes – and bought many of the best footballers around at the time?

A few years before Abiola did this though there was Leventis United in Ibadan which also spent prodigious amounts on fine players during its relatively short-lived existence. The club made its mark in local Cup and international cup competitions, even getting to the final of the African Cup Winners Cup in the 80s. And ah – Iwuanyanwu Nationale! Note the cosmopolitan name as the owner (Chief Iwuanyanwu) invested extraordinarily in the club in those days.

Such expensively assembled clubs often realise that they are unlikely to win the (national) leagues immediately but they always fancy themselves in cup competitions; as witness the delight of Manchester City when after many decades of winning nothing, they won the English FA Cup last year; (soon to be followed by the premiership itself) But for quintessential thrills and spills nothing, it seems can beat cup football.

As I write, the final of the South African Telkom KO cup – a major cup – is just around the corner. So many excellent games have been served up thus far and two clubs will be contesting the final: Mamelodi Sundowns and Bloemfontein Celtic. Now I must admit some excitement over this, since I am normally based in Bloemfontein city; and Bloem Celtic is a charismatic club.

Often dubbed such intriguing names like Siwelele and Masokolara by the denizens here, Bloemfontein Celtic has in the main been ensconced in the national premiership for decades. What the club is most famous for is the supporters; a cascade of fervent, rollicking, happy-go-lucky, chirpy green and white-festooned males and females. So many of the fans almost literally live and breathe their club and are mines of every conceivable information on the club. I myself have published countless articles over the years on Bloemfontein Celtic, and though I am supposed to be professionally neutral as regards the club, that has never been the case!

It is not “every day”, as it were, that Bloem Celtic manage to get to the final of a major Cup competition as they have done this year; hence the celebrations, jabulane, can be imagined! The hordes are definitely looking forward to the final of the Cup with Mamelodi Sundowns this weekend. What a great occasion this would be!
PIX above: Effervescent Bloem Celtic fans

THE HONEY TRAP

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

When I was in my early teens, a rather starry-eyed pupil at Lagelu Grammar School in Oyo State, I had an Uncle who was always galvanized us into stitches whenever he chanced to be around! A warm, effervescent gentleman who never looked down on we kids. In fact he loved us and talked to us many a time as if we were adults too.

And herein lay the crux of a consequent “problem”. Other elders always had this tinge of uneasiness whenever Uncle was around, realizing that he could say just about anything, even the prurient, to us the young ones. But for me, Uncle was a veritable mine of information especially when it came to what then seemed like gripping comments on the fairer sex!

I remember that he was fond of using the expression “the honey trap” to describe the allure and enchantment of certain ladies. But he actually went further to explain the term, even localizing it in the world of espionage. As Uncle said: “You see, worldwide the easiest way of getting to a man, especially a man who is a crook or criminal is to use a woman to bring him down. In espionage for many years, lovely women have been used to seduce men and even arrest them. And oh, such scandals in ‘advanced’ countries! Like Profumo!” Uncle gave me a particular document on the erstwhile Profumo Scandal, with Christine Keeler pivotal.

I must confess that the phrase “the honey trap” is one that I do not think I have ever used in my writings over the years, despite being introduced to the concept by Uncle many years ago as a kid. But I found myself thinking of this phrase in recent times after a spate of arrests and clampdowns on foreigners, especially Nigerians, in South Africa.

When foreigners in Diaspora, including Nigerians here talk about the sudden, precipitate arrest of a particular “brother”, in most cases one can be sure that a woman would be pin-pointed as being responsible for the guy being nabbed on some sort of charges which might be trumped-up. “You don hear that your brother dey for jail now?” No. “Dey don arrest am; na ‘im woman betray him… suddenly she brought the police etc to the guy’s place.” Apparently she sung like a canary and the guy found himself behind bars!

Yet there is something very unsavoury about it: in virtually all the cases the man has really fallen for the woman, gone to great lengths to cater, take care of her, shared “secrets” with her – not knowing the lady was an informer in cahoots with the law enforcement agents! This much some of my police friends have confirmed to me - that they often use the “honey trap” trick to round up ‘undesirable foreigners’.

As one of my police chums told me: “Ag, it is not as if the end of the world has come; these guys are criminals who have done bad things, and the easiest way to get at them is through ladies…we can use ‘ordinary’, women or actual attractive trained female officers to track these guys down,” Let me state categorically at this juncture that I have no problem with criminals being rounded up

But it does get my goat when it appears that in so many cases the man is actually a law-abiding, decent person and despite this he finds himself in gaol because of a woman pretending to love him; smacking of a frame-up or trumped up charges. I have a particular recent episode in mind. I know the pertinent gentleman, an Igbo man, and no one can convince me that the guy was engaged in any illicit business. And I could also have sworn that his woman dearly loved him. Then one day I noticed his office had been securely locked up, and news spread that the gentleman was in jail.

And all his closest friends were united that it was the woman in his life who was responsible for his plight. I contested this in the beginning, thinking about how the man used to tell me again and again how much he loved the woman in question, how wonderful she was and how both of them could do anything for each other. “I don’t believe it,” I said. “That woman really loved him,”

“My brother, pls don’t argue with us,” his closest friends said. “We were there when the woman came with the police, showed them his office, helped them pack his things and made terrible accusations against him in public. She never loved him. She was just pretending, using him… (The man) even cried like a baby in his prison cell when he realized this,”

I was speechless.

(Above pix: Christine Keeler of the infamous Profumo Scandal)

THE INADVERTENT MISERY

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

I savored the ambience of this area – in the heart of the South African location (townships) again. It was an area I had not been to for many months’. Now I was here inadvertently having just met an acquaintance here who had to return a document to me.

I also decided to drop in on the family of Moshe (not his real name); to wit his mother and siblings. I had been somewhat of a family friend for years. Moshe no longer lived here at the family home, but it would be churlish indeed for me to be very near their place without paying a courtesy visit to the mother at least.

The house was just a few buildings away from where I was, near the derelict public telephone. I moved forward a few paces and suddenly Mike, the younger brother of Moshe materialized very near me! We exchanged greetings. I thought that he was no longer a “small boy” – in fact he was not only a policeman now, but a father to boot.

It was clear that Mike was not on duty now. He was as friendly as ever, even inviting me for a drink “at a nearby pub”. But I told him that I wanted to enter their house and say hello to their mother, “I have not seen her for a long time. I can’t come to your area without greeting her. She’s at home?”

There was an uneasy pause. Mike stared at the ground. What was this? Then he said: “Mama is at home, but I’m afraid you can’t see her. She won’t want to see you, Ntate. She’s quite angry with you – “

I winced. What could I have done wrong? Mike went on” You see, my brother, Moshe is in the hospital. His wife attacked him brutally, even stabbed him. My mother blames you for this…” I stared at him blankly. He continued: “Moshe was not supposed to go back to that violent woman of his. He told our mother that you convinced him to go back to her. And she attacked him again! Mama holds you responsible,”

Suke! Trouble can really lurk from any angle, even from inadvertent sources. So, this was my “crime” I had heard from Moshe himself that he and his wife seemingly always had vicious fights, but it was not my business. As I recalled, he had said to me last time:”She’s so violent and always makes my life so miserable. My friends say I should leave her, and the (two) children. What do you think?”

In cases like this, if pressed to “advise”, I always invariably preach reconciliation. So I had said: “You married her because you loved her. Go back to your wife and kids and try to work things out,” Now I was in trouble for this.

But one should always endeavour to maintain one’s dignity. I asked Mike in which hospital Moshe was being treated. He told me. So I rather made a beeline to the hospital. To my consternation Moshe was in a very bad condition indeed (though not life-threatening). But he was in bandages, and we were told he would be on crutches for some time

Under the circumstances the gentleman was quite chirpy and philosophical. (I might as well state that he is by nature a suave, highly educated man anyway) He was delighted to see me. “My family told you what happened to me?” he struggled to say.

I tried not to be brutal, or display acerbity; as I said: “I’m sorry about this. Your brother told me, really. Apparently I am responsible for what happened to you, and your Mum is angry with me. I’m sorry anyway…”

Moshe said, a hint of nigh-aphonia in his voice: “Of course you are not to blame my brother. You are not involved. It is an unfortunate situation and mama is or was being emotional. I will sort things out when I am out of this soul-depressing place. i am the one who fell in love with that woman. I am the one who married her. when things were good or better between us I did not cry. So how can you be blamed for advising reconciliation?...”

I sighed. If only he had told his Mother this!